consentacle fun, etc.
The following prompts can be BYOM (bring your own monster) if you so desire! Anything goes. Literally anything.
"Monsters" are common around here. They always have been. While many societies choose to revere them as gods or use them to instill fear into ill-behaved children, the monsters of New Cloudbank are one with the people and have been able to hold jobs, own property and self, and vote; freedoms gained from a civil movement some decades ago. While societal integration has gone somewhat smoothly, there is some resistance held by conservative individuals that look down on monster-human relations and hold the untrue belief that some of the less humanshape monsters are a threat to people.
Boxer is an example of one such creature. His upper body is proportionally larger than any human; that if he stood on human legs he would easily reach thirteen feet tall, cut like someone who exercises on a needlessly regular schedule. However, he does not stand on human legs at all, but rather a numerous set of tentacles, rich cocoa-brown like the rest of his skin, decorated with stark yellow stripes at their base and a line of dots along their topsides, lined with dark golden suction cups on the opposite side, and delicate membranes between them. His yellow accents, including his eyes, glow under dark enough conditions to see them.
He's never harmed a human in his life, much rather the opposite if anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a reputation for it...
Errands.
A monster's gotta eat.
Of course, he doesn't have to drop by for meat, as the only thing he puts on his table are things he caught with his own hands swimming in the depths outside of the bay. But frying fish in its own juices does not a meal plan make, so regular supermarket trips are the solution to well-rounded meals.
But he can't quite get around like everyone else, on account of boneless tentacles being designed more for underwater agility than, well, walking. So he has to opt for a wheelchair, one custom-built to accommodate his bulk and allows him to comfortably use his extra appendages for his wheel-based mobility while keeping his hands free.
Although being just shy of wheelchair-bound on land, he's at less disadvantage than one might think, using his long tentacles to snatch things off of the topmost shelf with length to spare. Otherwise, he tries to keep them hidden under a soft, knitted blanket, for the comfort of strangers, who tend to stare anyway. (Oh well.) He likes to joke that it's not his form, but the fact that he chooses to dress somewhat formally even for his mundane outings, even though he knows that's not the case.
Maybe you're the one struggling to reach that favorite item of yours so conveniently stashed just beyond finger's grasp on the top shelf.
"Here. I'll get that for you," he says, with an easy smile.
Bet you weren't prepared for a tentacle to hand you something when you went out today.
Shore.
This quiet little section of the beach is usually deserted, rumored to be the place where feral monsters hunt for humans. Now this, this is a rumor that is entirely Boxer's fault, purposely spread to his few visitors so he could have this little piece of heaven all to himself.
Maybe you're a regular here. Maybe you're a brave new first-time visitor, hopefully to catch sight of the man-eating monster for yourself. Either way, the sight is hardly as intimidating as the legend: he's sprawled out naked on the warm sand, basking in the sunlight that beats against his bare, chiseled back as he naps.
Scary.
Water.
New Cloudbank is a large city-state with bustling seaside commerce, full of fishery companies, international trade, and tourism. A water-dweller like Boxer is almost never without work, since many companies are chomping at the bit to commission an strong, amphibious monster to survey the deep for the next best catch, keeping the water safe, or mounting rescues for wayward tourists.
He loves what he does for a living.
Maybe you, too, are of similar business, using your nonhuman physiology to your advantage in the outer bay waters, catching Boxer in the middle of what he does best. Or maybe you're simply a patron of these companies--for Boxer, as brazen as he is to get a free drink, will gladly suction-cup climb his way into boats and schmooze with locals and tourists alike.
Wildcard!

"Monsters" are common around here. They always have been. While many societies choose to revere them as gods or use them to instill fear into ill-behaved children, the monsters of New Cloudbank are one with the people and have been able to hold jobs, own property and self, and vote; freedoms gained from a civil movement some decades ago. While societal integration has gone somewhat smoothly, there is some resistance held by conservative individuals that look down on monster-human relations and hold the untrue belief that some of the less humanshape monsters are a threat to people.
Boxer is an example of one such creature. His upper body is proportionally larger than any human; that if he stood on human legs he would easily reach thirteen feet tall, cut like someone who exercises on a needlessly regular schedule. However, he does not stand on human legs at all, but rather a numerous set of tentacles, rich cocoa-brown like the rest of his skin, decorated with stark yellow stripes at their base and a line of dots along their topsides, lined with dark golden suction cups on the opposite side, and delicate membranes between them. His yellow accents, including his eyes, glow under dark enough conditions to see them.
He's never harmed a human in his life, much rather the opposite if anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a reputation for it...
Errands.
A monster's gotta eat.
Of course, he doesn't have to drop by for meat, as the only thing he puts on his table are things he caught with his own hands swimming in the depths outside of the bay. But frying fish in its own juices does not a meal plan make, so regular supermarket trips are the solution to well-rounded meals.
But he can't quite get around like everyone else, on account of boneless tentacles being designed more for underwater agility than, well, walking. So he has to opt for a wheelchair, one custom-built to accommodate his bulk and allows him to comfortably use his extra appendages for his wheel-based mobility while keeping his hands free.
Although being just shy of wheelchair-bound on land, he's at less disadvantage than one might think, using his long tentacles to snatch things off of the topmost shelf with length to spare. Otherwise, he tries to keep them hidden under a soft, knitted blanket, for the comfort of strangers, who tend to stare anyway. (Oh well.) He likes to joke that it's not his form, but the fact that he chooses to dress somewhat formally even for his mundane outings, even though he knows that's not the case.
Maybe you're the one struggling to reach that favorite item of yours so conveniently stashed just beyond finger's grasp on the top shelf.
"Here. I'll get that for you," he says, with an easy smile.
Bet you weren't prepared for a tentacle to hand you something when you went out today.
Shore.
This quiet little section of the beach is usually deserted, rumored to be the place where feral monsters hunt for humans. Now this, this is a rumor that is entirely Boxer's fault, purposely spread to his few visitors so he could have this little piece of heaven all to himself.
Maybe you're a regular here. Maybe you're a brave new first-time visitor, hopefully to catch sight of the man-eating monster for yourself. Either way, the sight is hardly as intimidating as the legend: he's sprawled out naked on the warm sand, basking in the sunlight that beats against his bare, chiseled back as he naps.
Scary.
Water.
New Cloudbank is a large city-state with bustling seaside commerce, full of fishery companies, international trade, and tourism. A water-dweller like Boxer is almost never without work, since many companies are chomping at the bit to commission an strong, amphibious monster to survey the deep for the next best catch, keeping the water safe, or mounting rescues for wayward tourists.
He loves what he does for a living.
Maybe you, too, are of similar business, using your nonhuman physiology to your advantage in the outer bay waters, catching Boxer in the middle of what he does best. Or maybe you're simply a patron of these companies--for Boxer, as brazen as he is to get a free drink, will gladly suction-cup climb his way into boats and schmooze with locals and tourists alike.
Wildcard!

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What the fuck. [Wait.]
Is that our food?!
[She might commit murder tonight, because the benefit of being so wrapped up in Boxer was that she didn't have to face how obnoxiously turned on she was. There's a horrid ache between her legs and a desire to be touched and fucked herself, and it translates into aggression far too easily.] Holy shit. [When she runs her fingers through her hair, her whole arm is shaking.
Okay, just - deep breathes. She can totally calm herself down! And not look like she was just in the middle of some perfectly intense messing around!]
Hold on a second! [For all the trouble the foods caused it's not leaving just because one of them forgot to say something, so that delivery person is going to live with being shouted at.] Seems like you have to let me go, handsome.
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And oh shit x2 when he realizes he has to pry Noriko from out of his grip. He rolls forward a little, trying to put some space between the two of them so he can remove his suction cups, one at a time, so that he won't hurt her. There are red circles left behind on her skin, but hopefully they won't linger for long. After she's been removed from his cups, he lets go of the rest of his tentacles, and he has to pull his gold tentacle all the way out of himself (with a little moan when he does so) in order to unfold it from around her hips.
He doesn't want to get up, though, because if he does, he's going to make the mess he made even worse. Instead, he chooses to hide his face in his pillow in hopes that it might obscure the bright redness on his face.]
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I'll be right back. [Wow she feels really bad about this, even though the shitty timing isn't exactly her fault.
Still, once she's found her towel again Nariko wraps it around herself before she answers the door. She gets the bags, signs whatever is needed, gives the kid a nice enough tip and then promptly shuts the door. Usually she might be a little more polite but, frankly, that curious stare gets boring after, like, three seconds.]
Hey.
[His couch is really damn big so she kind of has to climb a little to look over the back of it at him.]
That was a little awkward.
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Hi.
[He sits up a little bit to look at her better.]
What...what are we gonna do now?
[He's never had to suffer blue balls before, and he's not really interested in finding out what it's like. But if they wait too long...the food will get cold.]
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Still want to have sex?
[Because she certainly does, it's not right to leave the guy hanging like that unless it's completely unavoidable. But considering that no one died it all hinges on how willing Boxer is! There's pretty much nothing to keep her from getting right back to it.]
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Well. She's carrying damning evidence of it all.]
Yeah. Uh...
[He gestures vaguely to the kitchen.]
Would you mind putting it all in the oven? [Is there space for it in there?] Put it on low and hope for the best.
[Neither of them deserve to eat cold ribs after all of this.]
And maybe bring back a few paper towels...
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What's wrong?
[One little section gets ripped away to dab at her midsection, but otherwise she offers the other half to his. His couch is going to need a little cleaning, will wiping it up do the job?]
I mean, it was a little surprising, being interrupted like that ... [But it was something else. She'd ignored her instincts with him earlier, she wouldn't do it twice.]
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The red returns to his face when she brings attention to her own mess, but instead of wasting time trying to hide his shame, he goes ahead and tries to clean up as much of his mess as possible.]
After warning you about how badly it stains, I go and douse you with it...and I put you in harm's way, latching on with those suckers...
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You warned me about it, and I'm the one that accepted it as a possibility. What else could you expect from yourself? No one can control their instincts twenty-four seven, Boxer.
[Her non-inked fingers card through his hair.]
So I've got some extra colors here and there, but I'm perfectly safe.
[So it's okay. Sure, there's a row of perfect little rings along her hips, but she has faith that it'll all fade - or at least be easily covered - by the time she has to go to work. Obviously it'd better to not be splattered on every single time, but she doesn't have to tell him that, he's already beating himself up one lane and then zigzagging down the other with it.]
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[Having her fingers in his hair feels nice. Really nice. Not many people take the opportunity.]
But it was a doorbell, Nariko.
[A doorbell made him ink! Which...honestly, probably just attests to how excited his general state was at the time. Still kinda is.
Still kinda letting out precum like a hose.]
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And I've fallen out of my bed while masturbating because my phone rang!
[Which, at the time, had felt kind of - maybe 'sad' is the word, but now she can grin about it.]
You're fine, handsome. [She leans in to kiss his cheek.] If that's the worst you ever do you'll be the gentlest person I've ever met in my life.
[Gentle with her, anyway.]
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Unexpected words from a woman who took almost all of my tentacles inside of her at once.
[He grins and chases that kiss down to give her one of his own, finishing off wiping off the excess...everything.]
So how do you want to pick back up?
[Something new, or resume what they were at before?]
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[Hell, even then he was much more careful and gentle with her than some of her other partners! Not Christian, because that idiot treated her like she was hand spun glass, but that didn't count anyway. She lets him get that kiss in and certainly returns it.]
I mean, I was looking forward to seeing you come.
[So she's sort of going for the latter, it's almost like an incomplete image and she wants to finish it up.]
Besides, I like your close contact hugs. [That's what she's calling it, man.]
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[He shifts back into position on his belly. Instead of holding two tentacles out of the way, he fans all of them out--there's that sense of exposure again, plus the sensation of cold air against his inked skin--but it really is a brilliant display, what with the entire length of his golden tentacle lazily draped all along the couch surface, sitting in a pool of its own precum.
Boxer lets out a small laugh.]
Is that what you're calling it, now?
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Yep! I mean, I'm not gonna lie, I always worried it might feel weird but it's nice! Like a dozen 'hey, you're nice's all at once!
[She has to work herself through that network of limbs, but something occurs to her as she joins him on the couch again. Despite the temptation she ignores his cock, and instead leans forward to spread her hands out on his back. Sure, they could get right back to it but how could a little detour hurt? She braces her knees into the couch as she massages along his back, a little carefully but she puts a good amount of strength in her hands - she knows what she's doing.]
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[Seriously, man! Those things can kill people! And she's sitting there like "ooh, it's like a thousand tiny hugs!" Nariko, you're just begging to be teased with a mentality like that.]
A-ah...
[He was not expecting a massage! Though Boxer has more than enough muscle, he's a far cry from a bodybuilder, so there's a nice layer of fat that makes his skin warm and soft...and there's plenty to address, because it feels like he holds his stress in his lower back.
His tentacles slowly descend from where they're being held, as if he was trying to keep them held up but is slowly losing the strength to do it with the relief that she's giving him. They form a relaxed blanket all around her and her front.]
Mm...
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You know, I get the feeling that you relax about as often as I do.
[Her hands go up, and then come back down in a known rhythm, when she catches the tension in his back she focuses there, actively working out the kinks in one moment only to lighten up on him, shift to his sides and a little lower, and then she goes back to it again. If nothing else he's relaxing the way she had been aiming for, and those responses are appreciated, too.]
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[Yep. That's his excuse.
He's totally limp for her, content to let her address his problem areas to the best of her abilities. Motionless, eyes closed, just the steady heave of his chest as he breathes, stubborn muscles fighting against her to retain their tautness until finally submitting to her fingers.]
You really do know how to massage...
[He's run into plenty of people who said they could, only to have rough hands and jabbing fingers. Forceful rubbing does not a massage make. There's a science to it, damn it.
But there's one piece of him that seems to have a mind of its own, and you can probably guess which. It slithers along her leg, up her calf, a half-hearted attempt to ease some of the pressure. She'd better make it behave before it finds something to bury itself in.]
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[That last part is just for humors sake.] It seems like you could stand to have regular massages, and I'm pretty sure we can schedule something.
[There's something nice about being able to touch people, knowing that it could be entirely affectionate or lustful depending on the situation. She's a tactile person at heart, so anything that lets her give is weirdly relaxing on her end. When the gold buddy decides to start slinking around she looks down before shifting to just one hand.
It's a little less effective but she just needs a moment to get a hold of his wandering cock. The only pressure it needs to relieve is Boxer's so she helps the tip find its way back to his opening.]
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You made out with your girlfriends?
[Oh, God, as soon as he leaves his mouth, he wants to slap himself. How one-track minded. How stereotypical. How sexist. How...eughugh. Disgruntled, he faces forward again.]
Don't...answer that.
[Unless she actually wants to.]
Sounds great, but...how am I meant to repay the favor?
[Ah, and there--there it is. Guided back into his entrance, he doesn't waste any time into slowly slither in deeper and deeper, inches disappearing underneath Noriko by the passing seconds.]
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What, you don't want to hear any bad sex stories?
[Most guys are like that, so she's not quite understanding that he's beating himself up about it. Both hands go back to his skin, though, continuing to work out the few remaining knots while he essentially fucks himself.
And as far as returning the favor? Well, there's a number of possibilities but that's not the point here! He doesn't have to worry about 'repaying'. Sometimes people just do lovely things for each other, and that can be the thing she gives him.]
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[The rabbit hole keeps getting deeper, and he keeps falling in. Hopefully he's not digging one of his own in the process.]
Mmh...Narikoooo...
[Just because it's his own dick and he can feel its entirety, that doesn't mean his head isn't preoccupying itself with the mental image of Nariko fucking him with her own big dick.]
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Embarrassing, at least. [She just hasn't told him the bad nor embarrassing parts! Context is everything, after all. But while his imagination turns its wheels Nariko gets a hold of his hips - or the approximation of them - and pulls him back a little, mostly to help with the general idea, here.]
I mean, I wasn't always full of this endearing confidence! The very first time I bent Serenity over we didn't know what we were doing, it was very clumsy, very ... well, we were eighteen, then, so ... 'Girlish', is a word for it.
[Exactly how much of this is he going to eat up?]
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Oh, God...
[His mental image goes from her fucking him to fucking some nondescript woman who has a similar figure to Nariko's, except with strawberry blonde hair and bright red lipstick. Sloppy, groping handwork and embarrassed giggling. A relieved sigh when just the right thing happens. His back arches upward into her hand while he works the now very girthy thickness of his dick inside himself.
He's eating it all up and asking for seconds.]
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While he's unintentionally off base there, he's got the hair color right! Serenity was in fact blonde with irritatingly perfect, gently pale skin, all soft curves and demure expressions. It's not even vaguely surprising that he's into it, and maybe it should bother her to twist the truth like this but what counts for her is that she's helping him get there somehow.
Besides, she'll tell him the truth eventually! Just not right this second.] There's really something to be said for wanting it, though. She was so cute and nervous, but the second I could make her moan it was like I could believe in Heaven. So I fucked her as hard as I could, hardly graceful, just needy and delirious, shaking all over, so wet that I made a mess of my thighs and the sheets.
[Her voice has dropped to some low purr.] But you know what that's like, don't you? When you can make a girl buck and moan, the way they can just fall apart for you, unable to do anything but beg for more. [She's massaging again, slow and steady.] And all you want to do is keep giving until there's nothing left in you.
[She bends down to kiss at his skin.] That's what I did, until she couldn't even say my name anymore, her voice was so hoarse.
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The end of chapter 1??