Bedtime for Pookie
His awareness was slow in rousing, but he knew from experience - many times over - over-satiation sent him into a hibernate state. Only... it was dark. He wasn't in bed any more. He wasn't under the blankets. He wasn't under the bed (because under there he could still hear his humans and the pleasure sounds they made caused him to auto-secrete. ...and the carpet rubbed his tentacles in just the right way... and it absorbed his fluids without staining.)
No, he knew he wasn't where he usually expected to wake. This wasn't even like the time the glaring one felt his intrusion. Launched into flight just as his glands were responding in the right way, he splattered the room in his sticky - but flavorful - secretions. At least the closet was warm and smelled of the glaring one's feet and the smiling one's crotch.
This place had no smell. Well, just a little one - a sort of aseptic odor clung about it. Its walls were smooth and seamless. A tentative tap with a rolled tentacle end gave off a muffled thump-thump. His tentacles went in all directions, searching for some crack to infiltrate. When none could be found, his shape began to expand, his appendages elongated, swelled and added to his mass. And still the walls did nothing.
But he discovered his new home was cube shaped. And he thought made of plastic. It was rather like the plastic toy the smiling one liked to used hardily on the glaring one. At least the smiling one let him touch parts, and he was stroked so very earnestly for his assistance. The glaring one always said he hated the stench of his glandular fluid. He knew better. He had seen the glaring one licking his stinkiness from the skin and organs of the smiling one.
Though his brain functioning area was quite small, he knew things on an instinctual level. The smiling one enjoyed his touch, craved his presence and was quite amorous in returning affection. The glaring one, though, was like stalking prey. One had to sneak up on him, and in such a way the glaring one would no longer be glaring but moaning and crying out in that special way. And his tentacles would be busy, finding places to rub and mark and enter and fill.
It was only after, when the glaring one was aware again of just who had the control and he found himself in flight. Or shut in a cupboard. And the one time in the freezer. Most of the time he was able to ooze his way out of where he'd land. Even the freezer though both the glaring one and the smiling one were upset - he had no way to close the door behind him and the ice cream melted. But, if he ever found himself in a place he couldn't force open, the smiling one would release him a short time after he'd become confined.
In his small brain, it sometimes took him a bit to recall what had taken place only minutes before. It was a night like most nights since he'd been delivered to his new home. The glaring one and the smiling one were snuggled together on the couch one minute, with him touching and caressing and working his inverse suckers over the smiling one's feet and toes and up his calf. In the next minute, they were stumbling and tripping over shirts and jeans and underwear, weaving a path to the bedroom.
He had to toddle along on his own behind them.
The glaring one was well into the sucking and licking stage, and the smiling one was enjoying the attention by the time he made it to the bed. His presence hadn't been noticed, and the glaring one didn't even twitch like normal when his tentacles began stroking his thighs. His probing was accepted; with each rocking thrust the glaring one made, he expanded and lengthened the digit.
Mass clinging to one thigh, his tentacles reached for other zones. Testicles were cradled and massaged with each pulsing beat of an arm. One slim, nearly thread-like appendage wrapped itself in a spring coil about the glaring one's appendage; secretions added to the slick glide; retracting spring added to the pleasure for both. Since mouths were out of reach, two of the remaining six tentacles burrowed their way to the smiling one's appendage. He knew how the smiling one liked his stroking skill.
He knew just when the glaring one secreted - his probing tentacle was nearly squeezed off by the contraction. He knew when the smiling one secreted - his suckers made like gobblely little mouths and absorbed it all. It had been the glaring one's noises, the glaring one's scent that had him dripping and rubbing his appendages on flesh and attempt to ooze his way between their bodies. He was succeeding, but let his probe return to normal size and slide out, and THEN the glaring one noticed. Consciousness faded as he ejaculated in flight from the bed.
His sense of time put his containment at a little over two hours. Surely he was missed by now. Three of his tentacles tapped a rhythm on the floor. A fourth tentacle flailed against the wall. The beat was familiar and he was remembering the video program the smiling one watched while they played. His body mass bobbed, keeping time with the shuffle of his appendages. His inverse suckers were clinging and releasing their holds to the sides of the cube. The sound gave just the right harmonic tone.
The light was a shock. His gelatinous mass shrank to its tiniest form. There was the sensation of floating and sudden warmth. He knew blanket feel and flesh and the smiling one's smell. His shape expanded and he mushed himself up against the smiling one.
"There," the glaring one was saying. The bed swayed some and the lamp was shut off. "Keep it on your side of the bed."
The smiling one was stroking the tentacle stroking him. "We really have to talk about you openly accepting..."
"No!" the bed canted alarmingly. "Not tonight. Not... for a long time." A hand joined the smiling one's, and one of his other tentacles touched it's back softly.