Octo Pie

"Ohhhh!" she said, "I've had enough! No more! I'm not sucking octocock!" Rikki shut her lips tight. The octos were having none of that. The cephalodick hovered inches from the porked Playmate's lips. Tentacles plugged the reluctant blonde's nose until she gasped for breath. "Oh! Da . . .!" she cursed as her mouth was instantly calamaried.

Liquid protein flooded Rikki's orality. The buxom blonde was no stranger to this type of activity, as some former boyfriends would attest. Rikki was surprised to find her tongue curling around the octoshlong. She gulped and swallowed the sexy soup. "Tastes just as I thought," she thought.

The octo pumpers helped the process along. They ground the buxom's boobs against the octodick as it pumped through the cleavage. "(Gulp!) Boobfucked (Gulp!) by octopuses (Gulp!)! Un(Gulp!)ing believable!" Rikki (Gulp!)ered. Her throat worked hard to keep up. Rikki's stomach bloated, rounding her body further.

Eventually, the bloated blonde reached her limit; choking as octojizz bubbled out of her mouth. The Octo Master took the hint and withdrew. Rikki coughed and rumbled a semen scented "burp!" before laying back in numb exhaustion.

The octopi disentangled from Rikki's body; her mind was nearly blank. She offered no resistance as the octopuses moved her limp body to the stone platform. When she was positioned, the octopi returned to the Master. There was a swirl of activity; the octos vanished in a cloud of black ink. The unconscious Rikki didn't notice.

Chapter 4

Rikki was out of it for several days; and it was several more before she could move well enough to examine her body. The new reality confronted her azure eyes, "Oh God! I've been plumped!" Her classically curvy body, curved outward. Her breasts were pale cantaloupes set on a Minnesota beachball.

Rikki couldn't resist the temptation to poke her ponderous paunch. Her silly putty skin dented and smoothed with each 'poink!'. Her touch caused some pain. "My, I'm kind of sensitive there," she thought.

She ran her hands over her belly, from the golden muff to the round breasts, "This actually feels kind of nice." When Rikki reached her melons, she found them sensitive as well. "Mmmm," she purred, "My whole body is tender."

She spent several minutes feeling her curves; growing aroused with each passing second. Rikki's hand traveled around her belly to the heat 'twixt her legs. She felt for the soft pink flesh and plumbed her fingers into the moist flower. The rest had done her cunt a lot of good.

Rikki went full bore, plunging and plumbing, rubbing and squeezing. Her ultrasensitive body burst with fired sex. She ground back and forth, gasping and biting her lower lip, "Mmmm! Nnnng! Unnng!" She gleamed with sweat and sea water; her belly swished and sloshed, her breasts bobbed and wobbled. She was Wet in every cell of her body; fluid from breast to womb. The jellied quaver of her bloated body expressed her climax.

Rikki withdrew her cum soaked hand. She was just coming down when a rumble growled in her belly. "Geez, I'm hungry. God! I'm trapped down here! How am I going to eat?!" As if in answer, there was a splash, and the giant bulb of the Octopus Master appeared.

Rikki gasped and tried to sit up. Her new shape made the task difficult. She managed to prop her body against the cave wall. Rikki sat, legs curled, DD's and belly before her; a primitive Venus figurine, watching the Octo Master float closer. "What could you possibly do to me now?" she asked it.

The octopus responded by unspooling its tentasword and slithering it across the pool. The hectocotylus (the octoshlong's official name) reached the platform and rose into the air, hovering inches from the beautiful blonde's face. It's tip dripped with precum; Rikki's stomach rumbled again.

"Oh!" she gasped, understanding, "Well....there is nothing else." She tentatively brought her hands to the tentapenis and, gingerly, guided it to her mouth. Rikki had to open wide, "It is big and thick. I've never had anything this fat." It slid in almost to the back of her throat. Rikki pulled back, slightly, to keep from choking.

Her mouth burst with salt. She moved her tongue around the pulsing veins, slickening it with saliva, bobbing back and forth, plush lips softly squeezing. Rikki gulped and swallowed until her belly was full. She took the hecto out of her mouth and got a face full of octojizz. The tentadick kept pumping until Rikki was thoroughly drenched.

The shocked Rikki was unable to choose "Ugh! Ewww!" or "Wow!" Past boyfriends had cum on her but not in gallons. The Octo Master left the sticky, creamy, blonde confection. Rikki sat, cum curdling on her body. "I can't stay like this, it's ridiculous."

She crawled to the edge of the platform and slipped into the water. Rikki dipped until the octo-cream rinsed off. As she floated, Rikki asked, "What's going to happen when I, um, give birth?"

The next weeks were set in a pattern. Rikki spent the days rubbing and fingering herself to orgasm. At night the Octopus Master would return to pump her full of octolove. In between, she soaked in the pool. Toilet issues were handled delicately, near a spot that seemed to be a natural flusher.

The other octopi had vanished. "I guess they're done," she thought. Rikki resolved to try for the cave entrance as soon as she gave birth, "Provided it doesn't eat me first; but I am not staying here."

Events, however, took a different turn.

One month after Rikki's disappearance, the moon entered a cycle which brought it to its closest position to Earth in a century. The results were higher tides than normal. Biologists, oceanographers, and other scientists braced themselves with anticipation; high tides meant untold treasures flushed from hidden parts of the ocean. One such treasure caused a major sensation.

Rupert Sinclair, head concierge at the beach front St. Dellacroix Hilton (recently the center of a media blitz after one of its guests disappeared mysteriously), was attending to some daily duties (wiping the beach chairs, a task beneath his position, but the usual staff was on strike) when a strange vision appeared before him.

A young, blonde Aphrodite strode out of the surf. She was nude. "Good pair of knockers," he goggled, "but that is one fat naked blonde." As she came closer, he saw that she was actually heavily pregnant. Even pregnant the lady was a stunner. "Why does she look familiar?" Rupert asked.

The blonde pregnant goddess strode smartly to Rupert. He ignored the bump in his crotch and put on his most professional voice (a struggle, given the vision of fertile beauty before him), "May I help you Madame?"

"Yes," the pregnant young nymph replied, "I need to make a phone call."

The return of Rikki Jorgensen caused a hurricane; within a day her shrieking parents, friends, reporters, gawkers, opportunists, police, and Nancy Grace, flooded the hotel (including many young males, attracted by the rumor that the hot 36DD-somewhat more than 26-36 college girl Playmate had reappeared starkers).

Many were frustrated: other than relatives and police, Rikki refused all visitors nor would she allow photographs.

"She's been through a trauma," said Nancy Grace at her most self-righteous.

"Naaaww, it's a hoax," said the snarkers (most of them disappointed young males).

Few of them took notice of some of the older women of St. Dellacroix, who smiled knowingly and rubbed their bellies. The tabloids had a lot to say about the matter; most weren't believed which is how Rikki preferred it.

One Year Later

Rikki changed her major to Oceanography (with a minor in biology). She became an intern at a special Oceanic Research Center in Miami. Her actual duties were far more intimate.

The parents and police were incredulous at first. She was spirited away to the mainland where a sonogram confirmed the story. The doctors nearly puked with excitement. The parents fainted, both of them. The police got confused looks and sat around scratching their heads.

"How do you charge an octopus with kidnapping and rape?" one asked.

The scientists came and nearly came. "New species! Plants eggs in women!" they babbled with near ultrasonic hysteria. Rikki and her parents had a different opinion.

"Get these things out of me now!"

The doctors and scientists poked and probed, hemed and hawed, and said, "Well, there are certain health and scientific factors and such and such, etc, etc . . . " In other words, no octobortion. Her parents fainted again, "First Playboy, now . . . " Several weeks later, Rikki was in a specially built water tank, grunting and straining, as her pussy popped one octobaby after another.

Today, Rikki was at another water tank, actually an Olympic sized pool, preparing to attend to her actual duty. The session was supposed to be private but Rikki just knew there were hidden cameras.

"They're probably masturbating right now," she thought.

She stripped and lowered her shapely body into the pool, grasped an ample breast, and squirted some milk into the water. The first of her babies came forward, wrapped its tentacles around her breast, lowered its beak to the nipple and began to suck. As she settled back, Rikki noticed someone left a People magazine next to the pool. The cover story was about someone else; she wasn't amused, "Very funny you guys!"

Octomom: The Real Story

The End