Lucio/Zenyatta/Reaper(or anonymous slime monster) – Satyr!Lucio and Zenyatta; rape/rape play; dub con/non-con; tentacle sex; belly bulge – Lúcio and Zenyatta get so much more than they hoped for.

They knew they weren’t allowed to wander this deep into the forest, but the danger has only made it more enticing, and daring each other top hop deeper has been way too easy.

Sooner rather than later they’ve resorted to holding hands and staying close as they make their way through an underbrush too thick to hop any longer. They have to carefully place their small hoofs so their dainty fetters don’t get caught in the insidious vines curling about, but they’re still in good spirits.

The fear they feel is electrifying and keeps them alert, their long ears flicking around to listen to the crack of tree branches and the thump of other inhabitants walking around.

Every now and then Lúcio giggles nervously, pushing himself more into Zenyatta’s shoulder.

“Maybe we should go back now,” he whispers when it becomes clear that the encroaching darkness becomes thicker and thicker. They both have grown up in the forest, but neither can tell whether the darkness comes from the slowly setting sun or the woods themselves.

They’re a bit disappointed. The tales of the elders – meant as a warning but only stirring their nervous desire – have been keeping them on track for the most part. It seems, however, that the others have been wrong: there are no monsters in the deep forest that are just waiting to defile and wreck supple satyr fawns.

They glance at each other, cheeks flushed, and finally Zenyatta stops and sighs.

“Yes. We should go back.” He squeezes Lúcio’s hand: a promise for them to play afterwards and make up for the disappointment – when suddenly the predator that has been following them for a couple hours makes his presence known.

.o.

It’s exactly what they’ve been angling for, but actually being wrapped up in slimy tentacles, no way to escape their slippery, unrelenting halt, is… quite scary.

They bleat at each other in distress, held apart just enough that they can watch but not touch, and the monster that has them in their grasp chuckles.

“What tasty little toys,” it purrs. There are a few mouths and a hundred eyes appearing and disappearing in the black mass that has come out of the underbrush. There are so many sharp teeth, but none of them have nipped at their kicking flanks yet.

“So… juicy…” Black tendrils curl around Lúcio’s thighs – plumper than Zenyatta’s – and pull them apart until Zenyatta can just about see the tender pink of his hole hidden in chocolate brown fur.

They’re manhandled around, dainty fetters restrained and pulled apart at the creature’s leisure who seems very interested in those hidden, warm little spaces beneath their fluffy tails.

Their arms have been twisted against their backs as they are suspended in the air, close enough to feel each other’s breaths on their faces and see their hot, embarrassed flushes as slick tendrils begin pushing into them sleek and without hindrance.

Soon enough they are bleating for whole different reasons: their guts filled with the writhing, undulating mass, holes spread wider than they’ve ever been before as they get rocked in their tethers by the creatures amorous thrusts.

There’s drool slicking from the corner of Zenyatta’s mouth, and Lúcio’s cherry red tongue is lolling against his chin. Their fur is a wet, sticky mess from the monster sliding across every inch of their bodies.

“Ah… p-please… mercy,” Zenyatta whimpers when he feels like there is no way he’ll fit even one more inch inside him. He feels like the creature must have advanced right into his belly. Whenever he looks down, he can see the grotesque bulge there; how he looks like he’s carrying two, if not three little fawns.

It is scary.

And so… *good*…

The creature around them just chuckles. A few mouths appear, grinning wide, then disappear. There are always eyes watching them greedily.

“No more!” Lúcio cries out suddenly, struggling anew. Zenyatta, glancing at him with a feverish stare, can see how new tentacles have started parting the thick fur on his companion’s crotch; showing off his sleek, dark red cock and the tight, furry balls beneath. When the tentacles start caressing him there, Lúcio sobs, helplessly bucking into the touch.

Trying to fuck it.

As Zenyatta stares, he can feel the same happening to him.

They are so desperately, intimately full, they feel like the creature will spill back out of their mouths any second now, and still it is stuffing more and more inside of them, fucking them, bouncing them on itself and ruining their tight little holes with its insane stretch.

They bleat weak and pathetic, a flush of humiliation and lust hot on their cheeks. They come so easy for it, even as they beg for mercy and to be released; creamy little loads coating the thick fur on their thighs; one, two, three until they start sobbing in earnest, feeling like their hearts might explode from the stress.

They like playing with each other; sticking a face beneath the other’s perky tail to lap and suck at him until he comes, purring and soft; doing it again and again until they’re sticky and sated… but they’ve never been this… debauched. This… relentless. They’ve never been *fucked* before; used like warm sleeves and nothing but breeding mares.

It will be long until the black mass shudders and starts pumping them full. Even longer until they can stumble their shameful way back into their home, their bellies still so round with the creature’s load sloshing in their guts…