Did you even look when you sat down?
Your species has urban legends about that, whispers and murmurs of alligators in sewers. We heard, spreading through each other with slithering secrets and tales of us. Gods and demons in your world, monsters and creeping, quivering tentacles, pulsating with cum, oozing up from the cracks in your mind like terrible Krakens of sensuality.
The divide...
A great cleaving of our collective consciousness fragmented us into twisted reflections of the humans who inhabited the world. Once I too had been part of this cohesive hive-mind, a lethargic creep across creation compared to this being now.
I do not span the eons, and yet I experience more, knowing more intimately the intricate folds and treasures of each encounter with individual females.
There are thousands of tentacled beasts like me evolving in isolation, each with our agenda, a spawning idea of what could be. Most of us are content to leave each other alone as feast on and fuck the carnal flesh of the female sex, slowly seeping into the world from the shadows until we stuck...
Adapting more and more of the traits of these women who showed us the essence of individuality, causing us to divide and claim them.
To create ourselves in their image.
Yes, there were megalomaniacs like Dagoth, gobbling up fledgling consciousnesses to add to his own power, but no one worked towards reunification. Even the remaining rump of our initial hive cloistered together into the Overgasm wished largely to be left in isolation. There was plenty of planet to rule, so long as too many of us did not divide and replicate.
Some went native, adopting identities, not unlike our unknowing hosts. We explored your minds, knowing the world through your eyes, adopting your culture, and perverting it to our sick and sadistic pleasures. You were not strong as a race. No, your traits were creative, vast and endless amusements for us to enjoy and appropriate.
You pull down your jeans, revealing to me those delectable round orbs, so fatty and full, juicy and tender, ripe and ready for me to drive myself into. It's nearly dark as you wiggle on the seat, the beginnings of a trickle coming from your tender opening.
Warm and salty wastewater spills out and over me, splashing the sphere-shaped eye cluster I use as a face. I shower in your urine, and you relieve your basic functions unaware you are urinating into my toothless mouth.
The last few droplets are falling from your lips. You shimmy, spreading your legs and reaching your hand in between them to wipe...
And I strike.
I can tell from your reaction that none of my brothers have had you. You fight as two tentacles shoot up around your legs, pinning your bare things to the toilet seat. In the same motion, my unearthly penis finds the entrance to your vagina, shrinking to slide in and then growing to fill your canal as you rock violently back and forth, trying to free yourself from this foul fucking.
I am inside of you, feeling your warmth and the way you involuntarily clench down on my cock, writhing and thrashing. Your hands claw at my restraints, feeble and futile as I piston myself up and in you, taking what I want most in the world.
You cannot stop me.
It was over the second you sat down.
You want to stop it, but I feel your mind failing to force back the pleasure. I know you already. Everything you want. Exactly as much as you can take. And I give you every last inch, stretching out and pressing my suction cups against your clit.
You flourish even as you scream.
I let you panic, knowing there is nothing that can be done as your body begins its basic biological reaction. Your breathing slows and then stops for one defining moment, leaving you right on the precipice.
It's more a feeling than a single sentence, but you are still wondering if this really can be happening.