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Pierrot sat up, groggy, confused, mind fogged.
Where was he?
He looked around, his head struggling to clear. It appeared like a forest of some sort, perhaps the thicket in the nearby park? How did he get here…?
He remembers your apartment. Your bed. He had come to you in the after hours, long after his performance, hoping you weren’t asleep just yet… and you weren’t.
You beckoned him, relief on your face. Patting the bedding next to you, were you imploring him to crawl over it to you…? He felt drawn, as if pulled by a thread, the sensation of the glide across your sheets disappearing beneath him, falling out of his mind. Why did you smile so strangely at him? He found himself breathless, as if he had been running.
And now, he was here.
“Pierrot~”
Your voice, stealing his attention, calming his nerves and heating his body. An ethereal lullaby that had him simultaneously pinned to the spot, yet limp and pliant. His concern of his whereabouts was buried, as if tucked in by layers of soft, dark blankets. Muffled. Distant. A buzzing in his skull that was persistent enough to keep him awake, but not enough to make him move.
Is this a dream?
“Good boy, Pierrot.”
He turned, the world blurring and shifting, like mixed paint being smeared by a palette knife. But when his eyes found yours, there was clarity. You were strikingly defined in this bizarro world, a character with much thicker line-art than he felt wrapping around himself.
“My love?” he whispered. It echoed.
You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. Say, I have an important thing to ask you, something I want you to do. Would you–”
“Anything!” his voice was desperate, yet hushed. It scraped like a soft-bristle brush against the normal sounds of the world around him.
You giggled in surprise, a sound that had him melting even as he blushed in spite of himself. His body is on fire. He needs you, he must have you, he–
You leaned into his hand, startling him. When had he reached out to you? You placed your hand over his and rocked gently, humming. A funny tune, something that tugged at his thoughts with an urgency he couldn’t quite grasp or define. He was too lost in your pleased and exquisite expression. You were divine, simply divine.
As you scooted closer, you slid a hand down his chest. The soft shuffle of the silk of his costume and the frantic beating of his heart becoming the swelling orchestra behind your thrumming song. But your hand kept going, and soon other swelling became apparent.
“My… apologies,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I… I’m normally much more… composed.”
You didn’t answer. Instead, without pausing, without hesitation, you lightly drifted your hand across his clothed cock. He gave a sharp inhale, whimpering your name. Did you want this? Did you want him? He thought you were still deciding but–
He moaned openly, unabashedly when you gave a more earnest stroke to his cock. “My– love, if you… if you do that I’ll…” he looked again to you, eyes desperate, tearing up. “I don’t know if I can… control myself, my dear.”
Still, you didn’t answer. He jerked, body vibrating with energy now, when you squeezed his dick playfully, before moving to undo the sash around his waist. He was panting, his cock twitching strongly– dear god, if he came now just from this, how embarrassing– and worst still, his senses were continuing to cloud over.
The sash was off…
No, he can’t let you see him yet, you’ll be terrified, surely?
Tassels and shirt pushed aside, the hidden drawstring plucked out…
But could he actually deny you?
Tug. Tug. Tug. He felt the material of his pants sliding down his ass, then thighs…
A moment of clarity, and he grasped your hand, before anything was truly revealed. That was when you finally looked back into his eyes. His pupils trembled, his body shook, and especially so when he saw how completely unrepentant you were.
“You heard me, yes?” he rasped. “Please, I don’t want to frighten you–”
“You can’t frighten me,” you answered smoothly, smooth as a drop cloth over his brain.
“I-I… I very much… can…” he stammered, voice weak, the effort to speak suddenly enormous.
You attempted to tug your hand from his, but he would not release you.
“Hmm. Didn’t you say you’d do anything for me, my Pierrot~?”
He gasped, panting hard. Yours? He’s yours? Yours, truly? The phrase branded itself into his mind’s eye. My Pierrot. You belong to him. He belongs to you.
He attempted to speak, but all that came out was an affirming groan. He nodded, biting his lip, face completely flushed. He let go of your hand, and grasped your shoulders. Drooling, like a starving dog, he hesitated.
Your hand now free, you moved to release his throbbing member, and even his balls. He shivered harshly to the exposed air, the smell of you, the heat of his body coming off in waves. You strangely had no comment on the very inhuman design of his sex.
“Ah, perfect. This will do nicely.” You smiled at him. “You’re perfect, my Pierrot.”
He shifted, eyes wild, attempting to rise to his knees, to push you over, to claim you. You were all his focus was centered on.
And that was his downfall. Too late he noticed the sudden silence of the world around him, or the prickle of his nape that told of a presence disturbingly close to him.
“No, that’s a problem, love.”
He squeaked and whimpered as he felt himself frozen in a shifting grasp. It almost felt like Harlequin’s tendrils, but softer, less coherent. The… things wrestled him to the ground, on his back again.
“My dear?!” he cried out.
“I’m here, Pierrot,” your voice was soft, soothing. Washing away the fear and alarm in him like a river washes out its banks. You shuffled to his side, giving him a soft smile, and his hand was released. You took it up, nuzzling your cheek against it. “It will be fine, I promise. You will feel so good.”
Whatever the things were moving all over him, they appeared to come from the very ground, holding him down like some terrifying parody of Gulliver’s Travels. But there were no tiny people surrounding him, only you and your gentle expression. You kissed his knuckles and he thrust into the air. He needed you, needed inside you, needed your body wrapped tightly around his cock, why were you doing this instead!?
“Please,” he croaked.
Your eyes lidded, smile stretching and lecherous. “Well, since you begged so nicely~”
If Pierrot thought this meant you were going to release him, he was sorely mistaken.
He cried out as velvety soft movement scuttled around his body, like tentacles, or spiders spreading thread, or even pillowy arms. It did feel good, yet there was the inherent horror of this unknown, unidentifiable movement that reminded too much of being strangled by cloth. He whimpered, and you shushed him sweetly, kissing his knuckles again and humming another hypnotic melody.
Yes… hypnotic… It really was like being hypnotized. He stopped struggling, his focus drawn to you again, and your beautiful starlit eyes. His fingers flexed and spread, cupping your face. He faded into empty-headedness, buzzing with a warm sensation, like a hot springs bath. He stroked your cheek, and you giggled. Pre dripped from his cock, which he noticed the ache of with a sudden intensity. He trailed his fingers down your neck, hardly noticing that the shadows had stopped fluctuating with each needy twitch.
There was a throb. Not from him, but from whatever had its hold on him. Throbbing like the veins of an animal, but deep and thumping like a bass drum. Something slithered between his legs. Instinctively, he tried to kick, but he was still held tightly. The throbbing increased in pace with his struggle.
He gave stuttering gasps as the slithering of one thing became the slithering of many, as if peeling itself apart like string cheese, and began to explore his cock.
“My love?” he begged, fear staining his voice. You stroked his hair encouragingly, your touch electrifying and life-giving. He inhaled deep, and your arousing scent flooded him. Both calming and exciting him, was this the smell of your want?
“Spread my love for you,” you whispered cryptically.
Pierrot nodded numbly, but didn’t have long to ponder the thought. A choked sound wrested itself from his throat as he felt something piercing his sex. A brief wave of sensory nightmare washed over him, before the world was suddenly lit. Once more a blur of shifting colours filled his vision, but his eyes rolled as pleasure shot through his nerves. His voice filled the air as he arched, an undulating force pressing on all sides of his cock.
He bucked. He bucked again. He can move now! He thrust upward into the sensation bearing down on him, claws digging into the ground below to stabilize him. He wasn’t sure what he was fucking, but somehow he just knew it was you. In some way, in some form, he was fucking you, and it made him sing triumphant.
His tongue escaped him, so much was he vocalizing in his ecstasy that it was natural. He felt your fingers on the appendage, and made it dance alive. Licking your hand greedily, and then something more. His eyes rolled and he saw you leaning over him, placing kisses on his tongue. He shot up, making you yelp in surprise, but all he wanted was to grab you and thrust his tongue down your throat. You laughed around him, somehow.
What even were you?
You giggled seductively with each pitiful whine and moan falling from his lips. He bit your tongue and cheeks, tasted your blood, but you remained unblemished. Maybe this was a dream? After all, he’s pretty sure one of you has been turned in an impossible angle.
But then again, it’s hard to tell when his eyes could only see you clearly.
“I love you, I love you more than life itself, I want nothing but you for the rest of my life, I will never feel hunger again, I will never feel sorrow again, I need you and only you, no circus, no humans, no monsters, no candy, meat, or coffee, just you, only you, forever and ever, I need you, I crave you, your touch it’s– ahn~! Oh, my dear, my love, my light, my heart– nngh– Você é tão linda, você é minha lua e minhas estrelas, h-hhhaaa~”
Pierrot’s lack of movement seemingly stirred the shadowy threads into action, as they massaged and pressed deeper beneath his skin. No longer frightening, or painful, instead filling him with rapture that made him squirm.
He let you go, bracing himself on his hands as he gasped. His breathing was rapid and shallow, heart pounding so hard it may well break out of his ribs, and he watched with widened eyes at what was happening to him. His cock was twitching uncontrollably now, practically gushing precum, knot swelling almost painfully large. His balls squeezed, pressing the strange wormlike tendrils tight against his skin. Black, jagged, writhing lines were buried deep inside him, sending a bolt of panic through him.
That is, until your hand delicately touched him.
He tossed his head back. He could so clearly feel himself riding the edge of climax just from your soft hold. “Don’t be afraid, Pierrot. I promise, you will not be harmed, you are not being harmed.”
“Wha-what’s–?” he wheezed, tears streaming down his face now.
“I told you, I want you to spread my love for you.”
He pulled his chin back to his chest, daring to look again. One large, blobbish, snake-like thing danced above his cock, pressed against it. From it, it seemed the other, smaller, vein-like things spread, like a ribbon worm’s proboscis. He cringed, conflicted. No, you weren’t hurting him, and this felt amazing, but the sight was… haunting.
“Don’t look if it scares you.”
He closed his eyes. It was too little, too late, but if he pushed it out of his mind then…
“What… do-do I…?”
“Just relax.”
Easier said than done, at this point, considering immediately a thrill ran through him, like going down a hill far too fast. Something was invading his cock, pushing itself down inside him. He roared out, sobbing. It was intense, it was a lot, it was pulsing through the air around him. He felt his cock expand to accommodate the intrusion.
You kissed his cheek.
“Oh, Pierrot, is it… actually hurting…?”
“No!” he howled. “No, dear god, it’s– it’s– so much, I… I can’t…! Please, my love!”
“Are you going to cum?”
In an almost comedic fashion, his chest expanded and the universe shattered, fireworks and dynamite in his skull as orgasm hit him hard… and didn’t stop. The creature went deeper, impossibly deeper, spreading fire and frenzy in its wake. He tried to thrash, but he was held in place again, hands and tentacles and netting holding him fast to his seat on the forest floor.
He was screaming, his voice raking painfully in his throat. If he had senses left, he’d note how strange it was he was not heard, that nobody had stumbled on them yet.
Tunnel vision, his body lurched, his abdomen clenched. He felt his seed all over him, soaking him, why wasn’t it stopping!?
“PLEASE!” he begged, blinded. “I CAN’T– NO MORE! PLEASE!”
“Pierrot,” your voice was near him, you nuzzled into his cheek. “Pierrot, just a little longer, just a bit–”
You hadn’t finished speaking when everything came crashing down. He felt something insert itself into his body, curl and spread rapidly, before a thrusting sensation was felt in his balls. He choked, horrified, scared, but he could not move. He swooned, coughing on his own spittle, maybe even his own semen, since he was covered in it. You caught him, unbothered by the mess, and he was limp in your arms.
He still couldn’t see through the tears in his eyes. He panted heavily, tongue lolling out like a dead snake. Leaning into your chest, he let your heartbeat surround him, comfort him.
“You’re doing so well for me, Pierrot. We’re almost done.”
He let out a broken sob.
“Oh, no, no no don’t cry. You can rest a bit longer.” You stroked his back, sighing into his hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it’d be so intense for you. I should have been more careful, more considerate… You’re a virgin, of course it’d be intense…” you muttered, frustrated.
His heart warmed. The pleasant softness was settling on him again.
“A-are we…? You… know…” he rasped, struggling with saying it out loud, despite everything.
You just chuckled, seductively, dominatingly. He shivered, whining and pushing against you. He suddenly became aware that he was hardening quickly, even with that… thing still buried inside him. Filling him. His… ugh, his scrotum, so tight–
You pulled away from him, making him give a petulant whine.
“Look at me,” you commanded.
He listened, eyes widening as he realized you were nude. Fully, unlike him. His eyes raked over your body, rapidly taking you in, every breathtaking detail. He lusted. His body burned as he eagerly bent forward again, his smile large and stupid. He lapped at your body with his aureate tongue, planting kisses and squeezing at flesh.
You were soft, like the shadows he was ensnared in. So unbelievably soft, warm, and comfortable. At some points in his lavishing, he swore he even merged into you, like sinking into velvet. You giggled, ticklish it seemed, enjoying his attention greatly.
Even as he winced and whimpered from the expanding force in his sex.
But nothing else mattered besides you. Even if he was being eaten alive, he’d find the strength and spirit to mark you, and die with only satisfaction in his mind.
Perhaps that was why he was becoming painfully hard again. The pleasures the tendrils were working into his flesh were nothing compared to your squealing delight and how you tried to hug him still in vain. He couldn’t help the rumbling laugh in his chest either.
Eventually, however, he hissed as he felt your hand land on his cock once more. Staring into his eyes, gaze hooded and smile lascivious, you stroked him. Soft and slow at first, but speeding up your pace steadily. He pulled you in with his own hands, and thrust his tongue into your mouth. Your warm, welcoming mouth, almost as warm and welcoming as your eyes. They sparkled like dew… or perhaps that was just the tears from his own eyes causing the illusion. He moaned wantonly, feeling slick once again leaking like a faucet from his tip.
“You need to cum for me, Pierrot.”
And so he did. His eyelids fluttered, eyes almost crossing as he expended his energy through his cock, around the new inhabitant of it, which… seemed to expend something else into him, warm like contrast material for a medical scan.
He was weakening, so very tired now, leaning heavily on you.
“You might not want to watch this part,” you said, one hand still holding him against you. He cracked open an eye. The strange appendage shoved into his cock had gone almost translucent, purple-ish in its stretch as something moved through it. His mouth fell open as whatever it was pushed down through his cock. Soon, he felt the sensation into his testicles, which made him groan.
He was being filled. His own essence being replaced with… something else. The smaller threads feeding his veins with something that made the exchange easier, that made it feel so insanely good, that acclimated him to whatever this substance was; dulled his body’s natural response to expel it.
What the hell were you? What were you doing?
What had you said? Spread your love for him…?
“When you meet those that catch your eye, take them, and sow me into them.”
Sow…
Seeds…?
He blinked in understanding as sleep tugged at him. You were using him to spread… whatever you were. He felt his heart sink. Had this been your goal all along? Did you even… could you even…
You hugged him tighter. “Why are you crying, my love?”
His heart wrenched in anguish. How could you call him that?
“Please, Pierrot, don’t cry…” you whispered, voice trembling. “I… I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be with you. I promise.”
You were guessing what his heart was breaking for, he could tell.
“Did you not have fun?”
No, it’s not that. Although, a major part of what he enjoyed was now wrested from his grasp.
“Does it hurt?”
No, it’s not that. The weight he was now feeling wasn’t centered on the new size of his scrotum.
“...Are you mad at me…?”
How could your voice be so small? You’ve betrayed him, only used him.
“Why me?”
You made a confused sound. “What do you mean?”
“It could have been… anyone…”
A beat passed, before you held him tighter. “That’s wrong. I wanted it to be you. I needed it to be you. That day you followed me to the coffee shop, I knew it was going to be you. Which… I know sounds weird, but intuition just… told me so.”
You kissed him between his eyes.
“But you understand that, don’t you. Yeah… Pierrot, I think… you also knew, huh?”
Sounds, sights, sensation, blurred together like the slurry of water one dips their paint brushes into.
It seemed like, with a simple blink, Pierrot was walking into the circus again. He was holding a bouquet, a variety of native wildflowers clearly hand-picked. Curious, he took a deep inhale of the petals, and it reminded him of you, and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face.
He would have to ask the Doctor if he could borrow a planter for you.