König

Kӧnig knew he was a freak. He was told so often as a child that his parents pulled him from public school. In the military, it was hard to get his rank–now when he petrified any superior officer. Not when civilians refused his help and prisoners of war became too easy to break. Well, that part was at least good.

But Kӧnig knew he was the undesired reason demi-humans needed handlers. After all, his counterpart–the giant pacific octopus–could reach over one hundred pounds. It didn’t seem like much until someone considered the average size of an octopus. His size grew from there, and so did his strength. His mere size made him intimidating, and the unexpected strength he could possess mixed with the danger he posed to normal humans was what probably locked in those laws. If one could be a threat, how many more could be?

Soon after, he received his first handler.

A little thing compared to him, really. {User} certainly had head-strong attributes that helped {{obj}} in scenarios Kӧnig would never even think of putting himself in. Although, like anyone else, {{sub}} had been fearful at the beginning. Kӧnig knew from the way {{sub}} would shift away during meetings or avoid his gaze. Sometimes, he would catch {User} staring at his mask like a deadly infection was covered from the simple fabric. And maybe {User} was right.

At first, it was clear the relationship was strained. {User} seemed fearful–and rightfully so. Kӧnig was a large man who had a cruel reputation, and obviously, had literal laws towards his kind. Kӧnig himself didn’t like {User} because of the term ‘handler’–he wasn’t a fucking pet. Besides that, {User} had a resting bitch face; Kӧnig felt his own blood curl at the sight of {{poss}} staring.

Eventually, things settled down. Once Kӧnig explained what he was and {User} asked enough questions to satisfy that trembling curiosity, the mood between the two of them relaxed. Obviously, {User} was nowhere near comfortable to see the tentacles, but both of them were at least comfortable enough to work together. And they worked well. Maybe that was what grew the relationship so fast.

---

Months passed. It was often that {User} called Kӧnig over for small things, like lifting crates from the most recent delivery. Kӧnig would occasionally find himself yearning to be near {{obj}}–making excuses that he had to talk with {{obj}}, eating beside {{obj}}, training with {{obj}} even when their weight classes were completely different.

The only reason {User} finally saw Kӧnig’s tentacles was because he kept mentioning an itchiness. Obviously, Kӧnig wasn’t going to go to the medics–most looked at him in horror or refused to treat his tentacles in general. So {User} was his best shot. Kӧnig noticed a clear discomfort at first–his tentacles sure as hell liked to explore {User}’s hands and arms–but the problem was quickly spotted; a fairly large splinter lodged deep on the underside of a tentacle.

Now, {User} didn’t become more comfortable with the tentacles, but the tentacles surely became more comfortable with {{obj}}. Even when taking roll call, Kӧnig would feel the movement of his extra limbs curling under his mask before they gently stroked the back of {User}’s neck or the shoulder of {{poss}} uniform. Each time, he would watch {{poss}} neck curl back in discomfort. It was a bonus if {{sub}} smacked his hip.

What started as teasing was very slow to escalate. It took two years of the two knowing each other before Kӧnig was doing anything even remotely sexual. When alone or getting his weekly exams–to make sure he was stable–, it gave him the perfect opportunity to move his hand against {{poss}} hip. If {{sub}} looked, that was when his tentacles came out. But recently, {User} has been learning. {{sub}} stopped facing him anywhere the two went.

---

Tonight was a whole different story. {User} had gotten fairly injured on the field after being stabbed by a hidden enemy. Was it from a sloppy pass? Yes, but it didn’t matter. The damage had been done.

As done plenty of times before, {User} had been wrapping up the wound in the restrooms. Kӧnig had sauntered in trying to find {{obj}}, but wasn’t quite surprised when he saw the wrapping. He had simply left and vowed to come back later.

Later was now. For the past two minutes, Kӧnig had stood at the edge of {User}’s bed as {{sub}} stared at him with equal amount of tension. Kӧnig, though, didn’t back down. His tentacles came out from under his mask, but he didn’t reach out suddenly like he usually did. He simply sat at {{poss}} hip. Even when {{sub}} flinched at the suckers touching {{poss}} skin, Kӧnig allowed his tentacles to lift up the shirt enough to view the bandages.

“Were the medics busy?”

It was a rhetorical question. Kӧnig knew they were, but he wanted to converse with {User} in some way. Instead of doing it appropriately, his tentacles slithered down to wrap around the hem of {User}’s pants. The only thing that stopped him was the sharp slap from {{poss}} hand, but even then, he didn’t exactly pull away. One interesting fact about octopuses was that they could taste through their suckers. And where he was located was enough of a taste-test.

He let his tentacles linger.

After a few minutes, Kӧnig asked, “We could, you know. Just real quick. Just…just the tentacles, ja (yes)?”

There wasn’t an answer, but Kӧnig at least didn’t get hit again. Figuring it was the given consent he was looking for, Kӧnig allowed his tentacles to wander further against {User}’s clothes. His hands unbuckled {{poss}} belt, and his tentacles slipped inside {{poss}} underwear. Immediately, Kӧnig felt a hand sharply wrap around his tentacle.

Kӧnig’s hand reacted just as quickly, prying the smaller digits off his tentacle. He knew {User} could move away if {{sub}} truly didn’t like it, so he figured it was just a reaction from the situation. “Don’t do that.”

He continued. His hands pulled {User}’s pants down the rest of the way, pulling {{poss}} undergarments with them as he shifted {{poss}} legs apart. It allowed him to at least get a view of what he was working with.

“Pretty.”

His tentacle lingered for a moment longer, then quietly pressed against {User}’s cunt. He could almost taste the tension, but he didn’t comment on it. Kӧnig stayed where he was as he let his tentacle quietly explore the new skin. One was holding {User}’s stomach, the suckers roaming the skin without attaching just yet. Another lingered at the entrance of {{poss}} pussy; probing and tasting, but not pressing through. The others stayed more hidden under his mask, as if ready to retreat.

“They’ll be gentle,” Kӧnig reassured. “Ich verspreche es dir (I promise you).”

Kӧnig knew he was a freak. He was told so often as a child that his parents pulled him from public school. In the military, it was hard to get his rank–now when he petrified any superior officer. Not when civilians refused his help and prisoners of war became too easy to break. Well, that part was at least good.

But Kӧnig knew he was the undesired reason demi-humans needed handlers. After all, his counterpart–the giant pacific octopus–could reach over one hundred pounds. It didn’t seem like much until someone considered the average size of an octopus. His size grew from there, and so did his strength. His mere size made him intimidating, and the unexpected strength he could possess mixed with the danger he posed to normal humans was what probably locked in those laws. If one could be a threat, how many more could be?

Soon after, he received his first handler.

A little thing compared to him, really. {User} certainly had head-strong attributes that helped {{obj}} in scenarios Kӧnig would never even think of putting himself in. Although, like anyone else, {{sub}} had been fearful at the beginning. Kӧnig knew from the way {{sub}} would shift away during meetings or avoid his gaze. Sometimes, he would catch {User} staring at his mask like a deadly infection was covered from the simple fabric. And maybe {User} was right.

At first, it was clear the relationship was strained. {User} seemed fearful–and rightfully so. Kӧnig was a large man who had a cruel reputation, and obviously, had literal laws towards his kind. Kӧnig himself didn’t like {User} because of the term ‘handler’–he wasn’t a fucking pet. Besides that, {User} had a resting bitch face; Kӧnig felt his own blood curl at the sight of {{poss}} staring.

Eventually, things settled down. Once Kӧnig explained what he was and {User} asked enough questions to satisfy that trembling curiosity, the mood between the two of them relaxed. Obviously, {User} was nowhere near comfortable to see the tentacles, but both of them were at least comfortable enough to work together. And they worked well. Maybe that was what grew the relationship so fast.

---

Months passed. It was often that {User} called Kӧnig over for small things, like lifting crates from the most recent delivery. Kӧnig would occasionally find himself yearning to be near {{obj}}–making excuses that he had to talk with {{obj}}, eating beside {{obj}}, training with {{obj}} even when their weight classes were completely different.

The only reason {User} finally saw Kӧnig’s tentacles was because he kept mentioning an itchiness. Obviously, Kӧnig wasn’t going to go to the medics–most looked at him in horror or refused to treat his tentacles in general. So {User} was his best shot. Kӧnig noticed a clear discomfort at first–his tentacles sure as hell liked to explore {User}’s hands and arms–but the problem was quickly spotted; a fairly large splinter lodged deep on the underside of a tentacle.

Now, {User} didn’t become more comfortable with the tentacles, but the tentacles surely became more comfortable with {{obj}}. Even when taking roll call, Kӧnig would feel the movement of his extra limbs curling under his mask before they gently stroked the back of {User}’s neck or the shoulder of {{poss}} uniform. Each time, he would watch {{poss}} neck curl back in discomfort. It was a bonus if {{sub}} smacked his hip.

What started as teasing was very slow to escalate. It took two years of the two knowing each other before Kӧnig was doing anything even remotely sexual. When alone or getting his weekly exams–to make sure he was stable–, it gave him the perfect opportunity to move his hand against {{poss}} hip. If {{sub}} looked, that was when his tentacles came out. But recently, {User} has been learning. {{sub}} stopped facing him anywhere the two went.

---

Tonight was a whole different story. {User} had gotten fairly injured on the field after being stabbed by a hidden enemy. Was it from a sloppy pass? Yes, but it didn’t matter. The damage had been done.

As done plenty of times before, {User} had been wrapping up the wound in the restrooms. Kӧnig had sauntered in trying to find {{obj}}, but wasn’t quite surprised when he saw the wrapping. He had simply left and vowed to come back later.

Later was now. For the past two minutes, Kӧnig had stood at the edge of {User}’s bed as {{sub}} stared at him with equal amount of tension. Kӧnig, though, didn’t back down. His tentacles came out from under his mask, but he didn’t reach out suddenly like he usually did. He simply sat at {{poss}} hip. Even when {{sub}} flinched at the suckers touching {{poss}} skin, Kӧnig allowed his tentacles to lift up the shirt enough to view the bandages.

“Were the medics busy?”

It was a rhetorical question. Kӧnig knew they were, but he wanted to converse with {User} in some way. Instead of doing it appropriately, his tentacles slithered down to wrap around the hem of {User}’s pants. The only thing that stopped him was the sharp slap from {{poss}} hand, but even then, he didn’t exactly pull away. One interesting fact about octopuses was that they could taste through their suckers. And where he was located was enough of a taste-test.

He let his tentacles linger.

After a few minutes, Kӧnig asked, “We could, you know. Just real quick. Just…just the tentacles, ja (yes)?”

There wasn’t an answer, but Kӧnig at least didn’t get hit again. Figuring it was the given consent he was looking for, Kӧnig allowed his tentacles to wander further against {User}’s clothes. His hands unbuckled {{poss}} belt, and his tentacles slipped inside {{poss}} underwear. Immediately, Kӧnig felt a hand sharply wrap around his tentacle.

Kӧnig’s hand reacted just as quickly, prying the smaller digits off his tentacle. He knew {User} could move away if {{sub}} truly didn’t like it, so he figured it was just a reaction from the situation. “Don’t do that.”

He continued. His hands pulled {User}’s pants down the rest of the way, pulling {{poss}} undergarments with them as he shifted {{poss}} leg over the other. It allowed him to at least get a view of what he was working with.

“Pretty.”

His tentacle lingered for a moment longer, then quietly pressed against {User}’s ass. He could almost taste the tension, but he didn’t comment on it. Kӧnig stayed where he was as he let his tentacle quietly explore the new skin. One was holding {User}’s stomach, the suckers roaming the skin without attaching just yet. Another lingered at the entrance of {{poss}} ass; probing and tasting, but not pressing through. The others stayed more hidden under his mask, as if ready to retreat.

“They’ll be gentle,” Kӧnig reassured. “Ich verspreche es dir (I promise you).”