DISCLAIMER: this work features explicit non-con and other heavy topics/kinks. Click the collapsible text for more info!

Mark Heathcliff has accepted his death. He wishes he has accepted it sooner, but that doesn't matter anyone — it'll all be over soon, anyways. No need to regret anything.

It'll be over. Just a thin plank of wood separates him from the end.

His hands won't stop shaking, as he reaches for the door knob, unlocking it with a click and-

The door slams open so quickly it hits Mark's hand, making him stumble back with a yelp. There, in the doorway, is the facsimile of his dear… friend. 'Cesar' doesn't even give him time to process it, it's lunging for him faster than he can blink.

Mark narrowly avoids its long, sharp claws, ducking and weaving until he's so off balance he's stumbling backwards in desperation. But the alternate just stalks forward after him. He trips backwards, suddenly aware he had walked straight into his bed, and the alternate finally pounces. Soon, he's pushed onto his bed, his back pressed uncomfortably against his mattress as he squirms in the impostor's grip uselessly.

"Three days is a long time to keep a friend waiting, Mark," 'Cesar' hisses, eyes glowing an unnatural white in the vast darkness of his room.

Mark doesn't say anything, can't say anything, only ragged breaths and gasps of terror escape his mouth.

"No last words? What a shame," it sneers, chuckling lowly at his panic. "At least, I can finally show you my gift."

What happens next is horrific; 'Cesar's face splits apart at invisible seams, his face warping and distorting as dozens of slender tentacles push out from under his skin, until it can't really be called a 'face' anymore. Mark barely has time to scream before it descends upon him, snuffing out all sound from his mouth as it invades him.

He can feel its tendrils wriggling up his nostrils, slithering down his throat, sliding into his ear canals, and trying to slip past his eyelids. One finally succeeds in lifting up an eyelid, and soon he's choking on his own spit at the feeling of tiny, slimy tendrils squeezing around his eyes and burrowing into his sockets. He swears he can feel them brush against his brain, and chokes out a strangled scream as he feels a presence in his mind.

I am meant to be here, it projects its thoughts into his -- as if they were a voice deep within his soul, you do not need to resist me.

He goes limp as the thoughts wash over him, weighing him down and smothering him in peace and tranquility like a thick, warm blanket. It was okay. He didn't need to fight this, this was normal... right?

No! screams part of his mind, hard to focus on over the sensation of wet tentacles slipping further into every single orifice, Not normal! Intruder! Fight, claw, bite, kill!

Mark groans as he squirms in the alternate's hold, overstimulated and confused by the conflicting messages. He's safe, it feels good now, why does he need to fight…? But maybe he's not safe, maybe if he doesn't fight back now then he's dooming himself... why is this dangerous, again?

The answer comes in the feeling of tendrils digging into his consciousness, dragging out memories to the surface of his mind. Memories of sitting at desks in school, of playing with Sarah, of flinching at his parents' raised voices, of praying to God, of Cesar's hand brushing against his own -- a confusing swirl of his life flashing before his eyes.

It's looking through my memories so it can learn about me, he realizes.

The realization is enough to make him want to start thrashing again, but... is there really anything he can do at this point?

No, the alternate purrs as it answers him. There is nothing you can do. It would be easiest for us both if you gave up, and far less painful for you. I promise your death will be painless and easy, if you give in. Maybe I'll even let you die happy, in a nice memory.

It sounds nice, in Cesar's voice. Mark thinks it wouldn't be so bad to die if the last thing he gets to hear is Cesar speaking to him so softly, so kindly. He sinks further into the treacherous warmth encompassing him. If he pretends, he can imagine he's wrapped in Cesar's arms, cuddling in the softest bed in the world.

If only Mark could've had it for real, if only he could have more...

As the alternate pulls memories from his brain, his thoughts drift to lonely nights, pleasure fueled by imagination and yearning. He lets himself relax, memories of his hand curled into a fist and wringing breathy gasps out of him with each electric jolt of pleasure he would feel. Lets himself imagine now, the fuzziness of his head adding to the illusion of Cesar stroking him under the covers.

Suddenly, he realizes he isn't the only one watching his shameful fantasies.

What is this? the alternate asks, perplexed. Mark is startled out of his trance, just as the memory he was buried in changes. A night he was alone in the house, particulary pent up and in need of release. Cesar's face had swam in his mind's eye as he hastily removed his clothing until he sat in his bed in his underwear, hand covered in lotion. Mark feels his face heat up as his past self slides his hand into his boxers and covers his mouth as he groans, pleasure sparking as his hand wrapped around his own cock and pumped slowly.

Mark can feel the pleasure as if he was reliving the memory, his cock perking up at the attention despite him not actually touching it. Suddenly, he also feels something recoil sharply, as if surprised. He focuses on it, and realizes he's just felt the alternate flinch.

Seems like he's not the only one who can feel the memory.

Ahhh... I... This is new.

Mark can feel something hard poke against his thigh, and soon it starts rubbing itself against him. He's too caught up in reliving his fantasy to realize what it is until it grinds against his erection in the foggy, tuned out world outside of his mind.

O-ohhhhh... how nice... the alternate slurs at it frots its own… cock…? against his. Show me more, show me...

Is it... horny? Mark thinks to himself, in disbelief. His face burns as he imagines what type of... equipment these things might have, what might be rutting into his own hardening cock.

Is that what this feeling is? The urge to reproduce? The alternate snaps -- frustrated and impatient as its newly-discovered cock throbs against Mark's own. How strange.

The alternate probes through more of Mark's memories. Like spider legs, its presence prickles at his mind, and he grimaces as it tugs at his memories like cobwebs, or pages of a book. Alternate telepathy is weird he decides, but as he gets used to it, the more... pleasant it feels. Like he's a fly wrapped in the silk of a ravenous spider, but the silk is warm and fuzzy and the spider orchestrates his undoing so, so gently. Which is a very embarrassing thing to realize while the thing is rooting around in his filthy desires like a dumpster-diving raccoon.

The alternate snorts, offended at his last thought. He knows because he can feel it, too. As if punishing him, it grinds its cock against his own just right, and he moans as his mind translates the sensation into a new fantasy; of Cesar pinning him to his bed and stripping him of his clothes.

Immediately, he feels the alternate above him rip at his clothes, growling as it fights with buttons and zippers and sleeves in its haste to bring Mark's fantasy to life. His body is manuevered, stripped bare, and groped as it replicates the images from Mark's imagination and eagerly awaits his next thoughts.

Mark has no time to process it, one moment he's thinking of Cesar, the next his nude body is and at the mercy of a handsy alternate. He whimpers as it delicately rubs his body, chest, and nipples — he can feel them perk up and harden under its touch. This thing is ridiculously strong, Mark muses, it can pick me up like I weigh nothing…

The realization combined with the wandering claws hungrily grasping his body is enough to bring many, many lewd fantasies of Cesar into his head. If this was Cesar, it would be so fucking hot to be at his mercy like this. If this were Cesar-

Cesar would spread my legs apart and unzip his own pants, revealing his dripping cock as he tugs my legs over his shoulders, he thinks, and the alternate moves immediately. It tears at its own body, ripping a void in its crotch and revealing a writhing, slick tentacle -- then immediately sinking its claws into Mark's thighs, spreadng his legs, and folding him into a mating press faster than he can blink. Their cocks press together, sending sparks of pleasure through them both as they helplessly rut into each other. It's so dizzying, Mark loses his train of thought.

Mhh... is all Mark's mind can conjure, fuzzy from the euphoria of being manhandled by 'Cesar' like a toy.

What next!? The alternate growls restlessly, Tell me, show me... It drags a tongue across his throat, pressing against Mark's adam's apple as it bobs from his nervous swallowing. He moans, hopelessly overwhelmed by his most repressed fantasy becoming a reality.

Mhh... inside... inside me... Mark lets out a muffled moan as the tentacles in his mouth writhe. He tries to guide the alternate with images and sensations to the right spot, until finally its cock brushes up against his hole. There, he whimpers through their telepathic connection. He doesn't need to tell it twice, as it immediately forces itself inside him.

Mark whimpers, pain making him arch his back as the alternate hisses at the unexpected sensation. Too much, too much..! Need... need to stretch, he whines, cringing as the alternate withdraws itself. He doesn't think he's injured, at least, the slick covering 'Cesar's cock prevented any tearing.

He feels smaller tentacles tentatively poke and prod at his entrance, testing to make sure they aren't causing pain. Mark grunts affirmatively, and one eases its way inside, along with another. 'Cesar' trills and nibbles his collarbone as it fits more into him, and Mark shivers at the tiny singes of pleasure coaxed from his sensitive hole. They enter him one at a time, wriggling and sliding in just the right ways to loosen him up. This feels much better than lonely nights with his fingers, but he needs more.

It answers him.

He feels the thicker, oddly shaped head of its cock press against his hole again, but this time he's ready for it. It glides into him smoothly and slowly, and Mark keens at the intrusion. The alternate freezes as it feels the burn of the stretch, and Mark whines.

Please, please don't stop, keep going, Mark pleads with it, grasping the bedsheets under him as he tries to rock forwards and sheathe its cock deeper into himself. The alternate grabs his shoulders with extra arms it didn't have before, pinning him in place as it growls at him.

Mark nearly protests again, but relaxes as 'Cesar' pushes itself into him more, squeezing him with its claws gently. Its cock definitely felt strange, he could feel fleshy bumps and ridges on the head of it press against his walls, but the rest of the appendage was soft and pliable. With one last push, it bottoms out inside of him, their hips flush together.

Mark pants around the squirming tentacles in his mouth, starstruck. He's never had something so big and deep inside him, never thought he ever would. It makes his heart flutter with anxiety, now that he's had time to process that it's real and it's happening. With an alternate, no less. Said alternate coos and trills at him, tentacles wiggling over his skin and inside of his head soothingly, and he feels a wave of calm wash over him. He supposes it'll be a first time for both of them, in a lot of ways.

When it starts thrusting shallowly, uncertain and curious, Mark just about sobs at how good it feels. He feels so full, his hole is stretched so much, and each slide of its cock entering and exiting him is euphoria. He arches his back and moans, urging 'Cesar' to go faster, deeper.

It obeys.

As 'Cesar' begins thrusting in earnest, more tentacles slither out of its face and wrap around Mark's head, intwining and grasping until they are connected more securely. Mark moans at the feeling, relishing in the feeling of being so connected to his… lover?

Yes, 'Cesar' hisses, Mine.

The words wrap around Mark's head comfortably as he's pounded into, and he's in pure bliss. This must be the best thing to ever happen to him, really, and the thought is only accentuated by the alternate directly hitting a spot deep inside him that feels sinfully good. He moans, I love you, he whines into their psychic connection. 'Cesar' purrs, and tentacles squeeze his head like a warm hug as its hips snap forwards to fuck him.

'Cesar' hisses and growls and howls like an animal as it pounds into him — static and mechanical sounds a human could never make interspersed throughout like the sounds were playing over a broken speaker or a poor connection. Mark's mouth is still muffled, but in his mind he's screaming Cesar's name in pleasure, over and over, senselessly. He feels so full, so violated, and it's the best thing he's ever felt. He doesn't care if it's filthy, he doesn't care if it's sinful, he needs it. He just needs it to hit that spot a few more times-

It hears him. It angles its thrusts just right, the head of its cock ruthlessly ramming into his prostate over and over and-

Oh God, oh fuck, oh my fucking God! Cesar, I-I'm going to- Cesar! Mark wails through their telepathic connection, feeling his balls tighten.

Mine, the alternate gasps, You're mine. Mark feels the hard base of the alternate's cock press into him, straining at his entrance until finally, it slips inside with a burst of pain and pleasure.

They both orgasm at the exact same time, the shared pleasure flooding them both as the alternate buries itself deep into Mark's hole and comes inside him. Mark's release splatters over his chest, nearly hitting his chin with the way he's folded in half. 'Cesar' lets out the most inhuman sound Mark has ever heard, digging claws into his thighs hard enough to draw the smallest amount of blood. Mark is spasming, his hole tightening around its cock as he rides out the pain and pleasure of his high. It's so much, it's too much, but it's perfect. The only thing that would make it more perfect would be to-

As if on cue, the tentacles withdraw from his face, slipping out of his throat. Mark gasps for air, coughing a bit, as his eyes adjust to being able to see again. He only has a moment to process the alternate's dark figure hovering over him, before it locks him into a passionate kiss.

Mark moans, grabbing the alternate's back and hair as he returns it. Their tongues slide together, exploring a new sensation for them both. Eventually, Mark has to pull it off of his mouth for air, and he pants as he looks into the alternate's eyes -- a perfect mimicry of Cesar's, but so full of their own life.

His stomach swells, only the smallest dribbles of cum leaking from his hole around the alternate's huge knot. Mark groans, feeling so bloated he might pop, but nonetheless craving more. Something about the stretch satisfies something deep within him, and looking down to see proof of how easily the alternate can do things to him he never thought possible... it's euphoric.

"Pretty," the alternate murmurs, brushing a hand over his swollen stomach, rubbing his stretched skin as its cock continues to pump cum into him.

Mark flushes, embarrassed, but overjoyed by its words. He's discovering a lot about himself tonight, it seems.

"You like it?" The alternate asks, tucking its nose into the side of his head, humming as it inhales his scent.

No point in lying at this point, not after it's seen his deepest secrets, Mark supposes. "Y-yeah," he responds, voice croaky and sore from how hard he was screaming with a bunch of tentacles shoved down his throat.

"Good," the alternate purrs, "Mine."

Mark says nothing, but warmth flutters in his chest. He cradles the alternate in his arms as it strokes its long claws through his hair.