Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

This wasn’t how he expected his life to turn out, on the lam with a duffel bag full of stolen cash.

He wheezed out a laugh once he finally had a solid moment to think, though he winced at the sharp stab of pain in his gut. Collapsing against the overgrown wall of the abandoned cavern they tucked themselves into and sagging in the gravel and weeds. One arm clutching onto the great bag of money at his side, his other hand pressed against his stomach, dragging in huge gulps of air until he was gasping and coughing between laughs. He threw his head back and shut his eyes for one blissful moment of relief, and panted hard.

He kept laughing, despite his pain, when he realized that they had gotten away with it. The police wouldn’t catch them, they were off scot free— mostly.

His throat and lungs burned as he tried to bring his breathing under control, releasing the bag of cash and pressing his hand to his heart. He couldn’t feel it through the wool of his coat even if he could feel blood pounding in his ears, it was working overtime to force oxygen through every organ and limb. What he could feel was the hot leaking of blood between his fingers where he pressed his palm to the bullet wound in his gut, clutching onto the bloody hole in his coat.

It could’ve been worse. The bullet could’ve hit something more vital. He could have been losing pints of blood by the minute, and instead it was a trickle, ounce by ounce that seeped past his fingers. His head lulled to the side towards where he could hear his friend there with him after dropping him unceremoniously onto the ground, standing right at the edge of the tunnel watching the fringe of the woods in the direction where they had escaped.

Escaped… Now it had time to really set in.

“Hoooly shit!” He whooped between shallow pants, tugging at the collar of his coat, and unwinding the scarf he wore from around his throat. His free hand tugged at the buttons of his coat and shirt, the displacement of his layers allowing his overheated body to breathe and for him to get a better look at his wound. He gasps a few times, gathering the fabric of his scarf to take it and shove it beneath his bloody palm, groaning and pressing his scarf against his oozing wound.

It was cold as death outside, but running to stay alive had a funny way of keeping someone warm. He was sweating like a pig now, whether due to adrenaline, the all out sprint he had to manage with 22 extra pounds of hundred dollar bills strapped to him, or the bullet lodged in his gut.

“Goddamn pigs fuckin’ shot me…”He peels off his ski mask with his free hand, shoving it into his coat pocket, he pushes his dark locs out of his face where they fell into his eyes, smearing blood onto his forehead and cheek.

“And you hit em back twice as hard.” Tony adds and he heard the grin in his voice, before Tony shushed him and he quieted, the other man not even looking back at him as he shook his head, “We ain’t out of trouble yet.”

“Whaddya mean we ain’t?” He scoffed, his brows knit together and he watched him from the ground, his brown face flushed and glistening with a layer of sweat, struggling to get his breathing under control. “Come on Tony… them fuckin’ pigs are miles behind us still scratchin’ their balls at the bank, and with that mess we made of the car, they’ll have their work cut out for them.”

“Shush, man. Listen, just listen.” His friend put a finger up to his lips then held out the palm of his gloved hand to silence him, and he shut his mouth as he often did when Tony told him. He stood at the mouth of the tunnel, listening for something that Nash couldn’t hear.

Maybe his ears were still ringing from all the shooting earlier, but he could only hear the slightest of breezes, accompanied by the rustle of leaves on the ivy and wild brush that concealed their hideaway. His mouth opened and Tony spoke before he could, “Nash, I swear to God. Just shut the fuck up a while.”

Tony didn’t look at him but he heard the glare in his voice and Nathaniel rolled his eyes, “Some friggin’ partner you are…” He muttered, looking away from him and digging into his money bag, shoving the bands of cash away to pull out the first aid supplies he packed away last night. Gauze pad, alcohol wipes, and wound tape, which he used to tend to his own injury while Tony looked out for the cops.

Nash eventually tossed his bloody scarf away, hissing at the sting of pain and tearing the alcohol wipe open with his teeth, wiping at the bleeding wound. He cleaned the bloody hole in his gut alone, he’d been shot before, and while they still needed to dig the bullet out, he could stifle the bleeding as best he could with gauze and tape. And if they moved quick enough he could still be on his feet for at least another hour, but maybe that was just the adrenaline talking.

The tall, toned man gathered his legs beneath him, bracing his weight against the brick wall of the tunnel and pushing himself to his feet with a grimace, biting back a groan. He lifted the bag of cash onto his shoulder, leaning over to one side as to keep pressure off of his bandage, holding himself up with the help of the wall. His eyes rose and he finally took some time to inspect their surroundings.

The so called cave was… huge. As wide as it was tall, the floor covered in gravel. He sat up and looked behind them, running his exposed fingers over the stone bricks there that made up this place. Cold and damp, worn from the elements and time itself. He pushed himself to stand upright, taking a step forward into the shadows, the dirt and gravel crunching beneath his snow covered boots. He tried to be quiet about it, even amidst his pain, not wanting to face Tony’s almighty wrath.

He wandered behind him, stumbling from one wall of the tunnel to the other, nearly tripping over the rusted lines of train track that sat in the middle of it and following it with his eyes into the deep uncomfortable dark. A pit of shadow that started a few yards away and one that made a shudder run through him as he stood, grasping at the covered wound, making him reluctant to turn away from the yawning dark but he eventually did.

Stepping towards Tony from behind and resting his hand on his shoulder, leaning his weight against him as they stood and they waited— or he waited for the sound Tony was sure was coming from somewhere out there. He rests his chin on his hand, watching the forest, for a few more long moments, before he lifted his head.

His stomach sank.

The faintest of sirens finally reached his ears from the squad of searching police who were looking for them, the sound carried by the crisp winter air. He stood up straight then once he realized they were growing closer, Tony looking at him, he had taken his own mask off a few moments ago and he saw the seriousness to his face. “They not letting up, so we gotta stay low and try to get the hell out of here.”

“Yeah… Yeah, alright.”Nash nods, reaching his hand across his chest to remove his pistol from its holster, releasing the hold he hand on his side to check the clip and the chamber to count his bullets. He was frowning from his discomfort, his hands trembling, but he kept himself as steady as possible on his own two feet. “So where the hell do we go now?”

Nash felt him look up and over his shoulder into the shadows looming behind him, something he had went out of his way to intently ignore, and he was praying that he wouldn’t say what he knew he would say. And before he could could even say it he was shaking his head, “I know what you’re thinkin’ and ‘m not going down there.” He was avoiding Tony’s eyes, sniffing and rubbing his runny nose with the back of his hand.

“There ain’t no other way.”

“Sure there is.” He gestured vaguely with his gun in the hand opposite of the one that went back to holding the throbbing pain in his gut, “We got east, west, north, and south. Fuckin’ anywhere besides this fuckin’ hell pit.”

“You scared of a little dark?” His friend scoffed, and he immediately cast a glare at him in response.

His eyes hardened, despite the pallidness to his expression and he responds sharply, “I ain’t scared of nothin’.”

Tony’s hand came up to clasp his hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly there before he shifted his hand to hold the side of his face. Nash attempted to turn his face away from his touch but Tony held his head steady, making sure he focuses his eyes on him so they stared at each other.

Nash frowns at him, “I ain’t afraid of the fuckin’ dark.”

“I know you ain’t.” Tony’s face broke into the slightest of smiles, his coarse thumb taking advantage of the real estate of Nash’s clean shaven cheek, wiping away a bit of the blood there. “But it’s either through there or a gun fight, and we both know exactly how that’ll end.”

He looks him over, taking in the sight of him in his open trench coat and his bloody patterned button up and dark pants, struggling to stay upright. Before he moves his partners hand to lift his shirt and take a look at the bloody patch of gauze he haphazardly taped to his bullet wound, “And I don’t think you’d survive another bullet.”

Nash didn’t say anything for a long moment and Tony drops his hand to grasp him by the belt buckle, his dark eyes meet his greenish-hazel ones, taking in a breath when his friend tugs him a step closer towards him. He closes his eyes when Tony rests his forehead against his and takes the opportunity to press his lips against the other man’s in a brief but warm kiss which made Nash sigh. Though the copper skinned man still frowns when Tony comes away from him an inch, raising his gaze to look at him with a shake of his head, but Tony kisses him again and Nash mutters at him once the second kiss breaks, “You’re a goddamn asshole.”

“And you’re an ornery bitch.” He retorted and Nash gives him a firm shove away in response, but Tony barely moved and smirks for a few moments longer before shifting the weight of the duffel across his back.“Come on. If there’s train tracks then there’s a way outta here.”

Nash didn’t want to mention the fact that plenty of train tunnels had been bricked over, but maybe they would have some luck with the tracks that were still there. That meant the end of them laid somewhere on the other side of this tunnel. So Nash trusted Tony and his gentle assurances before he tucks his gun away and glances outside again where the sirens were growing louder.

“Whatever you say boss.”

They had come prepared. Flashlights, guns, ammo, first aid, and now enough cash to last them the rest of their lives. If only they could survive long enough to see it put to use, which meant escaping the seemingly tireless pursuit of the cops who wanted to capture them dead or alive. Although now, Nash was fighting against the clock as he felt the blood pool in the gauze, his limbs feeling heavier by the minute and the toddler sized bag on his back didn’t make it any easier.

“Let me take that.” Tony offers his hand to take the duffel from Nash and he doesn’t argue, letting him take it as it eased his burden immensely when Tony pulls the second bag onto his shoulder. He carried both duffels now across his broad back. The man was nearly twice as big as Nash and he would’ve been surprised if he had trouble with it.

Tony hands him his flashlight from his bag and the two of them switch on their lights shining them through the shadows ahead and starting off down the tunnel.

They followed the rusted train tracks as they led them through the inky darkness. Their lights barely filled the space ahead of them, illuminating the ground ahead of them. The crunch of gravel quieting into that of frozen dirt beneath their boots and their hastened pace. They needed to make it to the end of the tunnel before the cops found out their plan and could meet them there.

Nash focused his attention on the ground, finding it easier to manage the pain and spinning of his head when he concentrated on the way the rails changed with every yard they covered. Weeds grew wild across the rusted iron and rocks, the wood planks that ran horizontal beneath the rails were soft and rotten from time and disuse, neither of them stepping on them as they walked together on either side of the tracks.

Tony checked in on him in his own silent way, a glance here or there as they moved deeper into the tunnel at a rushed pace, or as rushed as they could manage with Nash losing blood he way he was. The crunching of dirt sounding almost rhythmic in a way until the sound changed in tune when their boots met the thickening of weeds and organics beneath their feet, the ground sounded icy like frosted over grass in the morning.

Nash focused on that sound. Crunch, crunch, stumble, crunch. A full body shudder ran through him, possibly a chill from the cold, but he knew better. His life substance was oozing out between his fingers where he clutched his stomach, half hunched forward as he shuffles along side Tony.

Eventually the other man cast a silent arm around his waist to steady him, and he appreciates it.

He casts a glance over his shoulder and down the tunnel, regretting it just as quickly when he couldn’t see any daylight from where they had just came from, no light behind them and no light ahead. It made a creeping feeling crawl up his spine, but before he could begin to panic there was Tony’s warm hand against his spine.

“I’m with you.” Tony reassured him and Nash looks at him, his eyes usually a rich brown that matched his skin but in this darkness he couldn’t even make out his pupils. The darkness was all encompassing, even with both of their flashlights illuminating the space around them, he could just barely make out the features of his partners face but he could hear the warmth in his voice. “Keep goin’.”

Nash sighs, his breath rising like mist in the cold air, and he considers all the trouble they had to go through just to get ahead. The cops, the running, the gunfights. He shakes his head, sniffing and closing the open flap of his coat across his body as the two of them picked up the pace again, “I’m startin’ to wonder if any of this is worth not goin’ legit.”

Tony chuckles, a deep, rumbling timbre and he answers, “Better than a shitty cubicle job at a nine to five? Or standin’ on your feet all day behind some cash register? I’d say it is.”

“Easy to say when you ain’t the one with a bullet in the belly.”

His partner squeezes him, holding him to his side, “Shouldn’t be too much longer now, just keep movin’.” He was doing his best to keep a calm mind and reassure him like always that they’d turn out okay, and it might’ve worked if Nash hadn’t felt as though his limbs were slowly turning to lead.

Gut wounds weren’t always fatal, not like getting shot anywhere else, it wasn’t instantaneous death like in the chest or head, it was slow, painful and it made you think a lot as you felt your life oozing from you. He was sure the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital because he was still conscious, he could keep himself upright, it just hurt like a bitch. Although each step forward made him feel as though he would nearly topple over, and he knew he couldn’t fall. He couldn’t fall because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up if he did.

As they walked deeper into the inky blackness of the tunnel, he anchored himself to Tony’s presence, mimicking his foot falls and breathing but every step sent stabbing pain lancing through his body. He was lightheaded as he lifts his eyes to look into the shadows ahead of them, blinking away the dullness to his vision and imagining the glow of the morning sun at the end of it all.

Nash couldn’t hold his tongue back for long as he tried distracting himself from the inkling fear that maybe he wouldn’t make it out of this hell hole, he shambles beside the marching Tony. A chill coming over him when the tunnel seemed to grow an extra degree colder and he shudders, “Y’know we can prolly go straight with how much we made out with.”

“Us? Going straight?” Tony snorts, casting Nash a glance and adjusting the bags across his back, “That’d be the day.”

Nash smiles wearily, watching the ground again, “You ain’t never thought about retirin’?”

“I guess sometimes I do.” He answered, “I just think about wasting my days witchu, it don’t matter what we wind up doin’ with that time.”

“You’s such a fuckin’ sap.” Nash laughed, gasping softly when that jostled the bullet in his gut and he couldn’t help but groan, Tony brought his opposite arm up then to steady him before he could double forward.

“Come on, you’re doin’ good. It won’t be long now, just focus on the end.”

Nash decides to reserve some of the strength he would use talking for doing just that.

The deeper they found themselves wandering into the tunnel, the darker it got, if that was even possible, and their flashlights struggled to disperse the shadows ahead of them. The yellow-white beams shed light across what seemed to be a common amount of floating dust particles that came across their path. He assumed that they were kicking up some things, disturbing the peace of the tunnel’s darkness with their pace. Though, as they walked, the dust grew with such volume and density the further they went that it seemed like some great huge thing had surged it all up in front of them.

He wondered how long they had been breathing that stuff in and he felt that worry sink in again amidst the pain, but this time it wasn’t the darkness growing this anxiety but what was hidden in it. He thought it might have been just dust at first and now he wasn’t as sure of that as the concentration of floating white puffs floated in front of their faces, and he lifted a shaking hand to catch one in his palm.

A greyish white particle fell onto the palm of his hand and he closed his palm around it, crushing the airy fuzzball onto his skin before opening his hand again to look down at the smear of wispy blue it left in its wake. It was cold like a snowflake and seemed to melt the same way, but it lingered on his skin almost numbly.

“What the hell.” He murmured, looking to Tony and catching a glimpse of how the dust caught in the tight coils of his fade which made him immediately wonder if his own locs looked the same way. He turned forwards again, wiping his hand on his coat, “Fuck man. What you got us into now?”

Tony didn’t respond at first, before he just says, “The sooner we get through here the better.”

Nash guessed that Tony was ignoring the growing strangeness of this situation as he decided it would get them out of there faster than worrying would, and he didn’t argue against that as he followed his partners lead. They didn’t have any more time to waste. He especially didn’t.

Step by step they wandered deeper into the growing flurry of spores and Nash pulled up his collar to cover his mouth, not wanting to breathe in anymore of the dust surrounding them. He had no idea how much he had already breathed in or what it would do to him, but he tried not to think about it and made sure to focus on Tony and what he said about getting out of there.

“Keep goin’.”

Nash blinked, focusing his gaze ahead of him and observing the way nature overcame the tunnel, weeds and greenery that crept along the ground and the brick that made up the walls. The air grew colder the further they traveled, or maybe he was losing too much blood. He was vaguely aware of the warm, slippery wetness beneath his hand and Nash found himself trembling.

“Not too much farther.”

He looked up at Tony then when he heard the shudder to his voice, frowning and shaking his head, “You know what my ma says about chills man… I ain’t sign up to get haunted, Tony.”

“Ain’t nobody gettin’ haunted, it’s just cold as hell.”He shivers, attempting to shake the cold off as he walks him along the train tracks, reassuring them of their goal, “Won’t be long now.”

He knew Tony was lying to him. He reassured him that it wouldn’t be too much longer, that the tunnel was coming to an end, and it kept Nash moving forward. Their flashlight beams cast across the stretch of tunnel ahead and Nash lifts his bleary gaze higher to see where his light ended. Then he lifts the end of his flashlight to shine it upwards and across the walls, he noticed the twisting vines that grew in thickness and concentration the deeper they went, the blueish-blackish limbs beginning to intertwine and overlap.

He hadn’t ever seen anything like that before and, for a moment, he thought he could briefly see them undulating against the bricks and he he stumbles forward a few steps. Blinking as his body sags forward but Tony catches him, his arm wraps around his back, holding him steady as he led him to step more carefully as not to trip over the plants that were sprawled across the ground at their feet.

“I got you. I won’t let you go.”

Nash’s mind began to run away from him as he wondered, how much further did they need to travel, where was the end of the tunnel, and was there even an end to it?

He shuddered, holding his coat closed over his frame and staggering forward a few more steps, which made the hand that Tony grasped onto him with tighten as he looked to him, “You aight?”

“Despite the bullet…? Yeah, ‘m good... Never been better.” He blinks a few times, feeling the dust on his eyelashes and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Looking at his hand after to see it smeared in that glowing dusty blue before he rubs it off on his coat.

“Don’t think about it too much. It’s probably just ash or somethin’, must be.”

Ash. Somehow Nash knew that was a reach, but he didn’t say as much. It was getting hard to think about anything else but the pain and each of his dragging footfalls.

He was starting to feel his anxiety rise again, like a rope wound around his chest and stomach, tightening like a knot the longer they were in there. In his haze, he prayed they would spot a speck of light soon, just one hint of the morning sun that waited for them on the other side of the mountain.

He thought that he would follow Tony anywhere, but if he asked him to do anything like this again he’d smack him upside the head. They could go over it or around it, but if he had to go through anything like this again his partner wouldn’t hear the end of it. Never again. No more dark tunnels filled with mold or ash or whatever the hell it was.

Tony spoke up in the midst of Nash’s silence, it worried him whenever the blabber mouth didn’t have much to say, knowing that he was getting weaker by the moment as he braced more and more of his weight against him. The dark skinned man squeezes him around the chest before he says, “At least it isn’t ghosts.”

Nash’s upbringing made him fearful of the supernatural, Tony knew it, and while he wasn’t a superstitious man in the slightest he knew it was his partner’s special interest. And it gained the reaction he wanted out of him when Nash gathers his breath to speak even as he sags against his side, “They called spirits… Ain’t no such thing as ghosts.”

Tony nods at the correction, “Right. My bad.”

The flurries of dust grew thicker by the moment, floating lazily across the beams of light that shone out from their flashlights. The lack of light was already unsettling and now they had to worry about the quality of air they were breathing in as well.

Nash had mostly given up illuminating the way as he became weaker by the minute, stumbling over his own feet again, and Tony cautioned him, “You keep trippin’ and I’ll end up carryin’ you.”

“ ’m fine.” Nash huffs, but he didn’t let go of him, not sure that he wouldn’t fall without his help.

Tony was the brains and the brawn of the operation, even though he never admitted it and would argue otherwise if Nash mentioned it. His partner was a big man, even though he stood a few inches shorter than Nash, he was stockier and probably weighed a hundred more pounds than he did. A good mix of muscle and fat that made up that imposing look he had about him.

Nash knew he was the personality hire, he could talk hostages down and was more well connected in the underground scene, even if he wound up with his foot in his mouth more often than not. He didn’t have Tony’s stamina or strength, but Tony never held that against him.

Taking inventory of the way he felt, he was cold and his heart was pitter pattering in his chest for a multitude of reasons he couldn’t rightly explain, nor did he want to mention. He was beginning to fear what these spores were doing to him, and as he stared ahead of them he thought he could see the smallest, pale blue light glow and fade again in the haze of darkness before them.

His brows furrowed and he had half a mind to think that maybe he was going insane, maybe this was some tunnel to hell they had stumbled across. Maybe they had really died in that gun fight at the bank and were now stuck in some sort of supernatural in between, the thought sent another chill up his spine

“You see that?” His words slurred when he decided to ask him about what he saw, gripping his flashlight in one hand and keeping the light as steady as he could manage when he was trembling like a leaf in the wind. His other hand held his stomach and he felt the trickling of blood that seeped through his fingers and down his front, shuffling one step after another as they marched along the tracks.

“See what?”

Nash frowns, “I think I saw a light.”

“The exit?”

Nash’s brows knit together and he shook his head, sagging somewhat to one side against Tony, his sight blurring at the edges of his vision, “Fuck… Ton...”

Tony didn’t say anything more, striding forward and at this point dragging his partner along beside him as the two of them walked into the thickening haze of blue-grey spores. Nash’s eyelids fluttered closed, his feet went out beneath him, his entire body sluggish and his head lulling forward. His breath came in thin drags and he didn’t even realize the moment he went down until his knees hit the dirt with a weak cry, moaning at the pain that shot through him and faded into a throbbing that radiated through his gut.

“Nash!" Tony dropped beside him immediately, hooking his hands beneath his arms and lifting him up, but his legs felt like they were made of static. He couldn’t help the shout that came from him when his wound was jostled and Tony urged him, “Baby get up.”

He was quaking, struggling to get his heavy limbs beneath him again, his muscles felt like wet bags of sand as he pushes himself up off the ground weakly. Tony shrugs off the bags he carried, tugging his coat off and tossing it over Nash’s shoulders, “Here.”

“—Don’t baby me.” Nash grit his teeth, his limbs feeling so cold they were numb, but despite his tone his partner closed the coat around him, pulling on the bags of cash again, and heaving him upright with some struggle. The thinner man groaned as he rose to his feet, “No… you gon freeze your ass off...”

“My ass’ll be fine. It's yo skinny ass I’m worried ‘bout.” Tony secured the coat around him, wrapping his arms around him as he held him steady against his warm chest, and Nash was just relieved that he wasn’t trying to carry him. “Once we get out of here we’re fattenin' you up good.”

That was nice of him. To make it seem as though he wasn’t in the midst of dying.

“If … we get outta here.” He corrects him weakly, Tony wrapping his arms around him and lifting him to his feet. “Should’ve taken our chances outside wit those fuckin’ dogs.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Tony kept a hand on his waist and around his chest, maneuvering so he could still somehow manage to shine his flashlight ahead of them. Nash didn’t know where his went, maybe Tony tucked it away somewhere or maybe he dropped it, but now all he had to focus on was keeping himself upright and taking one step in front of the other.

“Only a bit longer then we’ll be out.”

Tony offered him as much extra support as he could as they started walking again at a sluggish pace, Nash barely able to take two steps forward without sagging again. He grits his teeth, dropping his head against Tony’s shoulder and gasping softly, “Y-You said that thirty damn minutes ago…”

“Yeah, well that means I’m even more right about it now.” His partner stuck to him like glue, not letting go of him as he half walked, half dragged him over the railing, “All tracks lead somewhere…” And for once Nash thought that Tony was saying that not just to comfort him but to reassure himself as well.

The dust flurries slowly became more akin to a blizzard the deeper they ventured, and despite the protections they took not to breathe any of it in, he knew they had already inhaled plenty of it. He was sure that some of the smaller particles had flew into their eyes too, as he struggled to see straight, his lungs tight and his eyes watery the longer they struggled down this path.

He eventually saw that light again, but this time it was closer and brighter, and there were… more of them than he noticed before. The further they walked, the more the entire tunnel began to glow that same hazy blue. The weeds and brush that had consumed the inner walls and ground of the manmade structure were lush with life, despite the winter cold, as some sort of strange moss or lichen grew across every surface.

The mass of tentacles didn’t end, and in fact, it concentrated and encompassed every bit of brick and dirt that wasn’t covered in other plants, the limbs were surely moving now, pulsing and inching across the walls and ground. The organic tendrils glowed a dreamy blue across the veins and splotches of bioluminescence, every inch of the tunnel was now covered in the fluffy, dust like spores. He could see them plume from the luminous blue, bulbous nodes that were scattered across the plants or concentrated in freaky pulsing blue bunches that bloomed with alien flowers.

The men had no other choice but to walk on top of the gently squirming mass of vines that made up the ground beneath them now. Tony was struggling now and Nash couldn’t get his feet beneath him, his partner dragging him yard by yard now, shouldering his weight as best he could but he was stumbling over the living plethora of limbs under their feet.

Nash coughs, his head laying against Tony’s as he was dragged beside him, feeling worse by the minute. His eyes slipped closed a few times and Tony roused him by talking again, “Tell me about what you’ll do with your part of the cash.”

“What’re you gonna buy first?” He prodded him verbally and Nash smiled tiredly, wincing when his foot was caught on one of the tentacles and he groaned, his head hanging forward. “Nash?”

He was bleeding out. The adrenaline was leaving him and he felt like there was an anchor tied to his spirit dragging him down, making him impossibly tired. He had no idea how his partner was managing to stay strong for the both of them. He was so strong. He had always been stronger than he was. And he wished he wasn’t dying because he didn’t want to leave him.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Tony asks him before Nash even realized he was wheezing out breathless chuckles. His partner holding him upright and heaving him forward despite the alien flora sprawling out before them.

“‘m thinkin’… bout the last time we had sex… I wish… I could’ve made love to you… just one last time.”

Tony couldn’t find it in his heart to laugh because he was scared. More scared than Nash even seemed to be. He knew his partner was at deaths door, although their denial of the fact kept him going, and he refused to let him go. He wouldn’t let him go.

They had given up the use of their flashlights, able to lead their way through with the bioluminescence of the bizarre plants that stretched on ahead of them. The unearthly glow of the alien looking bulbs that grew along the walls, an array of grey vines mottled with glowing blue freckles growing along every inch of the tunnel around them. The heavyset man buried his face in his hair, speaking into his ear directly as he heaved him across the rolling vines, trudging through the dark of the tunnel.

“You just stay alive. You stay and I’ll get you whatever you want. I’ll wrap myself in ribbon and put on a big red bow for ya. You just stay awake, baby.” Tony wrapped his arms around him, clutching him to his chest and dragging him forward towards whatever end there may be for them. He spoke to keep Nash aware, giving him something to cement himself to, to make him focus on his words and not the leaking of blood down his leg.

“Just keep goin’, we get out of here, we find the car, and we don’t have to think about this place again.”

Nash didn’t think he had never heard Tony so afraid, and in the daze brought on by blood loss he thought it was so hilarious that he would be the one to break the big man’s resolve after so many years together. He wished he could gather that strength that was leaking from him in his hands so he could get his boots beneath him again, he wanted so badly to take Tony up on his offer, or even just make it to the getaway car. But he didn’t believe he’d make it to the end of this damn tunnel.

“…I would’ve… rather it been… spirits.” He wheezed out another laugh, and it crossed Nash’s distant mind that he’d be haunted any day of the week if he didn’t ever have to walk through there again.

Tony stumbled and tremors, jostling Nash once before he gathers him up in his arms again, nodding his agreement when he says, “Yeah… Me too.”

They struggled to hold each other upright as their steps grew slower and heavier, shambling along the pulsing vines that sprawled over dirt and rotted, rusted rails until Tony’s legs give out from under him. The big man collapsed and brought the half dead Nash down with him where they fell face down in the dirt and weeds, a plume of spores flying up around them.

He cries out when a shockwave of pain coursed through him, his partner had fallen partially on top of him, trapping him against the wound in his stomach where he laid across the bed of vines. He shoves at him with his elbow, his eyes wide and flickering around the dim tunnel as he squirms beneath the dead weight of his partner and the undulating tentacles that surrounds him. The leathery limbs writhed all around them now, nearly burying their bodies beneath the masses and he chokes on the agony of it all.

Nash drags in deep gulps of air, crying out when he shoves his hands beneath him and scrambles, trying to drag himself out from under the other man. He was too weak to move Tony off of him, too weak to get his feet beneath him, as he shuddered from head to toe. His cheek pressed against cold, moist soil and vines slithering across his skin. He moans helplessly, gasping, his fight leaving him, blood seeping into the ground and across the inching tentacles.

“Tony… Ton, wake up... Please… wake up…”

He had no idea how he managed to stay conscious when the edges of is vision were blurred and he struggled to focus on anything. He couldn’t move anymore, his fingers twitched but he gave up trying. This was it for him. For the both of them it seemed. He could feel Tony’s warmth through his sweater but he had no idea what happened to him or why he had collapsed on top of him and he thought that was okay. They would be together in the end.

He could feel him breathing as he laid unconscious on top of him, and he felt the way his hand gripped him by his coat even in this catatonic state he was in. Nash moaned, squirming beneath his weight and gagging when the pain coiled through him, he didn’t realize it when those creeping vines curled around every limb until they tightened at his writhing. He tugs weakly on his bonds, but they only tightened almost to the point of pain, if he wasn’t already in an excruciating amount of it. Every inch of his body just one buzzing pillar of numb pain.

He blinked blearily and shifts his head to look upwards, taking in the sight of the glowing blue coils that were wrapped around his wrists and digging his nails into them before he gathers what little strength he had left to yank on them. Kicking his legs and fighting against his bindings in one last desperate failing attempt, until those limbs tightened around his joints. He felt them coil over and along his arms and legs before whatever it was heaved him out from beneath Tony’s body and lifted him upwards so he was then suspended in air.

The vines ripped him upwards swiftly and with enough force to knock the air from his lungs when he hits the ceiling of the tunnel, the back of his head smacking against the brick and his vision blurring at the edges of his sight. He blacks out then, his head falling forward to hang between his shoulders and his hair falling in his face. What little blood was left in him dripped from him, collecting in a puddle beneath him.

The wound attracts one of the curious limbs towards the source of the warm wet leaking, the end of it glistened in the dim light of the cave and the vine dilated, oozing blue from its tip. He didn’t see it when it tore off his gauze and smeared itself across the wound, pressing inside of the bloody wound and that time he stirred in his half dead daze to cry out weakly where he laid hanging across the ceiling of the tunnel. The limb sucked the bullet from him, closing its mouth around the inorganic matter and dragging it through him in some sick sort of surgery, leaving its disgusting, goop in its wake.

His eyes were wide, blinking as he searches for the source of this wrenching pain, gasping and crying, struggling against the creature that kept him bound yards above ground, strung up and held firmly in a sprawled position across the brick ceiling. He screams, twisting in the grasp of that thing, breathing wildly and crying out in pain before that bullet spat out of him, dropping from him and clattering away.

His eyes rolled and he sagged again, his body trembled, feverish, but nothing was left of his pain then besides a dull throbbing behind his navel. His wound sealed, the skin stitching itself together, leaving no scar in its wake but the place glistened with the strange glowing fluid. As it dried, the glow lessened until there was nothing but a flakey greyish coating on his skin.

It had healed him. Why? What the fuck even was it?

He was spread eagle where he was suspended in air and his joints burned from the awkward position, lightheaded from the blood loss and fading out of consciousness then coming to again. He found himself looking across the ground below him, struggling to focus his mind on anything but the nauseating spinning of his head in between moments of black.

He saw Tony there among the strange vines, half obscured by their undulating movements, sprawled among the duffel bags of cash, his discarded flashlight, and a gun. From there, he could observe the predicament he found himself in and felt fear strike his heart as he realized how fucked the both of them were as they were surrounded by dozens of glowing, writhing tentacles that emerge from the dark of the tunnel.

They had found themselves right in the heart of this organism, they had walked right in.

“Ton’ wake up… Wake up… Please, baby... Tony!” He shouted at him, but there wasn’t any response from him and his stomach tightened in fearful knots as the writhing terrible limbs spilled across his lover, burying him in waves beneath their mass.

He struggled against the cool bonds on his hands but they only tightened their grasp on his wrists, the vines inching across over his knee as they coiled around his thighs next. This thing had saved his life, but he had no idea why. It wouldn’t have healed him if it was going to rip him apart, right? But why… what did this unholy, sentient plant thing want with him?

Those vines were inside and outside of his clothing, he felt them as they crept up both his pants legs and into his shirt. The vines beneath the fabric of his clothes were thin and felt like cold water where they slipped across his skin. It was hard to tell which ones were holding him in place and which were moving over him in search of something more. He couldn’t tell how many there were in this tunnel, nor how many surrounded him as they dug into his skin.

He reached out his fingertips, finding his hands wrapping around the strange, leathery limbs that held him in place by each limb. Those ones were a bit bigger, he could get a good grip on them but absolutely nothing happened when he pulled against them. They didn’t care about him, like he was a rabbit in a snare, if he struggled they simply tightened their grasp until he was moaning in discomfort. His eyes fluttered shut as he hung there suspended in air, cradled by a multitude of strong, prehensile limbs that secured him in place, sighing and letting himself slip away for a moment.

They didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t know why he thought that, but it made sense. If they removed the bullet from his belly and healed him.. somehow… they wanted him healthy, but for what?

He startled when felt one of the narrow vines flick across the hood of his clit and his eyes immediately opened at the sensation, blinking and glancing around from where he was held in place, terror filling his stomach. His breath came to him, thin and quiet, squirming at the touch when he felt it again and groaning when the appendages tightened across his body, his stomach flooded with heat and he couldn’t help the way his cunt came to life at the touch.

“No…” He whimpered pathetically, but he couldn’t even move away, they had been trapped like prey and he almost wished he would slip away like how Tony did but he was acutely aware of every single touch and prod. Especially as that thin, cold tentacle pressed itself inside of his urethra and he shuddered, another flicked over his vagina and pressed inside as its companion sounded him. A slender little thing that wriggled its way down the length of his sensitive urethra bringing him suddenly into an early climax at the alien feeling.

Nash groaned, shutting his eyes and weakly jerked his hips, “P-Please—” He didn’t know who or what he was begging for, and if this… collective of vines even understood him or it was just running on instinct, but he pleaded for it to have mercy on him.

His eyes parted again, blinking the wetness from them to catch a glimpse of his unconscious partner lying across the ground beneath him, and his throat went dry at the sight of Tony. He watched as the gently glowing tentacles surrounded his lover just as they had done the same to him and he could see the way they raised him up along the squirming masses, sliding their oozing limbs over him.

They had turned him over so he was onto his back, lying now across the bed of tentacles that rose and fell like ocean waves, pushing at his clothes and exposing against his brown skin. Nash tugged on the coils around his wrists, “No! You stay the fuck away from him! Stop! Don’t you fuckin’ touch him you motherfucker!”He shouted at the creature that prodded his boyfriend’s limp body, but quickly realized that he was helpless to stop any of this from happening to either of them.

“Take me. I’m right here. Just take me!” He yanked on his bindings, crying out when those limbs tightened and his joints ached, each of his limbs drawn tight across the damp brick ceiling.

The thing was still stimulating his urethra and he felt what little of his cum managed to seep out around the vine in his cunt as slick dribbled from it, his face burned and he moaned as something inside him stung. Unable to define where the sensation was coming from besides somewhere vaguely radiating pain in the heat of his groin deep inside of him. What was it doing to him?

Eventually a few more tendrils joined their two siblings in their fun, the next three were a finger thick, like the one in his vagina, and wet like a tongue when they crept across his skin, slithering their way beneath his clothes . He felt them in his pants and then his boxers, pushing impatiently between his ass cheeks, he protested weakly, knowing that he had no say in how this thing chose to use him

He had asked for this. Begged for it, looking to spare Tony the embarrassment. And he had thought that maybe the thing might’ve listened to him when another of the creatures squirming, cock-like forms buried itself inside of his ass that time and his vision blurred with tears. He grunts at the familiar, yet odd sensation of having something akin to a cock stretching him open, blinking as now his ass and cunt were claimed by that monstrous plant.

The two vines that pushed him open were bulbous, not so much like a cock in that way but it seemed to work like one for the most part as they shoved their way through him, ignoring the way he tensed and arched his back. He groans when one length inched over his g-spot and he loses his breath when the other stretched its way through his ass, going deeper than anything he’s ever had inside him. It wriggled unnaturally the entire way, making him feel weirdly bloated and sending nausea through him when he felt the tendrils push out from beneath his skin and against the fabric of his shirt.

No dick had managed to slip inside of him so deeply, wriggling its way through him to the point where he saw stars that he couldn’t help it when he shudders out a moan. The lack of preparation stung, but he had been fucked dry before and that was nothing compared to plenty of other bullshit wounds he received. The flesh of the tentacles were just as cold as all the others, but the ones waiting their turn with him drooled a thick slime that made his flesh tingle as the they crawled inside of him. He felt another two behind him where they smeared his ass with that cool, glowing goop impatiently prodding at him where the others disappeared inside of his holes.

He felt the way the other two heads kissed at his perineum and coccyx, sliding their wet openings across his ass and labia, itching to join the first of the four tendrils. He opens his mouth and arches his back, groaning when the one at his ass pushed inside of him. His jaw hung open as the three writhing sprigs forced their way inside of his depths, heaving in breaths and quivering.

Nash jolts when the tentacles squirm forward, bouncing somewhat where he was suspended in air by the deceivingly powerful limbs that held him in place. He felt the tentacles slip a few inches out of his stretched hole and he thought that he could breathe a bit easier, until he felt another prod against his pussy and he felt his mouth run dry. Shaking his head frantically but having no choice but to take every limb as it was given to him, this thing would push him to his limit.

“Shit… Holy… Ngh…” His eyes rolled and he tugged on the tentacles he gripped in each hand, whining at the discomfort when the tip of a fourth shaft pushed inside of his poor vagina all too eagerly, his eyes watering as it squirmed its way beside the first. This time he felt both his cunt and intestine ache almost painfully with the way he stretched around the wet tendrils.

They pushed their way upward to flick his cervix that time and he cries out when he comes again, his urethra twitching around that first tendril that was still lodged inside of his shaft, the limb not moving even an inch when he shuddered with his orgasm. He felt sick as he thought he felt something squirm beneath the skin where his bladder sat, whimpering pathetically, “What are you doin’ to me… you fuck.”

The tentacle in his ass was struggling to find room within him alongside the first, but it made do, pushing through his colon before it twitched and he spasmed with it. His mouth opened, head throbbing, and he pants at the fullness within him, struggling to draw in a full breath when his stomach was shoved full of the foreign entities. The brown skin of his belly twitched, his abs drawn taut where they were stretched across his gut full of tentacles, and the feeling made his head spin.

He laughs breathlessly. Wasn’t this just great? Getting away with armed robbery hours before being fucked by a plant beast or whatever the fuck was burrowing itself inside of his ass in this moment. His Momma had always told him his bad deeds would eventually catch up with him, God would make sure of it she said, and she must’ve been right. Maybe this was his punishment.

Nash had ultimately been too distracted by his own circumstance to realize that the tentacles below him were soon surrounding Tony again. The beast had seemingly heeded his pleading at first but now ignored his cries to spare his partner as one of those same tendrils slipped upwards across Tony’s unconscious body. His bleary eyes focused on the sight of him where the glowing bulbous end of the grey limb pushed inside of his mouth without a single protest, dead to the world and what was happening around him.

As he watched that tentacle be shoved down Tony’s throat, and he grimaces when he notices the way his friend’s stomach twitched beneath the fabric of his sweater. He had been claimed by the hellish limbs just as Nash was, their bodies overtaken by the shameless tendrils. He soon realized he was helpless to stop any of this and as he looked at him, and he felt jealous of his unconscious state. His partner was lucky enough to have passed out instead of being painfully conscious for what was happening to them. And it crossed his mind that maybe the thing knew that Tony would have put up more of a fight than he did, maybe it was keeping him in a comatose state for its own safety, and he found the thought insulting.

His mouth opens and he moans, reamed through by the sentient vines that were buried in his cunt and ass, his eyes rolling back when he feels cold ooze spilling over inside of him from those twisting limbs. He groans, his body rocking with the short but firm thrusts from the tentacles inside of him as they buried themselves in his guts so deeply he thought he could feel them in his lungs.

He had never been so full before in his entire life, he moaned when he shudders, his belly gurgles loudly as the tentacles leaked cold slick inside of him. The goop squelching from his ass when the knot of tendrils in his guts gave a disgusting squirm and he could do nothing but groan, his twitching cunt swollen around the mass of tentacles that squeezed inside of him.

One of the slender limbs inched forward inside of him and when it did another followed suit, creeping along through his insides, worming their way through him until he was a keening mess. The sound rising from his mouth every time his entire body rocked from the force of the tendrils that coiled inside of him until they were stuffed inside every bit of his lower intestine. He felt them push against his cervix, forcing it into dilation before squirming inside of him one squirming limb at a time, spiraling inside of his hot, empty womb so quickly that it made him cramp.

Nash blinks, tears dripping from his eyelashes, his body jolts and he cries at the way those tendrils sprawled inside of his guts, burying themselves in every spare inch of him. Both of his holes burned with the stretch as he was pushed to his limit, their total size feeling bigger than any cock or fist he ever had inside of him. He thought he could taste them when they barged their way into the core of his body, bile rising in the back of his throat.

“Mngh…” His head cast forward, hanging between his shoulders, hot tears dripping from his nearly frozen cheeks, his nose red and snotty, and drool dribbling from his open mouth.

Each one of those limbs filled him with a deep chill, fighting against his body’s internal temperature, and he moaned loudly, words escaping him as he was reamed through by too much and too many of those tentacles. His eyes rolled back in his head and he quivers, those rude rods pulsing and pushing inside of him, inching inside of his intestine and burrowing in his womb like creeping worms.

They fought against each other, struggling to fit all at once as none of them allocated the others any more space than the real estate they had already claimed. He wheezed, his back arched, digging his blunt nails into the tentacles he gripped in his hands, “Just fuckin’ finish… Finish and leave us the fuck alone…”

He had no clue what he was begging for exactly, what ‘finishing’ might mean to this beast who entrapped them, but he just wanted it to be over already. He needed this thing to take what it wanted from him and go. It had already violated him so thoroughly, what more could it want from him?

Nash shudders in pain, sniveling when those undulating vines stilled inside of him, thinking that for one blissful moment he could finally adjust to how much it had managed to fit inside of him. He sobs softly, blinking and looking for Tony again to see that his situation was nearly a mirror image of his own, only instead of the smaller finger-like tendrils that abused him there were instead limbs twice as wide as the ones fucking Nash shoving inside of the other man.

Tony’s eyes were closed, the tentacle he saw in his mouth moments ago was gone now, but he was grimacing, as though he was having an unpleasant dream, which Nash wished was true. Only he was painfully aware that it wasn’t, as he watched his partner with tearful eyes when another tendril slipped up his leg, leaking that same strange blue substance that stained his pants before he watched it slip beneath his belt. He could imagine the way the wet head of the cock-limb would rub against Tony’s hairy cunt before it pushed inside him, and it made the other man moan even in his unconscious state.

While only moments ago Nash had wanted Tony to wake up, to roll over and pick up his gun to fill the creature with lead and save the both of them, now he only wanted his partner to rest. To sleep and not wake up until he got them out of there. But then what? Would they be off scot free once this creature had its way with them or would it keep them there for the foreseeable future?

A shudder ran through him.

Nash felt his own collection of tentacles eventually slow their movement to a stop, and he couldn’t tell if the deep seeded twitching within him were the residual muscle spasms of his own body or the limbs shoved inside of him. The one sounding him squirmed and he felt how swollen and tender his urethra was around the thin sprig of a vine, tingling blue-grey slime dripping from where it stuffed his bladder full. Though he didn’t have much time to focus on what it was doing to him, the way he felt damn near close to pissing himself from the fullness in one of his lowest organs.

“Ah-Ah! Fuck… Fuck me!” He shouted the words, his faculties weakening as he felt his bladder, literally felt it squirm with movement before there was a cool, leaking feeling of the alien creature spilling its bodily fluid inside of him.

Could it be any worse? He was being ran through nearly every hole by cold, slippery tendrils, his entire lower half was inseparable in his mind from that mass of limbs that pushed out his stomach. His coat hanging open around him, his bloody button down stretching around his tentacle swollen belly where it pushed outwards against the fabric, making him look fat in the belly. He didn’t have to move at all, with his head hanging the way it was, to see the way his body bloated outward to accommodate the intrusions inside of him, his flat stomach more akin to a beer belly now despite the clear outline of the curving masses.

Nash’s face flushed when he felt like pissing his pants, and as that tentacle surges in and out of his urethra he thought that he was when his cunt burns hotly around that alien form inside of him. He grits his teeth groaning, he had once been shivering all over but now the shivers slowed into sparse shudders, which he wrongly made the assuption that it meant he was coming to a more stable temperature. Only his fingers and lips were a sickly blue, a numbing cold engulfed him, but he felt that trembling inducing chill shift slowly into a throbbing false warmth that bloomed outwards from his cunt and across his body.

He arches his back, choking on the thrill of pleasure that shocked through him, straight from his untouched clit, bobbing up and down where he hung suspended in air and moaning as his swollen clit throbbed. Glowing blue goop drooling out of his urethra around the thin tendril that pierced him, and he moans helplessly when his cunt quivered and pulsed with his heartbeat and the squirm of the tentacle as the flesh of his clit surged forward.

“No. No. No… Wait!” Something was happening. His cunt and ass were full up on tentacles, which was somewhat familiar to him, as he had plenty of cocks in him over the course of his adult life, but there was something going on with his clit. He felt his eyes fill with tears, terrified at the that maybe he’d never come again which was a very reasonable fear, yet as this sexual torture continued he realized that wouldn’t be the case.

He felt the swollen hood of his clit expand outward and his mouth opened with a sharp exhale, his eyes rolled back and he groans as his cunt seemed to grow with the fluids that coated him. At this point, his underwear was soaked and his pants were sticky, but the creature wasn’t done stimulating him to the brink of insanity. He felt the fabric that bound his lower half with those creeping limbs tighten at his groin and he hissed when he felt the cool, wet fabric against his fattening clit.

“Ohhh… my god…” He twitched, digging his nails into the tendrils in his hands and drooling as his body shifted and changed beneath his clothes and he wished that the alien had any sort of concept of clothes so they would strip them from of him. Though he shook his head weakly at the thought, no, he should be glad his clothes were still on, it meant he could run, as soon as it released him he would grab the gun, shoot, and pull Tony free. He smiled at the idea, thinking it would be easy to turn into an action hero and save the day, he would do that… he could do it for Tony.

The man was quivering from head to toe at this point, sagging in the creatures grasp as he gives up any sense of fighting, instead losing himself to the pleasure of fullness and the throbbing of his fattening cunt. His pants were beginning to feel tight and he wished he could palm at his groin to counteract the pressure, wiggling his hand just slightly before losing the energy to squirm again.

Just as he finally stilled, he felt the other four tendrils inside of him begin moving again. The two in his ass and two in his cunt dragging themselves from his dripping hole in increments before they forced their way back inside of him again in a single, simultaneous thrust that sent a jolt of pleasure, bordering on pain through his body. That sudden, painful movement from the other four limbs made him come alive once more with a shout.

His eyes widened as pain lanced through him and that time he sobbed, as the creature imprisoning him within its grasp began fucking him without any hesitation or remorse. He wasn’t sure if it even felt such a thing with the way it rammed into him, bulldozing its way through his guts and into his womb. It shoved aside anything that might’ve been in its way, bulging his stomach in its wake with each firm, methodical thrust.

Nash swore he could feel it shove its way through him to batter against the back of his esophagus somehow, even if he knew it was physically impossible. He knew that it meant he would’ve been dead if it did, and he didn’t think he was dead just yet as he came again, whining into the open air and arching his back.

His eyes filled with tears and he felt absolutely pathetic, his body was numb from the cold and he couldn't tell the difference between shivers and the aftershocks of orgasming near constantly without any relief. He sighed when he heard his belly gurgle again, his body still rocking subtly with every deep seated jolt of movement from the four tentacle-cocks buried in him. The rest of the tentacles held him firmly, coiled firmly around his arms, legs, and chest.

He grimaced, brows knitting together when he feels when those limbs swell within him, somehow growing incrementally thicker until they plugged his drooling holes to keep their fluid and his slick from leaking out of him.

He whimpered beneath the uncomfortable stretch, moaning when he finally felt what he supposed he had been begging for from the creature earlier. It was finishing inside of him. He perceived the slow, thick oozing of some slime or gel like substance as it leaked from their bulbous, drooling heads. Jolting from the cold of the disgusting gelatinous goop that spilled out of the tentacles and filled each of his holes with a vicious, gunky mess that spilled inside of him, kept inside by those limbs that plugged him so tightly.

“Augh… take me you bitch… just do it… fuck me— NGH!”

That time when he said it, his stomach cramped and he moaned in complaint at the pain, blinking blearily as he realized he was being filled. Just like a messy one night stand, only this thing only ran on instinct, it didn’t think, from what he could tell, but it moved in and out of him as though chasing an orgasm. It was cumming in him, spilling its seed in nearly every orifice, and with that thought he felt his heart drop when yet another tendril wormed its way into his open mouth.

It was his fault that it caught him off guard, he should’ve expected it from what he had seen happen to Tony, but it was hard to think when your brain was floating in a haze of sensation. Now he was on the brink of being thoroughly plugged… all that tentacle had to do was inch and creep… and inch and creep… slowly worming its way down his throat and he couldn’t help but moan around it when it does.

The breath in his lungs eased out of him and he groans as the limb in his mouth stopped just short of his esophagus, leaving it open just enough for him to be able to breathe through his nose, as if the creature knew exactly what he needed to keep living. The tentacle in his mouth swelled to fill the entirety of it, pushing open his jaw until it ached and compressing his tongue. It tasted like he had gotten a mouth full of rich, dark soil. Like when he was a kid and got knocked to the ground, too small to defend himself from schoolyard bullies, before he learned how to use words and charm to his advantage or how to load a gun…

His eyes went wide and he breathed frantically, hyperventilating through his nose and grunting his complaint, wiggling and attempting to shake his head. Though, another couple of limbs eased against his sternum and throat, wrapping around his head and jaw to steady him, their writhing movements feeling something like a massage to comfort him. He had no choice but to take it all and only release pitiful moaning in response, his entire body held firm in the mass of undulating tentacles.

Nash takes in a slow, stuttering breath, more than uncomfortable and in a mild bit of pain, but it was hard to complain about that when his entire body was quite literally buzzing with pleasure. Nearly every square inch of his insides, places he didn’t even know were empty before now, were filled either by throbbing cock-tendrils, or whatever heavy, thick, goop oozed from their tips. Every one of his holes, the ones that counted at least, were stopped up to keep him from leaking as the limbs deposited disgusting, gritty sludge inside of him at a pace akin to a low flowing faucet.

It was slow going, like watching the last of the honey drool down the sides of the container, but at least the tentacles didn’t stop moving. They were ebbing and flowing in every way a normal dick didn’t, tensing and shuddering as they pushed him full of their slime and his stomach and guts gurgled their complaint. A cramp coursed through him in response to being chock full of goop and tentacles, his thin stomach had been forced outwards to make room for the squirming limbs, but now it was struggling to contain whatever it was that they were excreting from whatever depths it crawled out of.

If there were this many limbs surrounding them and covering the walls of the tunnel with tentacles, how big could the creature they belonged to be? Where was it hiding? Was it only one or were they being ravaged by an entire clade of alien-like beasts who sought to have their way with them?

He didn’t think he’d ever know the answer as each tentacle pulsed in random intervals. First, one in his ass, then the one in his mouth, the one in his cunt surged, and the one in his bladder shuddered, then his mouth again as it emptied itself into his stomach. It was careful to make sure that he could still breathe between its emissions, forcing what he realized to be its cum inside of his stomach in well times deluges of its thick, gooey bioluminescent slime.

Nash made sure to breathe when he was allowed, though, as time went on, and he was used and filled like a cum sleeve, he found it harder and harder to fill his lungs. His expression twisted into a grimace of pain, his brows knit together and nostrils flaring as he dragged in deep inhales of air. He whines when his stomach cramped again more firmly and more painfully, wincing and bouncing where he was suspended in the air, his stomach gurgled loudly in response.

He released the effort it took for him to keep his eyes open, able to focus better on the sensations within and around his body then, he breathed and swallowed down the tentacles metallic sludge and breathed again. Shuddering and outstretching his fingers, begging to finally be released, he had taken enough. He didn’t think he could hold any more.

Yet, he felt his tummy surge outward against the buttons of his shirt, stretching them to their max, the fabric creaking around his quivering girth. He couldn’t see it, but he felt as though he had swallowed a bowling ball whole. It was heavy and wide and made his back hurt as he arched beneath the way it swung free in the air like a pendulum and was only growing larger and heavier by the minute.

He reassured himself between the pulses of sludge inside of him, knowing that he just needed to survive this. If he could survive, he could get it all back out of him again eventually. It would just take a lot of retching and heaving. He was sure it would all come right back out. It couldn’t stay inside of him for the foreseeable future. It just couldn’t. It was unnatural… impossible… inhuman.

Nash groans again when his belly gurgles—no, it fucking glorps beneath his overstretched skin and struggling shirt fabric, his buttons straining against the growing swell of his taut belly. Diamonds of brown skin pushing out between each button as the mass of tentacles squirm amidst the uncomfortable amount of molasses like slurry of alien cum within him, and the tentacle in his mouth muffles another groan when his belly twinges with pain.

If he was full before, he was absolutely stuffed now. It was too much, too fast, and he found himself gagging around the tentacle shoved down his throat, hot bile bubbling up his abused esophagus. His eyes widened and he was afraid he might choke, but when he began retching, the tendril removed itself from his mouth before he could be sick. Or he thought that he would be. His stomach hurt like he ate a meal too big for him, stuffing himself to the brink of vomiting, but as he retched nothing came up.

His heavy stomach swayed in a rocking motion, upward and back as he heaved, and he moaned pitifully between his fit of coughing and sputtering. He hoped the seed would come up from his mouth but it didn’t, no matter how hard he fought for it to come out of him and relieve him of the pain. His retching lessened once he realized it wasn’t doing anything but making his already tense, cramping belly ache even harder, and he breathed slowly in and out.

The tentacles around his jaw and neck lessened and his head dropped forward, eyes blinking blearily as his gaze focused on the aftermath of what the beast had done to him. How his overly full stomach pushed outward like a globe and made him look… pregnant. More than pregnant, as his belly wasn’t perfectly smooth, it was lumpy in some ways, and even more swollen. His stomach pushed out beneath his shirt towards the upper half of his belly, and his gut, womb, and bladder were all bloated beneath that, the combination of those distended organs making him look… immense.

“Oh god… Oh my god… Please… No…” He still had no clue what he was begging for, especially at this point. Pleading and struggling had failed him, and after the attempt to void his stomach of the gritty slime proved moot, he knew that it meant getting it out of every other crevice would prove just as hopeless.

This creature had wanted this all along. It had wanted to implant its seed within him, and it succeeded. It filled every bit of him that it could with its lumpy, gelatinous cum until it was threatening to come back out of him, but it knew his limit without reaching it. Stuffing him right up to the brink of overflowing in every single one of his orifices before the tendrils finally began receding from him. Slipping out of him bit by bit, leaving him with the briefest sense of emptiness before replacing the gaps of space they left behind with a few more leaking ounces of their viscous slime to get the most use out of every inch of space inside him.

Slip, spurt, slip, spurt… His turgid belly trembled and gurgled, forcing him to gag weakly beneath the pressure as somehow the creature found a way to push his swell outward, growing in circumference a few more, uncomfortably tight inches. When all at once, the tentacles were outside of him again, yet they left behind what had been their purpose, leaving him hanging there stuffed with a belly full of permeating goop.

He had never felt more huge in his life, heavy and what felt like a sneeze away from popping, and he prayed to be released now that it had got what it wanted from him. His cunt hot, and throbbing, his clit fat was enlarged beneath his swollen pubic mound, hovering stiffly above his abused holes as they drooled his own slick and the slightest amount of glowing blue seed. He felt engorged, as though he was stopped up or plugged by something when literally nothing slid out of him once those offending limbs were removed.

He was left hanging there, panting and trembling from aftershocks every moment or so, grunting his last complaint, “Ugh… Fuck… Argh… Fuck you… You… motherfuck…”

For once, he couldn’t find the energy to kick up a fight any longer, his eyes fluttered shut and he sagged limply in the tendrils grasp.

Thoroughly pregnant and fucked raw.

Chapter Text

When the darkness eventually receded from Tony’s mind he felt like he'd been dipped in molasses.

“Nash—” His voice was hoarse when he spoke his partners name, slowly becoming conscious again, his limbs sprawled across the cold dirt. His fingers twitching as he came awake, reaching out for anything solid to steady himself against, recollecting the moments before he collapsed and frowning at the tightness in his gut. His fingers found the cold rusted iron of the train rail, grasping at it when he opens his eyes, blinking as his pupils flit around the darkness that surrounds him.

What happened to him? How long had he been out? Were was Nash?

Slowly adjusting to the dim, blue light that illuminated the tunnel, he lifts his head weakly to look around. He laid sprawled across his back, glancing to one side of him and then the other and back again, searching for his partner in the darkness, desperate to see and touch him again. Noticing the discarded bags of cash and supplies, guns, and his flashlight, he keeps looking in the shadows for Nash until he saw him. His gaze falling upon a human shaped lump across from him, squinting and vaguely making out his boyfriends wool coat as he laid a couple yards or so away from him.

He had never fainted before in his entire life, yet— Quickly, everything was coming back to him as he remembers the state his boyfriend was in and his heart sinks at the thought that he had failed him. That he was… He couldn't even think it.

“Baby?” He called for him again, hoping for the smallest of responses from him, quieting his voice to listen out for any sort of sound from him. Maybe he had only been out for a few minutes… Maybe he wasn’t too late.

“Nash!” Tony yells and immediately begins coughing in consequence to the rawness of his throat, the sudden jerking motion sent waves of pain through his entire body and he gave up speaking as a groan graces his lips instead.

His head sways from one side to the other and his eyes roll, unable to help it when he moans at the painful cramp that started up in his gut and didn’t let up. He thought he would be sick, a wobbling nausea drifting through him as his stomach ached, but the fullness to his stomach stubbornly stayed put. Despite how insanely bloated he felt, like he had drank an entire 2 liter in his sleep, and woke with a burp stuck in his chest.

He pressed a hand to his sternum, grimacing at the tightness there, and his brows furrow when his fingertips brush the fabric of his sweater where it was drawn taut across his middle. His hands dropped lower to hold his uncomfortably full stomach, groaning softly as he attempts to force that trapped air out of him by tensing his diaphragm, and he grunts at the sharp bit of pain that it brought him. Though he did manage a pathetic frothy burp in response, gagging at the taste of mud that hits the back of his throat.

His stomach was uneasy, his body quaking when the contents of his stomach threaten to come out of him but nothing came out of him when he gags. He moans, rubbing at his overstuffed belly uncomfortably and shuddering again when his body lurches, “HIC— Fuck.”

He opens his eyes to finally turn his gaze downwards where he felt that tightness in his body, and the sight of his swollen gut sent shock through his system. A gasp escapes him when he grasps at the tight fabric of his sweater, pressing his palms into the painfully tight skin. The knitting clung to him now, where it had once fit loosely around his middle, and he felt anxiety course through him at the thought of how firm the flesh was beneath his fingers.

Tony was fat on a good day, but now the soft, hairy flesh of his usual flabby belly stretched out the sweater, a crescent of skin exposed now as his shirt rode up the curve of it. He was absolutely stuffed, his middle pushing out from him with a roundness that made him look like he was sporting a large potbelly.

He tried not to think about it, taking his hands away from the tight mound of flesh and focusing his attention on getting out of there instead. Panicking would only take up time and energy he didn’t have, so he compartmentalized, like always. Whatever had happened to him was over now, he was fine. Still breathing. Still alive. His eyes went to Nash again and he hardens his resolve as he decides to make his way over to him.

The heavy man collected what strength he could find in his limbs to gather them beneath him before pushing himself upwards, digging his nails into the frozen dirt as he grips the cold soil and grass in his hands when he shoves himself upright. It was something he had done countless times over his life, but when he rose that time he only made it a quarter of the way before he was stopped by a tight pain that bloomed across his abdomen.

He gasps and drops backwards again when a cramp winds its way through his middle, his fat stomach wobbled in response to the movement and he groans when the mass gave an ominous gurgle. He would’ve assumed it was hunger, only, this felt nothing like a missed meal or two. His insides felt thick and taut like something heavy was sitting on his lungs and spine, which he supposed was true. His hands support the weight of it and he swears he feels something inside of him wriggle against his navel.

He looks down at himself again, hooking his thumbs into the hem of his sweater and tugging it downwards to cover more of the exposed skin, “Goddamn.”

Tony breathes heavily, staring at his bulky gut as he looked absolutely stuffed full, drifting his hands over the size of it and wincing when the girth twitches more obviously that time. Something beneath his skin was definitely moving, even just slightly, and his stomach turned at the thought as he drops his head backwards, focusing his attention on anything else besides his newly acquired gut. But now that he had seen it, he couldn’t get it out of his mind, the sensations he felt over the course of the last few minutes becoming all the more obvious. Or maybe whatever he now housed within him was coming awake. Alive.

His unnaturally swollen stomach and guts were both stuffed indiscriminately with an uncomfortable amount of cold sludge that made him feel heavy and painfully bloated, but he didn’t have time to give into panic. He couldn’t think about what happened in those moments of unconsciousness, and instead he turns his head again to cast a look towards Nash.

Tony prepares to move again, more careful of his body as not to bring on any more pain, as he pushes upwards more slowly than before, but he only made it a few inches before he groans when his stomach clenches again. Dropping onto his side that time and pressing his forehead into the crisp earth, he clutches onto his gut with both hands again when it gives a thick burble. He felt the weight of his insides shift heavily with gravity to one side as he laid there in the dirt and foliage, the twitching intensifying.

He reaches out, bracing his weight against the icy ground, focusing his bleary eyes to look across the tracks between him and his partner where the other man was sprawled. His brows furrow and he grimaces as he becomes more aware of the pressure inside of him, the tightness to his chest and the uncomfortable concentration of weight in his pelvis.

“Mmngh…” He shakes his head slightly, ignoring his discomfort as he digs his nails into the soil, dragging himself a few inches forward towards where he assumed his closest friend and lover was bleeding out on the ground. “Stay wit me. You gotta stay.” He gasps and collapses again, moaning when his belly gurgles and he shudders at the slow, uncomfortable… churning inside of him.

The icy sludge turned over lazily inside of him and he couldn’t help but gag, coughing again and heaving against that stuck burp in his chest, moaning in complaint when it doesn’t dislodge itself from its place in his stomach. The air bubble made his chest tight and brought him a new level of discomfort when nausea set in, unsure what was wrong with him or what was inside of him, but it didn’t stop him trying to get over to his partner.

Tony digs the nails of his opposite hand into the soil and drags himself forward, one hand in front of the other, bracing his boots on the ground and shoving his body forward across the length of the tunnel towards Nash. He grimaces when his overstuffed belly spasms, and groans when it gives another unnatural gurgle, dropping his head against his bicep.

“Baby… can you hear me?” He calls to him desperately, his voice breaking, needing to hear his voice or just see any sign that he was still breathing. He lifts himself up again to close the distance between them, crawling slowly to his side, dragging himself one hand after another until he collapsed there beside him.

He pushes himself up onto one hand, the weight of his stomach sagging towards the ground, and he steadies the tremulous mass with his opposite hand. His focus on his unconscious friend as he looks him over, first his pallid face and then his body, searching for that bullet wound. Though he recoils away from him when he sees Nash’s enlarged middle, finally noticing how the thin man had ballooned outward to the point where he was almost as swollen around the middle as he was, if not more.

His eyes searched his body for any sign of the bullet wound from earlier, and he saw nothing but a hole in his shirt and dark blood stains, the white dress shirt he wore was destroyed now from the dirt and blood. It stretched over Nash’s distended abdomen, his usual flat, nearly concave stomach was stretched obscenely from the size of whatever huge lump of stuff was shoved inside of him. But he was breathing. He was still alive.

Tony felt the hotness of tears spill down each cheek at the realization that Nash wasn't dead and he rubs them away with the back of his hand quickly, sniffing and brushing Nash’s locs away from his face gently.

“You son of a bitch. I thought you…” He shakes his head, bringing him into his lap, rolling him gently onto his back and into his lap, settling his head against his thigh. He rubs at his arm and shoulder in attempt to rouse him, but the man only murmurs, his expression twisted with pain. His partner holding him by the arm, squeezing his bicep and giving him a firm shake, “Nash, get up. I need you to wake up.”

He looked up, his eyes drifting over their surroundings. The tall, brick walls, and cold soil complete with the strange, lush foliage that thrived here in the dim light. He had remembered the way he had to drag both himself and Nash across the vines that were so thick they felt like masses of heaving worms. But now the assortment of thick and thin, grayish vines, freckled with bioluminescence gave up their creeping to hang limply across every square inch of the place. They still covered nearly every inch of the tunnel walls, keeping their distance from them now.

The limbs were adorned at random intervals across its flesh by glowing bundles of bulbs and blooming flowers that lit up as though they were electric. The spores that had been floating around them earlier had now mostly settled, the air clear left him opportunity to wonder what it all meant. Even without any confirmation, he knew that those things had to do with what was wrong with them, but also… it had seemed to heal Nash. Which was something he could never repay it for, yet, he supposed that in some sick sort of way, this was repayment for saving his lovers life.

Or maybe he was trying to find logic where there wasn’t any. Plants couldn’t think. They weren’t sapient like people were, but this plant wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before.

Nash moaned in his sleep and Tony looked down at him again, hearing when his partners belly gurgles and watching as it twitches beneath the buttons of his shirt. His legs squirmed and Tony holds onto his arm more tightly. “Shh… Shh…” Tony soothes him, though he watched as Nash’s stomach swells outward another inch or so and his eyes widen at the sight, his hand tightening on his arm. “Imma get you outta here… Don’t worry.”

These things were growing and quick. He had to get them out of there. Now.

At the sight of Nash’s condition, he became acutely aware of his own, even though he had a much larger frame than Nash, his partners stomach seemed bigger. He wasn’t sure if that was because he was skinnier than he was or because he held more of that organic substance within him, but he didn’t want to wait around and find out. So he decides to give up trying to wake Nash and instead drag him out of the tunnel himself, whether he was on his feet or not, they would complete their get away no matter what it took. They had their entire lives ahead of them now, and he wouldn’t give up their future together that easily.

The heavyset man sets Nash down onto the ground gently, gathering his legs beneath him and bracing his hands on the ground as he rises slowly to his feet, shifting around the painful bloating in his gut to ease himself upright. He pants, groaning once he heaves himself up, stumbling forward a step or two and reaching his arms out to balance himself better, his feet planted in a wide stance.

Tony breathes slowly, casting himself forward and bracing his hands on his thighs, moaning softly at the way his stomach ached from the fullness of it all. The muscles of his belly were drawn tight around the lump beneath the skin as though he had over eaten at a buffet, only it wasn’t at all completely solid, although his skin was tight. Whatever it was inside of him was gelatinous and semi liquid, wobbling with movement and sinking low on his frame beneath the weight of gravity.

He thought that he felt pregnant, even if he had no frame of reference for it. All he knew was that he was nearly in constant pain as he straightened himself, unsure if his mass was growing like Nash’s was, he ignored it as best he could. His back curved beneath he size of his gut when he straightened, pushing out the shape of it in a way that made it seem all the more prominent, and he braces his hands against his lower back. Holding the bulk of his gut in either hand when it gave him trouble as he moved at a hastened pace to gather their discarded things.

He shuffled carefully back towards where he had woke up and made sure to calculate the logistics of bending down when he stooped to pluck up each item, gravity fighting him the entire way with the consistent ache of pressure pushing out against his organs. His stomach, and pelvis feeling uncomfortably full at times when he strained, bending slowly to lift his coat and pull it onto his arms, shoving his pistol into his pocket when his belt proved too tight.

His next course of action being to collect the discarded duffels of money, he knew he was overworking himself from the heaving breaths he took and the cool sweat on his brow, but he also knew he had no other choice. Nash apparently wouldn’t be waking up any time soon, and they needed to get to the car, if they made it to the safe house they might be able to figure out whatever the hell was wrong with them there.

“Ngh…” Tony nearly doubled over when his stomach burbled loudly again and he arches his back, pushing out his belly and bracing both his hands on the curve of his back when the flesh of his bloated middle pushes out against his already too tight sweater. The hem creaking as his skin pushes out against his shirt, too taut now to even ride up when it catches on the widest part of his middle. He pants, swaying and pawing at the tight swell, gagging again, “—hurk. Ough.”

Tony held his noisy, swollen gut and sagged forward with a moan, steadying himself as it heaved again. If he had a beer belly before, the size of him now rivaled some of the biggest natural guts he saw on other men. He thought that he definitely looked more pregnant than fat now as his soft chub stretched around the heavy, twitching mass that was inside of him, the fat of his belly hanging off of the lower end of his gut.

His hands stroked his middle, grimacing at the way his sweater dug into his skin but not looking to expose his skin just yet, even when the tightness of the shirt was bringing additional pain to his stomach. He does his best to ignore his discomfort as he maneuvers himself awkwardly, reaching downwards to grab the two duffels of money, heaving them upwards with a grunt.

When he casts the weight of them over his shoulders, he nearly topples over, gripping the straps of each bag and forcing himself to stay upright. He wobbles as he stood there, feeling the worst amount of pressure now that he had hoisted the entire weight of his gear and Nash’s on his shoulders. His hands adjust the bags, securing them against his poor, aching back and he releases the straps to grasp onto the flanks of his painfully swollen belly.

He gulps down gasps of cold air, his head tilted back and back arched, trying to keep himself on his feet, “Argh!” It was hard to think of anything else besides the pressure and pain especially as he felt his stomach push forward, the size of it trapped beneath his sweater still, until he heard the fibers of the knit fabric snap with the stretch. He felt impossibly full and yet he was still inflating, he had no clue how much more he could fit inside of him or how much more this thing would grow, but he had no choice but to suffer through it.

Despite how damn bloated he felt, absolutely nothing was coming out of him, even when he gagged he only heaved up weak, semi wet burps until he hiccuped, unable to do much more than groan in complaint. He rubbed at his gurgling stomach, hunched over the bulk of it and panting through the pain, not knowing whether or not he needed to puke or shit, and sure that neither would make him feel any better. His stomach cramped badly, but he knew that he couldn’t stop moving, not when he was their only hope of getting them out of there. Nash needed him, and so he kept on.

Tony hobbles over to his boyfriend, collecting his strength and leaning over himself carefully, sinking into a half squat as he balanced his weight and the duffels when he hooks his arms beneath Nash’s and heaves him up. He grunts when he struggles to make it back upright and he felt like he would pop when he cramps again while doubled over, but thankfully he straightens himself again enough to ease the pressure. When he drags Nash upright only somewhat so he could start lugging him in the direction he could only assume was the exit.

It was slow going and damn near agonizing for him to stay hunched over for so long, dragging his partner and the duffels of money on his back with him as he stepped backward and tugged, back and tug, over and over again. He struggles with each step, unsure how he kept himself upright but he didn’t consider it, only offering the bulk of his strength to bringing Nash with him as he heaves him towards their escape.

Eventually light began flooding the tunnel as they reached the other end of it finally, but sooner than he thought. They had been so close to the exit, so close to escape, yet that thing restricted them from leaving until it had its way with them. Now, he couldn’t see it anymore, no spores, no vines, no freaky alien flowers, it was done with them.

He shakes his head, forcing the thought from his mind, swaying as he huffs and gasps in gulps of air in his struggle to get them out, “Come on… gotta get goin’.” He winces, pausing for a moment and dropping his head forward, squeezing his eyes shut with another cramp, “You gotta get up, if you can hear me, you gotta help me out here man… I can’t keep on like this.”

There was no response from the unconscious man, his head hanging forward, locs obscuring his face, he was nothing but dead weight although he groaned intermittently. It was obvious that he wouldn’t be waking up any time soon from the look of him, and he knew that meant he would have to handle this alone.

Tony grunts when his foot slips and he tightens the hold he had on his partner, his hands hooked beneath Nash’s arms as he successfully drags him out of the other end of the tunnel and through the dusting of fresh snow across the ground. He was panting, his face dripping with sweat, nothing but pure stubborn grit keeping him upright, even as he groans in desperation with each step and stumbles backward again. Gasping and moaning, knowing that if he gave up now for even a moment it would be nearly impossible to get him up again and the rest of the way to the car.

His back and stomach was tight as he hunches over him, his feet planted a good width apart as he canted himself forward, holding that awkward position for a few moments when his stomach squeezes between steps. He was growing too big too quickly and he knew that the cramps he felt were example of that, chock full of sludge that just wasn’t budging in the slightest. He wished he could just hunker down and force it all out of him, but even when he cramps, he felt no sign of release from either end of him.

As he struggles to drag Nash away from the dark mouth of the tunnel and across the length of clearing between the cavern and thick brush on either side of the abandoned rusted rails, he couldn’t help thinking there was no more room left inside of him. Though the organic material found enough space to keep growing, it overtook his guts without remorse, the basketball shaped mass on his front burbling noisily beneath his taut brown skin. That time when it pushed out from him another inch, he shouts when his sweater splits at his sides, the size of his gut finally breaching the knit fabric.

He nearly drops Nash when the weight of his belly sags forward over the belt of his pants, his belt buckle digging painfully into the tight flesh of his swollen belly, his hands slip and he ends up grasping onto his partners limp arms by his wrists. This position easier on his back and seemingly endlessly growing stomach as he leans backwards, able to breathe just a bit easier like this.

His face had been twisted into a grimace for most of the ordeal, able to just keep his focus on putting on foot in front of the other until now when they finally escaped the darkness and now he had to orient himself. He glances to either side of him and then up at the sky, calculating where they might’ve ended up, before he realized that the car wasn’t that much further.

Tony parts his eyes and cast them down to see how Nash was doing and he was shocked by how large the other man had grown. His gut was bigger than his was by a good margin, as if he had eaten a watermelon whole, and he still wasn’t sure if it was the difference in their body types or not. If he had thought he looked pregnant, Nash’s belly put his to shame as he looked nearly full term then compared to his six month gut. The other’s shirt stretched to its limit over his swell, somehow the buttons were still intact and struggling to contain the heaving mass where it wobbles high on his narrow frame.

He was stricken with guilt at the sight, knowing that it was his fault that they even took the tunnel in the first place. He should’ve listened to Nash, his life partner was a blabbermouth airhead a times but his gut wasn’t often wrong, if ever. Yet, he couldn’t help but be reminded of the fact that he had nearly lost him, if it wasn’t for that creature he might’ve been burying Nash tonight instead of nursing him back to health. And he thanked whatever god may be for that, no matter what this was.

“ ‘m sorry, baby. I’m s-so sorry.” Tony groans and resumes tugging him across the dirt, more slowly that time as he heaves him backwards by his wrists. Droplets of sweat dripped from his brow and he gulped down air, nearly hyperventilating, his lungs struggling to expand in the shrinking space afforded to him by his swelling gut. He was lightheaded, sick to his stomach, and trembling from the pain, but he stubbornly didn’t give up, “We almost there. Hold on… Just hold on.”

Nash made no sound other than sighing and groaning, while his belly gurgled, loud and alien like, the buttons of his shirt pulled tight against the growing peak of his stomach diamonds of his reddish-brown skin showing through.

The grown man was somewhat easy for Tony to lift on a good day, though Nash despised it when he did so he avoided doing it. As he tugged him along over the frozen dirt and fresh snow it crossed his mind that now it might be unusually difficult to lift him up into the car once they finally got there, but he thought that didn’t matter. He would manage it, just like he always did.

It was only a few more yards before they made it to the Cadillac, dragging Nash off of the beaten path, away from the discontinued railroad tracks and into the nearby thicket where they left the car earlier that morning before the robbery and the shootout and whatever the hell happened back in the tunnel. They had made their escape by the skin of their teeth, no sign of the cops or police dogs or even a helicopter, but they still had another leg of this journey to get through.

He sags backwards against the Cadillac when he finally releases his hold on Nash, leaving him there on the ground for a few moments while he nearly fainted again, his vision going blurry and dark around the edges. His chest was heaving, panting as he struggled to catch his breath and casting his head backwards as he braces himself against the roof of the old Caddy, pushing out his bloated stomach. Feeling impossibly swollen, his throat tight and his ass feeling dangerously full as if he might pop from both ends, moaning and grasping at his flanks.

The heavyset man eyes squeezed shut, gathering what little was left of his strength and sitting up as he steps over Nash, bracing onto the car when he stumbles a few steps forward before doubling over. “Hulk—” He covers his mouth, frantically shrugging off the duffels of money, he drops forward with another harsh gag, hanging off of the side of the car with one hand. Groaning and pressing his opposite palm into the tight uncomfortable mass that was his belly, panting through the sudden wave of intense nausea as he expected it to finally end in something fruitful.

He needed whatever it was inside of him to be out as soon as physically possible, yet, despite his wishes, it stayed stubbornly in place. The slew of thick, burbling masses infesting his guts grew relentlessly within him, increasing the weight and pressure he felt by the moment to the point that he thought that he might pop, and then some. Even as Tony rocks himself forward and back, tensing his stomach to force that pressure in his stomach upwards into his throat, coughing as he struggled to push out the mass that sat uncomfortably in his chest.

He grunts and takes his hand as he opens his mouth to shove two of his fingers inside, forcing the tips of his fingers against the back of his throat to manipulate his body into throwing up. His back arched, mouth forced open as he chokes on his fingers, heaving as he gags once then moans, “Come on.”

He huffs, grimacing at the gritty taste that coated his mouth and hunching over, shoving his hand inside of his mouth again to tease his gag reflex into throwing up the contents of his stomach. He winces and pushes his fingers down his throat until he shuddered and retched, pulling his hand free and coughing harshly for a few moments before he drags in a ragged breath.

Tony breathes firmly in through his nose and out through his mouth, focusing on that thickness in his chest and grunting, “Get outta me you fu— Hic!”

He choked on a gag when his stomach lurched and his body doubled over automatically in response, bracing his weight on his knees and gagging harshly as the mass in his throat did finally come forward with the help of the pressure inside of his stomach. The force of the gag nearly taking him to his knees when his guts churned and that time he burps up a wet wave of gritty slime, spitting up the wave of foamy sludge that spills out of him.

Tony coughs harshly between gags, grimacing at the taste that was like he had downed fistfuls of river mud, he drops to his hands and knees on the icy ground and heaves as he forced up the stuck unnatural mass in his throat.

The man hiccups, the weight hanging from his front wobbling from the slightest of movements, gurgling ominously. He winces when his body tenses and he rocks with the force of the the next lurching gag, holding onto the side of his fat, swollen gut and falling into a brief fit of uncontrollable retching and then again when he coughs. A full body shudder overtook him, choking on the solid form that slipped in increments up his trachea, it felt hard and round and made his chest hurt as it came up out of him after forcing his fingers down his throat.

For a moment he lost the ability to breathe, his vision darkening briefly at the edges, fear filling his mind. No clue how it would come out of him or how it had even fit inside of his body in the first place, but he had started the ordeal now and couldn’t stop it from coming as his body jolts. His mouth hangs open, burping hard once and then again even harder, eyes widening as his body heaves before finally he coughs up the mass onto the ground.

A clump of three bioluminescent globules fell to the ground beneath him, stuck together with bits of glistening, blue slime, each bulb no bigger than a golf ball. They had been soft enough for him to puke them up, semi-solid like Jell-O, the outer edges very nearly transparent and the core of it a deep blue. Sort of like frog spawn in a way. Like eggs.

Tony spat the taste of cold, gritty mud from his mouth, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and groaning as he sat back on his knees, “Fuck… What the fuck…” His brown eyes were wide as he stares down at the result of his painful bout of heaving, blinking as he registers the fact of the matter.

He had just vomited up eggs. His fingers had gone down his throat and up came only three of the writhing fucking things that had been implanted inside of him when he had been unconscious. That monstrosity of vines in the tunnel had left its spawn inside of him and from the effort it took to force out three measly eggs he knew it would be impossible to retch the rest of the batch out of him without harming himself in the process.

His attention went to Nash, realizing that he was in the same boat when he took in the sight of his belly again, the size of it terrifying him and yet he knew that he was only going to get bigger. They were only going to get bigger. Their bodies were housing an indeterminate amount of alien plant eggs and from how tough it was just getting the last three out of him Tony came to the conclusion that they would have to wait for them to come on their own.

In the meantime he needed to get Nash, their bags, and himself into the Caddy for the drive back to the safe house. There they could figure this shit out, they just needed to hold out and wait.

Tony gathered himself, reaching out to the car beside him and steadying himself against it as he dragged himself to his feet, doing his best to ignore the way his stomach churned. The cramping was bearable for the most part, it was just the pressure that was the most uncomfortable when he maneuvers himself to collect their bags from where he dropped them. Avoiding even casting a single glance at what had come out of him, and instead focusing on getting them out of there.

He opens up the car door and tosses the duffels onto the floor of the backseat, panting as he comes back to Nash, not waiting a moment longer before he leans over and grabs at his boyfriends limp form. Using all of his remaining strength to gather the other man in his arms and yank him upwards as best he could so he could shove him and every one of his long limbs into the back of the car so he laid sprawled across the leather seat.

“Ngh—” He grunts when his stomach twitches and expands another inch in width around his waist, his torn sweater becoming tight again around the ever widening mass of his noisy, growing swell, reminding him that the growth wouldn't end any time soon.

All he really could do was pant through the almost painful spurts of inflation, his stomach uncomfortably tight and he was as lightheaded as he steadies himself against the car. His poor back pulled into an arch by the increasing amount of weight on his front, twinging beneath the size of it. Forced into maneuvering his body in unavoidable ways with how it increased in size faster than he could, swollen enough that his ruined sweater couldn’t hide it, let alone contain it as the unstoppable mass surged forward.

It pushed out steadily from his waist, the dark skin of his belly inflating outwards, his belt digging into the semi firm flesh. And he felt somewhat relieved that he had somehow managed to lift Nash into the car, even at the expense of increasing the discomfort he was in he had done it, thankfully, before the size of his belly could keep him from bending over . Now all he had to do was drive.

His back twinges when he straightens himself, moaning and swaying just a bit when he came upright, taking a step back and making sure Nash was secure before he closed the door to the backseat. He staggers around the car, tugging open the drivers side door and removing the gun from his pocket as he sinks down in the front, setting the weapon down on the seat beside him. Shifting backwards so his back pressed firmly against the leather seat and grimacing when he feels his navel brush against the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

He needed to be quick or he might end up stuck behind the wheel. So he reached up and opened the visor above him for the keys, pushing the key into the ignition and turning over the engine. His eyes focus ahead of him, orienting himself before he shifted the car into gear and pulled the car out of its hide away towards the back road that got them there.

It would be back roads until they got to the safe house. Dirt and gravel, avoiding highways where the cops most likely had set up roadblocks for what he assumed would be a city wide man hunt. They had planned for that. But this?

Ending up with a belly full of alien eggs wasn't part of the plan. It was the furthest fucking thing from it.