ysabetwordsmith: (Schrodinger's Heroes)
[personal profile] ysabetwordsmith
This poem fills a square on my card for the [community profile] kink_bingo fest. This fest encourages people to push the limits of their comfort zone by creating erotica, pr0n, smut, and other sexy stuff in the many flavors of kinky, sensual, and otherwise exotic activities. I'm hoping to attract some new readers for my writing.

The following story belongs to Schrodinger's Heroes, featuring an apocryphal television show supported by an imaginary fandom. It's science fiction about quantum physics and saving the world from alternate dimensions. It features a very mixed cast in terms of ethnicity and sexual orientation. This project developed with input from multiple people, and it's open for everyone to play in. You can read more about the background, the characters, and a bunch of assorted content on the menu page.

Fandoms: Original (Schrodinger's Heroes)
Kink: Fisting/stretching
Medium: Poetry
Summary/Preview: Tim the Tentacle Monster requires some intimate personal care. Ash volunteers to help.
Additional Information: NSFW. Canonical asexual character (Ash). Tim reasonably counts as asexual too; his species does not comprehend human concepts of sex/romance. Genderkin helping each other out. Canonical woman of color (Ash). Tentacles. Alien biology. Massage. Bodily fluids. Friendship. Trust and intimacy.

"By Any Stretch"

Tim the Tentacle Monster slithered
through the common room
a little less gracefully than usual,
his tentacles hitching and crimping in places.

"Is it just me, or is Tim ... limping?"
Ash asked Kay, frowning.
"He's limping," Kay said with a sigh.
"Do you know why?" Ash said.

"There's this thing he needs done,
that he can't do well enough for himself,
and he won't let me do for him," Kay explained.
Ash raised her eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I'm sexual and he's not," Kay said,
"Plus he still doesn't really trust me."
"Well, you did aim a gun at him when you first met,"
Ash pointed out to her.
"I thought he'd killed Alex," Kay said,
"until he put her down and I could see her breathing."

"Morgan and I told you that we thought he was
sentient and moral," Ash said.
"See now, that's why Tim trusts you," Kay said.
"You saw that in him right away."

Ash shrugged. "I'm a programmer, not a soldier,"
she said. "That thing Tim needs done ...
is it something I could do for him?
Do you think he might let me?"
Kay tilted her head. "I don't know," she said.
"We can ask. It might help that you're asexual."

So Kay asked, and Tim agreed.
Kay explained the situation to Ash.
"Tim has a hydrostatic skeleton," she said.
"Over time, some of the fluid inside the coelom congeals.
Then someone needs to work it out.
The process is nonsexual but very intimate,
usually performed by family members or lifelong friends."
Kay described the steps required
and provided a gallon container of lubricant.

So Ash and Tim locked themselves in his room,
hoping that the world would not need saving today.
"Thank you for offering to help me,"
Tim said to Ash.
"Thank you for accepting,"
she replied.

Ash stripped down to a pair of biking shorts,
plain black against the copper of her skin.
It made sense to minimize fabric for a messy job,
and baring that much of her body
might help put her and Tim on a more equal basis.

Kay had warned Ash that the process could take hours.
Ash did not mind. She was accustomed
to spending all day working with her hands,
whether the delicate motion of a keyboard writing code
or the strong swing of an axe cutting firewood.

So Ash started slower than slow,
warming the lube between her palms
and stroking it over the handling tentacles.
They were more muscular and less sensitive
than the smaller tentacles meant for finesse
or the tiny sensory tentilla.

Remain alert, Ash reminded herself.
She did not really know what she was doing,
but she had milked goats and delivered kids
on her family's farm, and some of this sounded similar.
She had to stay attentive to Tim's signals
while caring for his needs.

Ash could feel the tension in Tim's body,
his tentacles hard in her hands,
her fingertips finding little knots
in the muscles under the sleek skin.
She rubbed him tenderly, patiently,
waiting for him to relax in her grasp.

Only when the tentacles began to soften
and his breath went out in a quiet sigh
did Ash begin to move them,
lifting them one at a time to see
whether Tim would let her take the weight.

Once she had that first sign of rapport,
Ash curled her fingers into a fist
around one long flexible shaft.
Tim wrapped the tip around her wrist
to assist her grip.

Ash backed away from Tim,
holding the tentacle straight between them.
Then she squeezed gently and
ran her hand up the length toward his body,
pushing the liquid part of the hydrostatic fluid
and up into the main reservoir.

She waited a moment for the valve
at the end of the coelom to seal itself.
With one fingertip she teased the sphincter
at the end of the tentacle, coaxing it to open.

Then she gripped hard and pulled,
all the way from the base to the tip,
pressing the congealed part of the fluid
toward the end where it spurted out.
It had the consistency and smell
of year-old sunscreen.
Ash carefully mopped it away.

The tentacle hung thin and limp in her grasp.
Ash wrapped her hand around the base
and wiggled it carefully, trying to generate
the right kind of vibration to make the valve relax
so that the coelom could refill.
Eventually the tentacle squirmed in her hand
and she let go of it.

Ash moved on to the next tentacle.
She learned what kind of grip worked best
and how the muscles should feel
when the coelom was properly empty.

Tim gradually became more expressive,
writhing against her and making noises --
gasps and whistles and long stuttering groans.
"I'm having trouble interpreting those sounds,"
Ash said. "Does this hurt or feel good?"
"Yes," Tim said, then, "both."

She added lube by the handful,
slicking it on until it dripped
all over both of them, reminding herself,
Too much is almost enough.

Ash concentrated on stretching the tentacles,
moving from thicker to thinner ones.
She paid careful attention to the elasticity
and discovered that the smaller tentacles
could stretch considerably farther
but required lighter pressure.

She focused on her control, too,
striving to deliver precisely what Tim needed.
It felt strangely fulfilling for him to place himself
so completely in her power,
holding his health in her hands,
his mobility, almost as if
she were removing and replacing
someone's bones.

As she worked, Ash noticed
that the tentacles had different textures:
some perfectly smooth,
some ribbed or nubbled.
Some had suckers underneath
while others did not.

Ash lived so much through her hands,
tough thumbs and sensitive fingertips
manipulating the world around her.
They were her energy and her agency,
her skill and her self,
and Tim was pouring himself
through her with every flex and stretch.

The stimulation of Tim's tentacles
sliding through her clenched fists
was the most exciting sensation
that Ash had felt in a long time.

Tim was so responsive,
twisting in her grip
to tickle against her skin,
his body almost lax with submission.

Now Ash moved on to the next phase
of the bodily manipulation.
She stroked the sensory tentilla very lightly
and followed them back to where
their bases disappeared inside Tim's body.

There was an orifice there,
Kay had assured her
and Tim had confirmed,
although none of them could be certain
that Ash would be able to enter it.
Her hands were bigger than the tentacles
that would ordinarily perform this service.

Ash traced delicately around the edges,
finding the thin springy lips
and sliding her fingertips between them.
She felt the muscles begin to yield
and then abruptly contract.
Tim trembled against her.

Ash waited patiently for Tim to relax again,
stroking the palm of her free hand
over his larger tentacles.
She tried to convey a sense of security,
so that Tim would feel safe with her,
with the expansion of their relationship
into this strange new dimension.

At last the muscles went slack.
Ash pressed inward, gentle yet insistent,
her fingers slipping within the rim.
Her knuckles nudged against the edge,
almost there, almost.
She pushed, withdrew,
pushed again.

Tim moaned,
and she knew his sounds by now,
half pleasure and half pain.
Ash leaned forward,
and just like that
her whole hand went in,
disappearing into Tim's body.

It awed her, a little bit,
that he would trust her --
could trust any human this much --
to allow such an incredible intimacy.
For her it was as much mental as physical,
the insights that his body gave her into his mind.
They were both so breathtakingly beautiful,
like nothing of this Earth,
and yet here, within her reach,
at the present moment surrounding her utterly.

Ash wore Tim like a puppet clasped around her hand,
floating together in a timeless moment.
She moved within him, fingers becoming fist,
twisting carefully in search of the circular motion
recommended by Kay, searching for
the spongy gland that produced the hydrostatic fluid.

It rippled against the outsides of her fingers,
there along the forward surface of her fist.
Ash pushed her hand inward again,
thrusting to stimulate the gland
to replace what had been lost.

She worked the depth and the breadth
of the channel that flexed around her forearm
until she felt the rhythmic clenches
that signaled its activation.

Ash opened her hand,
rolled it as narrow as she could,
and then slowly withdrew.
Tim whimpered above her,
and she touched the edges of the orifice,
smoothing it closed around the tentilla again.

She became aware of two things simultaneously:
one, that Tim had wrapped his tentacles around her,
stroking fondly over her body;
and two, that her body had tied itself in knots
while she worked -- or rather a  knot -- of a sort
that usually proved very difficult for her to undo.

Tim squeezed Ash, gently and politely,
with the thick tentacle making a figure-eight
around and between her legs.
"You feel tense," he observed
in his mellow alien voice.
"Might you allow me to return the favor?
I believe I comprehend the relevant techniques."

Something about Tim's touch reminded Ash
of the rare occasions when she had gone to
an Asian massage parlor and gotten a happy ending --
a touch not erotic, not clinical, but practical and comforting
and promising a purely physical release.

Ash knew, too, knew that she could trust Tim
to be just as careful with her as she had been with him,
to do what needed to be done and nothing more.
So she said, "You can try, but don't take offense
if it doesn't work out exactly as intended."

Tim wrapped himself around her
like a fist closing over her whole body,
supporting her weight so much
that Ash felt as if she were floating.
"Relax," he murmured against her ear,
and she could, and she did.

The tentacle bunched itself over her biking shorts,
squeezing against the creases of her body,
and just like that Ash unwound,
nerves firing and muscles shivering
into blissful release.

Her hands opened and closed on air until
Tim slipped thin, sensitive tentacles across the palms.
He held her with care, soothing her back down
and into herself again, breath slowing,
bodies cooling.

They rested against each other for long minutes
until the stickiness became unpleasant.
Then they peeled themselves apart.

They shared Tim's bathroom,
because it made more sense
to scrub each other clean
than try to do it all alone.

"Why did you offer to help me?"
Tim asked as Ash worked up a lather.
"It needed to be done," Ash said,
"and you weren't comfortable with Kay,
and Morgan is sexual too.
I thought it might be less awkward with me,
and I didn't want to leave another asexual person
in a situation that intimate without a compatible partner."

"What do you think about it now?" Tim asked.
Ash smiled as she rubbed the soapsuds over him.
It was, by any stretch, the best decision
that Ash had made in a while.
"I'm glad," she said. "Ask me again anytime.
I know it's supposed to be something for family --"
"Or for devoted friends," Tim said.
His tentacles stirred against her skin,
spreading the soft white foam over her body,
touching without taking liberties.
"Yes," said Ash, "kinfriends."

She could feel the stretch of it,
somewhere deep in her soul,
friends becoming family.
They might never manage
to send Tim home,
but it was so good
not to be alone.

* * *


1) hydrostatic skeleton -- a support system consisting of muscles wrapped around a fluid-filled cavity.

2) coelom -- a fluid-filled space inside the muscle mass of some animals.

3) tentilla -- small tentacles. Although in English it usually means side branches of tentacles, it's the closest translation of Tim's word for "small tentacles." He has various different kinds.

4) hydrostatic fluid -- a liquid which fills the inner space of muscles to create a hydrostatic skeleton, enabling a creature to move without bones.

5) One thing I did before writing this poem was to compile a list of words, specific actions, and emotional insights particular to fisting -- so that I could transmute the kink into a science fiction context while retaining its core appeal.

(no subject)

Date: 2012-10-20 09:13 pm (UTC)
technoshaman: Tux (Default)
From: [personal profile] technoshaman
My reaction to this was... interesting. Been in Ash's situation many times, but didn't *remember* that until many hours after reading this...

And then I had an out-of-the-blue thought whilst in the shower... I heard a filk song many moons ago about a human and his tentacled partner, called "Proteins"... it seems they were.. incompatible. Human-compatible lubricant might not be so pleasant in an alien's innards? Personally, I'm very glad it worked out OK, but my day job is the paranoid BOFH, I *think* about these things... :)

For the curious: "Proteins" lyrics. It's on iTunes, but I don't go there...

Re: Thoughts

Date: 2012-10-21 05:11 am (UTC)
technoshaman: Tux (Default)
From: [personal profile] technoshaman
Ha! you did think it out! but t'weren't important to the *mood* of the story; don't blame you for leaving it out...

Yep, Jimbo would've definitely done that, and Scotty would've had to technobabble a bit of transporter hi-zootery to extract him... *sigh* Banned from Argo again... :)

And tomorrow I'll have time enough to look at bingo cards... because, more, please? :)

(no subject)

Date: 2012-10-21 01:23 am (UTC)
thnidu: a dandelion plant, the symbol of filk (filk)
From: [personal profile] thnidu
By Blake Hodgetts. I have the CD, "Blindsight". Yeah.

(no subject)

Date: 2012-10-25 12:45 am (UTC)
catsittingstill: (Default)
From: [personal profile] catsittingstill
I enjoyed the song "Proteins" but not in the same way I enjoyed this. The song is a sort of pratfall; it's very differrent from this and that kind of unfortunate outcome would be very jarring in this situation.

The pleasure-pain aspects of the process remind me a lot of a backrub, actually and in some ways I suppose this is the equivalent for an entity like Tim.

(no subject)

Date: 2012-10-25 04:53 am (UTC)
mdlbear: the positively imaginary half of a cubic mandelbrot set (Default)
From: [personal profile] mdlbear
Or a therapeutic massage, rather than a backrub. And more than just the pleasure/pain aspect; that floaty feeling, and the trance-like state of total concentration.


ysabetwordsmith: Cartoon of me in Wordsmith persona (Default)

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