mikkeneko | WIP, tentacle fic.

Not finished yet, but I wanted to post what I had so far. Criticisms now, because I suck at changing things once they're done...

The Root Of All Evil (so totally advertising for a better title)
Rating: NC-17
Category: Tentacle porn
....what?

Ed entered the laboratory with his own brand of stealth; that is to say, he kicked the door in.

The place was more spacious than he would have expected, for an underground lab. Bulky pillars set at intervals around the interior walls gave it a cavernous, rather than an open look. Oddly colored lights glowing in places gave enough illumination to see by, but not really enough for him to feel comfortable. The little he could see of the plaster walls -- and the benches and tables crowded against them -- were filthy, but much of the mess was new, fresh, not old.

Ed found himself glad, once again, that Al was safely on a train back to Central with their 'report'. Neither Ed's commanding officers, nor Ed himself, were particularly happy that Al insisted on tagging along with his older brother on assignment even now that his body had been restored. The military wasn't happy with it because Al was now most emphatically a civilian, and an underage one; and Ed wasn't pleased with the prospect of risking his baby brother's new body to the kinds of lunatics and weirdoes that he somehow always got stuck with taking care of.

Like this one.

Robert Marchant was an Alchemist gone rogue; he'd been practicing without a license for fifteen years now, ever since his last failed attempt at passing the State exam. For the most part the military had been happy enough to ignore him, as long as he was neither a potential resource nor a potential threat. Lately, however, there'd been reports of strange disappearances in the area, and of creatures that witnesses couldn't properly describe.

If Marchant -- whose specialty had been listed as agriculture -- was breeding unauthorized chimera...

Better safe than sorry, Ed decided on an impulse, and he clapped his hands and dropped them to the floor, pulling a weapon out of the stone. The bright light of the transmutation momentarily lit the lab interior, illuminating the dull sheen of metal instruments, glinting off metal grating set in the floor, and reflecting in a pair of green-violet eyes in the dark.

Well -- that answered that question. Ed straightened up, dropping his spear into a ready position, as a menacing snarl split the eerie quiet of the lab.

"Come on, you stupid mutt," Ed told the pair of eyes, beckoning with his automail hand. "Let's get this over with. I promised my brother I'd take the next train out of this dump."

The snarl increased in volume as the eyes crept forward, and Ed's eyes widened briefly as the rest of the creature became visible. Holy shit that's one ugly dog was all that had time to pass through his mind before the creature lunged.

The fight was short. The chimera was fierce, and well-equipped with fangs and heavy, filthy claws; but Ed's weapon had reach, and Ed had the benefit of experience. Two or three passes with the spear, and several overturned lab benches later had the beast yelping in pain as it tried to drag itself away with two paws, and Ed stepped up swiftly behind it to finish it off cleanly.

"Ugh, what a mess," Ed muttered as he knelt beside the creature's corpse. "No wonder you were so vicious, this had to have hurt. This guy might be making chimera, but he sure isn't too handy at it. What's this, hyena and... armadillo? For fuck's sake, the armor's completely useless if it's not going to cover the vital places..."

"I entirely agree," spoke a voice unexpectedly behind him. Alarmed, Ed jumped to his feet and whirled around; even as he turned, however, he felt a hot stinging sensation in the side of his neck.

His hand flew up to clutch at it, and ripped out a gleaming metal tube. He raised his eyes to see a shadowy figure of a man, lowering something long and gleaming. "You cheating bastard!" Ed said in disbelief, even as his vision began to blur and darken. Damn, but whatever this shit was, it acted fast.

Ed lunged into the concealing darkness, hoping to take out Marchant quickly.... but the darkness swallowed him first.

================================

Ed woke up slowly, and wished he hadn't.

His head was pounding, and his mouth was filled with some particularly rancid taste. Because of the drug, he thought hazily, before he could connect enough to remember who had drugged him and why.

Drug... He fought his way closer to consciousness, ignoring the flares of agony from his headache. I... was fighting... he drugged... me...

Marchant!

With that thought his eyes flew open, and he jerked forward, trying to bring himself up into a fighting position. He stopped short before he'd gotten more than a few inches, and a gasp of pain escaped his lips as his joints and muscles protested painfully.

His eyes flew open and he began to thrash wildly against the unexpected restraints. It was a long moment before he could get hold of himself enough to settle down, stop panicking and try a more scientific approach.

He was sprawled on his side on the floor and something was wrapped tight around his legs, his waist and holding fast to his automail arm. Nothing would give, no matter how fiercely he yanked.

Taking a gulp of air to steady his breathing, Ed tried to twist around to get a look at his restraints, but the angle was bad and it was too dark. Instead he looked up, trying to figure out where he was.

The first thing to meet his eyes was stone, rough dark stone barely illuminated by sickly yellow light filtering in from somewhere overhead. The light made curious crosshatches on the wall, and as he craned his neck backwards he realized the ceiling above him was some kind of metal grating, through which fragments of drab and filthy walls were visible.

The lab, he recognized. Marchant's lab... so he hadn't been moved far.

"So you're awake, are you?"

"Marchant!" Again, Ed tried to pull up against his restraints, to stand up and face his enemy, but again he was brought up short. The best he could do was torque his spine uncomfortably to turn his face up to the ceiling, a vulnerable position that he did not like at all. "You crazy bastard, what did you do to me? How long have I been out?"

The older Alchemist's smirking face appeared over the edge of the grating above, dark hair hanging down in greasy lanks. "You're pretty rude, for a brat who broke into my laboratory, smashed up my experiments, and killed one of my prize chimera, aren't you? Ha! Not long, not long. Just about long enough, I'd say."

"Long enough for what?" Ed grunted, twisting awkwardly as he tried to work himself against his bonds.

Even through the grating, Ed saw the angry expression on Marchant's face twist into something oddly resembling fondness. "Long enough for my lovely Hazel to get a good hold on you... isn't that right, Hazel?"

The older man leaned forward -- from where he'd apparently been crouched at the edge -- and reached out to stroke the bole of the large pillar rising through the center of the grating --

-- the pillar was a tree! It all fell into place from this new perspective; the towering pillar rising up from the pit was a tree trunk, one of the bizarre, twisted specimens he'd seen when he'd first entered the lab.

He was at the bottom of a specimen pit in Marchant's labs, and he was ensnared in a tangle of --

-- thick woody roots.

Now that he had a better idea of what was happening, Ed tugged fruitlessly at the touch, resistant fibers, testing how each tree root had wound its way around him. His right side was aching faintly from bruises, where he had apparently landed after being tossed into the pit unconscious.

Heavy roots were looped around his right leg from ankle to knee, thinner roots twining above them; he could get little feedback from his automail, sprawled slightly further away, but it seemed to be fixed fast. His right arm would not give at all, and as he twisted around he realized with a sickening shot that the roots had grown right into the automail, gripping a firm hold on the metal skeleton and twining with the wires.

"Son of a bitch!" Edward swore, fear and anger exploding. "What the hell are you up to, you motherfucking lunatic! Come down here and fight me fair, why don't you?" He thrashed against the roots, not so much seeking to escape now as simply needing an outlet for the panic and outrage welling up in him.

"Pah!" Marchant spat onto the grating, although it dissipated before it landed on Edward. "You State Alchemists, you're all the same. Riding on your high hobbyhorses like you're better somehow, when the truth is, you're no more than a group of blundering arrogant numbskulls! Everything's about brute force to you lot, isn't it! You don't have the brains to appreciate refinement, or subtlety..."

While Marchant ranted on, Ed took the opportunity to squirm frantically against the roots, seeking the tiniest bit of give that would let him free his left arm. He just needed a surface to draw on, or scratch an array... if only he had something, anything, to draw with...

"...toss me aside, will they? Eh? Don't think me plants have the right offensive capability, is it? Is that what you think?"

"I think..." Ed grunted, straining his left shoulder against the weight of the roots, "you're a bitter... old... dropout..." Every time he thought he'd gained a bit of slack, it was as if the vine curled around him tighter. No, it wasn't just his imagination! He realized with a start that the roots around him were growing, slowly but still unnaturally fast for a simple plant. But then, this was no ordinary plant, he ought to have figured that out from the speed with which the roots had grown around him while he was out.

What the fuck was Marchant doing with these plants?

"Well, I'll show you!" Marchant stood up and took a few paces around the edge of the pit; Ed craned to see what he was doing, and caught a glimpse of the edge of some kind of array, embedded into the thick pillar of a trunk. "All the prestige, all the glory is in research on animals, eh? But with plants you can get so much better... control..."

He touched the array, and it glowed to life, casting yellow sparks even down into the pit. A moment later Ed yelled as the roots around him suddenly came alive -- more alive -- and began surging around him almost frenetically.

Thick brown roots slid up Ed's legs towards his body, growing with unnatural speed, growing faster than Ed could kick them off. Tiny sprouting rootlings on the underside of the roots dug in a secure grip, and he could hear fabric ripping as the roots climbed their way up his clothes.

For a moment, a heavy pressure enveloped his chest, as a huge taproot slid over him, and the dark pit darkened further as he struggled for air. A moment later, though, it had moved away, and Ed found himself pulled and stretched inexorably with the direction of the roots' growth.

Briefly, a heavy pressure enveloped his chest, as a huge taproot slid over him, and Ed found himself pulled and tumbled inexorably with the direction of the roots' growth. The pressure tightened, and the dark pit darkened further as Ed gasped for air.

"That's enough, my sweet," he heard Marchant's voice coo from somewhere up above, although he seemed to come from a great distance. "We don't want to crush him too quickly."

A moment later, the pressure eased, and Ed panted heavily as his vision swam. "What..." he gasped out, but couldn't find the air to complete the question. His left hand clutched and scrabbled for purchase, but a cold, rough textured root had twined its way around his wrist, holding it helplessly out and away from his body.

In fact, Ed discovered as his eyes cleared, he was spreadeagled on his back in the mass of ropy roots, both limbs and automail pinned somewhere under the heavy plant. The roots were like a bed of snakes, surging and wriggling around and under him, and panic gave him his voice back. "What the fuck are you doing, you asshole! Are you trying to kill me, or not?"

"Oh, you'll die," Marchant's cold voice came down from above, and the alchemist's sneering face reappeared above the grating. "But not until you know humiliation, real humiliation, the kind I had to suffer at the hands of arrogant State Alchemists like you!"

"It's not my fault you're too much of an incompetent for the State," Ed gritted out, but he was sweating, not only from the fruitless effort of resisting the plants but from fear as well. This thing was too strong for him, it was just too strong, an elemental force of nature. He couldn't reach a suitable surface, had nothing to draw with even if he had, and he could feel nothing at all from his automail any more.

"Incompetent, am I?" Marchant snarled. "We'll see about that, won't we? You'll see..."

Ed regretted his taunt a moment later, when he heard the distinctive crackle of alchemy again.

Immediately the roots began to move again, but with a much more restrained, almost purposeful motion. What the hell, it's a plant, Ed thought desperately, it can't think, of course it's not purposeful... Just how much had Marchant altered these plants, anyway?

A handful of smaller, more slender rootlings were beginning to sprout from the thicker taproots, creeping up Ed's legs and from under his stomach and chest. His shirt began to shred under the pressure of their passage, and the roots slipped in to slide and grow along his bare skin.

To his horror, the roots seemed to have a deliberate goal in mind, converging inexorably on his stomach and between his thighs. He yelped and thrashed when the first one slid under the waistband of his pants, and before long he could feel even that leather material giving under their force.

When the first slender tendrils began to curl around his penis and balls, sending cold shocks of terror up his spine, he really began to panic, bucking and yanking indiscriminately at his heavy, living manacles. "No, nonono, get off me, get away!"

From somewhere above him, he heard Marchant's high, cold laughter, but he wasn't really paying attention. All he could focus on was the feel of those cold, slippery tendrils sliding around his sensitive genitals. Even as his mind curdled in terror at the thought of them digging in, or tightening their hold, another, more primitive part of his brain was waking up and taking notice of how pleasurable the stimulation felt. "No," he choked out.

He twisted his hips, desperately trying to pull away from the unwanted, disturbingly sexual touch, but that only served to increase the pressure of their touch. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips, and his hips jerked again, almost of their own volition. He was getting hard, oh fuck, he was getting hard from this, and it didn't seam to matter how much he freaked out about it, because his body wasn't listening to him. "Fuck!"

"You're getting the idea now, boy!" Marchant's voice shouted gleefully down at him. "Amazing, isn't it? The precision, the degree of control? Consider yourself lucky, that you get to experience it firsthand!"

"You... sick... bastard!" Ed spat out, in time with his involuntary spasms. "What kind of... twisted... perverted mind... would come up with... this?"

"You call me the pervert, eh, boy? I'm not the one who's enjoying it!" Marchant sneered.
"Not so arrogant now, are we?"

Ed bit down on a strangled groan of fury and humiliation, every muscle tensed against the assault, and forced himself to still. The tendrils were still writhing, the soft susurration of movement and growth assaulting his ears from all directions, and the sensations were almost unbearable, but he held down on his movement with an iron will. It wasn't any good, he wasn't any closer to escaping this way...

He didn't have to play along with Marchant's perverted game... he didn't! He couldn't help how his body was reacting, but it didn't mean anything -- it was an involuntary natural reaction. So long as he didn't... move... fuck... fuck... fuck!

It took Ed several long minutes of agonizing self-discipline to realize that simply not moving was not an adequate solution. Because whether he moved or not, they kept up their merciless teasing, and nothing he could do could make them stop. He gritted his teeth, feeling sweat slick off his skin and mingle with the gritty slime that the roots were coated with. "Stop it... cut it out..." he whispered involuntarily, almost under his breath, because every swear word or angry demand just made Marchant laugh even more.

A fine involuntary trembling was overtaking the muscles in his legs, already exhausted from futile straining. It was only a matter of time before his struggling collapsed, his muscles gave out, and he could no longer prevent the insistent pressure forcing his thighs apart. He whimpered -- then cursed himself furiously for the weak sound -- as he felt a root tendril slowly slide its way up his leg, under his thigh, and began to inch along the cleft of his ass.

He clenched his muscles, instinctively trying to defend himself, but it was no use against this mindless, relentless, inexorable pressure. No amount of frantic writing would allow him to move away from the intruding root, and Ed couldn't stifle an agonized cry when his resistance finally gave out, and the root drove forcefully inside his ass.

"You fucker!" he screamed, more to distract himself from the violation and to give himself back some sense of control than out of any hope of moving his enemy. "I'm going to fucking kill you, you hear me, Marchant, I'm going to crawl out of this fucking pit and fucking kill you..."

"What a one-track vocabulary," Marchant's taunting reply floated back to him. "Got something on your mind, boy?"

"I'm going to fucking... make you... eat this plant!" Ed howled, nearly wrenching his arm out of its socket as he arched up away from the bed of plants. The root inside his ass was pushing steadily further in despite his attempts to escape, and the forceful roughness of it burned despite the cold slimy ichor coating it.

Yet through this all, the slender tendrils had never ceased their writhing, pulsing movements around Ed's cock, and he couldn't fight the pleasure those sensations stoked in him. Even as he writhed, panting, in the unforgiving grip of the roots, the invading tendril brushed against something inside him that shot vibrant arcs of pleasure up his spine and down his legs. He arched again, with a helpless cry.

"Oh no, boy," the voice came down to him, poisonously cold and vicious in its satisfaction. "It's you who'll be eaten."

"Wh -- what --" Ed couldn't form a protest, or even demand an explanation. The more the unforgiving root inside him swelled, the more often it pressed against that spot within him, shocking his body with pleasure and stopping any attempt at coherent thought. Any time he moved his hips in the slightest bit, it struck again -- and with the tendrils ceaselessly working around cock, it was so hard to try and hold still. "Ahh --ahhhhhh!"

"You see, you're worthless to me," he faintly heard Marchant say, over his pounding pulse, "except as a sack of fertilizer to feed my beloved plants. I'll just leave you all to Hazel -- she's earned a treat. Plenty of nitrogen and calcium in those bones, eh? You're an alchemist, you should know the formula by now."

Ed would have liked to make a scathing reply, but all that emerged was an inarticulate gurgle. The swelling root inside him pressed hard against his prostate, a non-stop counterpoint of ecstasy to agony, and his body jerked once, hard, in the wooden cage of roots as he came.

"Oh, good show, boy," Marchant sneered, as Ed's shivering form went limp. Ed could hardly even muster up the energy to despise him.

Something was slithering at his neck, creeping up the side of his jaw. Ed recognized the form of another rootling just in time to slam his mouth shut, before it could creep between his jaws. He turned his head away, but there was another one on the other side; blindly seeking, it wormed its way between his lips and slipped insistently along the tight barrier of his teeth.

With a growl, Ed snapped his teeth and bit down hard on the tendril -- it wriggled disgustingly in his mouth for a moment before he managed to bite through it, and spat it out to the side. It left a foul, slimy taste in his mouth, and he spat again, to try and relieve it. "You're a fucking --"

Speech was a mistake; it gave the roots access to his mouth. He bit down hard again, but the roots were too fibrous, too tough for him to sever, and Ed gagged as the root slowly forced its way into his mouth, spreading his jaws apart. He jerked his head back, trying to rid himself of it, but it only followed him, pinning his head back against the writhing mass of roots.

"Tell me, boy, have you ever seen a solid stone boulder split in half -- inch by inch -- by the roots of a tree?" Ed's wild, staring eyes could barely make out Marchant's face as the man leaned down, gloating at him. "Patience and time, that's all it takes, while the tree seeks out the stone's weak places.... worms its way into every crack and crevice... and just keeps on pushing and pushing... and slowly, tears that stone apart..."

Ed could imagine. Vividly imagine. Cold sweat broke out over all his skin, his shaking limbs.

"Well, guess what -- you're about to find out what it feels like to be the stone."

~tbc: About 2/3 done I estimate. Still need another scene or two.

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