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Steve woke from his doze when the hollow tentacle that housed his cock began to pulse with soft, rhythmic contractions. All remnants of sleep vanished when one of the tentacles in his ass began to run its cilia over his engorged prostate, and his cock went from half hard to fully interested in two seconds flat, pulling a moan deep from his chest.
An answering moan from his right had Steve turning his head towards Bucky. Reaching out, Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky’s metal fingers which squeezed back tightly, desperately. Like always, Bucky refused to look at him, to look at anything really, his eyes clenched tightly shut, tears leaking from their corners as though not seeing the reality of the horror they lived in would make it less real.
A high pitched whine of pleasured pain escaped Bucky, and at the same time Steve saw stars as a tentacle that had once been far too thick, slid far too easily down the length of his rigid cock. It was his turn to whine when it slipped through his prostate into his scrotum, swelling his already enlarged sac even bigger.
The sound was cut off when a feeding tentacle was shoved between his lips, and Steve couldn’t help but curl his nose in disgust at the taste and texture of the fluid it released, far too sweet and coating his tongue like lard, before it slipped too deep for him to taste, forcing him to tilt his head back to straighten his throat and breathe shallowly through his nose as he’d learned to do so he wouldn't choke.
The tentacles in Steve’s ass slid deeper, impossibly so, and he couldn’t help but wonder how it hadn’t met the tentacle shoved down his throat yet. The tentacles knew Steve's body more intimately than any other, exploring places and reaching depths that he wouldn't have ever thought possible. Steve tried to whine around the tentacle, teeth digging uselessly into the unforgiving flesh of it, as his stomach cramped painfully. Steve let his hand rise to the huge swell of it, rubbing at it as though that would somehow alleviate the pain of the tentacles gently rearranging and rotating the eggs that filled his insides.
Slim, hollow tentacles closed over Steve’s puffy nipples and Steve’s back tried to arched at the sudden tugging. He choked on the tentacle down his throat as they sucked up the fluid that leaked from his chest.
Bucky’s fingers went impossibly tight around Steve’s, and he glanced at Bucky out of the corner of his eye as best as he could, his heart clenching painful in his chest as he watched Bucky try to struggle and fight, choking on the tentacle down his throat instead of accepting it.
Steve felt bones begin to give, but didn’t try to pull away, letting Bucky take what little comfort he could give. Steve would heal; he always did. He wished he could speak, that he could lie to Bucky. This nightmare will all be over soon, rescue is coming. But no, Steve knew he couldn't do that to Bucky, couldn't give him false hope, couldn't force the words out during the few precious moments that the creature left them alone and they could talk. It usually didn't mind if they talked to it, but it didn't like when they tried to speak to each other. Its will was absolute.
Steve had no way of knowing for sure, but he was fairly certain that the creature was rougher with Bucky than with him, that it didn’t like that Bucky still fought it, while Steve had given in.
When Bucky’s fingers finally relaxed, his arm falling limp, Steve couldn’t help but be relieved that Bucky had fallen unconscious, free from the horror for a time. But a part of Steve pitied him.
Stupid, stubborn punk, Steve wanted to call him. Don't fight it. Just relax, and it's not so bad, he wanted to tell him. Just give in, don't think. Let it all slip away. It's easier to not dream of before.
Pulling his swollen hand up, Steve rested it on his belly, shivering at the movement he felt beneath his stretched skin. A tentacle rose up and caressed it lightly as though apologetic. His stomach was so big now, bigger than any clutch he’d ever carried before, and Bucky’s was even more so, his stomach bulging so much that it made him look small in comparison. While once the sight would have horrified him, now he only felt sadness and pride. Sadness for Bucky's needless struggles, and pride that they were doing so well, that they were so clearly useful.
It was nearly impossible to tell time here, but from past experience given how active the tentacles were being, Steve was certain that they would be ready to lay them any time now, an event Steve looked upon both with anticipation and trepidation. The pain and pleasure melded into a sensation that stole his mind, that he couldn't even begin to describe. He both craved and feared it, missing it when it was gone.
This wasn’t his body anymore, Steve knew. The creature owned him, and they existed only to serve it. He wished for Bucky’s sake that he could realize that too.
There had been no rescue during their first pregnancy, nor their second or third, no rescue on their ninth, or twelfth or twentieth.
Steve had no idea where HYDRA had found this creature, or how they knew it wouldn’t kill them. Though looking back, Steve realized maybe that had been the plan. The room had been full of bones. But something had made Steve and Bucky special. Maybe it was the serum. Maybe they were special in some other unknown way. It didn’t really matter though. Because somehow they were perfect. The perfect breeders, the perfect incubators.
Steve had lost count somewhere after the fiftieth clutch, realizing that his was his life now. Hope no longer existed. Steve wished Bucky would finally accept that. All that existed was pleasure and pain at the will of the creature.
HYDRA had well and truly won.