Volume 2: Club Soda
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The Chromium Shaft Club maintains, for the exclusive use of its members and their guests, a huge assortment of sex toys of all kinds. One well-known variety are known as tentacle machines, and the most popular of these is called the Octopus as it has, as you might expect, eight appendages. The Octopus is a marvel of modern engineering, with an incredible degree of variability and flexibility. For example, both the color and the texture of the tentacles varies depending on the desires of the user: shiny cold metal for the real machine sex effect, warm black leather for those who like their fetishes retro, mottled green-and-brown snakeskin, or even a combo of ribbed purple and red nubbles for that genuine alien sex effect. During my perambulations, I noticed a small group of guests standing around, inspecting the dull-grey and inert machine nestling on the low ceiling in the large alcove which is its usual resting place. The party appeared nervous and unsettled. It is a key part of my job to make sure that members and their guests are comfortable, relaxed and, eventually, very satisfied by their experiences. "Can I help?" I asked brightly, in the perky up-for-anything way that the management likes so much, while watching the group carefully in order to judge their reactions. "Err," one man began, "We're not sure exactly how this thing works." "This is the Octopus, isn't it?" one of his female companions interjected. "Well, it is indeed the Octopus," I confirmed, adding, "One of our more popular attractions. Perhaps I can demonstrate the machine for you?" Several of the gathering looked at each other, faces becoming alight with intrigued interest and more than a little lust. The man who had spoken earlier, a short man of obviously oriental origins and impressive pectoral muscles who clearly had elected himself spokesperson for the group, answered me. "You know, I think that would be really great." I grinned widely in response, then stripped off the sleeveless jacket and short skirt that served to identify staff members, and tossed them casually into a corner. Now quite naked, I stood on the low dais positioned directly beneath the machine which, sensing me beneath it, awoke suddenly with a coordinated and frankly sensuous movement of all eight tentacles. There was a gasp from at least one of my audience, and several of the group stepped back instinctively. The unfolding tentacles stretched down toward me, their surfaces mottling and darkening as the automation inferred my preferences, based on its internal model of generalized human pleasures and direct observation of my previous experiences. I had demonstrated this machine on several previous occasions, and so it knew that I would soon be ready for its most intimate attentions. As the tentacles began to run themselves over my body, I kept up a running commentary for the guests, at least as long as I could. "So, ladies and gentlemen," I began, "Our Octopus is the latest model, perfectly capable of fucking eight people at a time, or concentrating on just one. At about this point, the tentacles darted down and picked me up. Two each curved around my thighs and and my upper arms, holding me in a near-vertical spread-eagle position; a fifth looped twice around my waist, ending up with the tip of the tentacle nestling between my boobs. "For the ladies," I continued, "Our tame toy will - if you so require - restrain you and enter you, stretch you, fuck you, everywhere you desire." The remaining tentacles converged on me, moving snake-like over my skin and glistening moistly with secretions from glands located close to each tip. Moving together, two appendages insinuated their way into my lower cunt and anus, making me gasp suddenly - a reaction echoed from at least one member of the audience. The member between my breasts elongated, thrusting its own wet phallus into the cunt between my breasts. "As you can see," I continued, "The Octopus's tentacles move together, to stimulate our valued members in the most erotic - and effective - way possible." The last tentacle filled my mouth, curtailing the last part of my sales pitch - or at least the verbal portion of it. To be honest, I doubt that any of the audience were by now actually listening to the words I had used, but were nevertheless enthralled by the physical spectacle. Pulsing in synchronization, the two appendages between my legs and the one between my breasts forced their way deeper into me. It was clear to the machine, and to the watching crowd, that I would come very soon. The four appendages filling my various openings came impressively nearly together, forcing large quantities of authentically warm and sticky cum inside my every orifice. I came, hard, twice in quick succession, crying and screaming even around the gagging appendance in my mouth. There was a corresponding explosion of applause from the audience, as well as tell-tale gasps and cries; even though my eyes had been closed, I was sure that at least two of them had experienced orgasms at about the same time I had. The Octopus set me down, still shaking from the orgasm I had just experienced, and with the authentically warm and sticky cum was dripping from my thighs, ass and lower cunt. I started licking the remaining semen-substitute up, not wanting to waste any, and running my fingers over my breasts and between my legs to retrieve all the drops to convey them to my mouth. I had already swallowed the cum in my mouth while still shaking with passion, and the muscles in the vagina between my breasts had reflexively sucked the fluids from that opening into my stomach. Now that's what I call a milkshake!
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Part 4