A 221B drabble per day (whether it’s a Sherlockian fandom or not), drawn from the
kinktober kink list!Masterlist under the cut after today's drabble!
Day 13: 13.
Medical play | Rimming |
Titfucking + TENTACLES brought over from the Day 12 list!!
This is a
double 221B drabble, set in the same universe as
After Me, the Deluge and
Filled Afresh With Each Flow (the Johnlockary stories where Mary has tentacles). I threatened to write this very tale during the
Everybudders discussion on Three Patch Podcast. I always try to keep my threats.
A Lady’s Enhancements (Sherlock, Mary Watson/Mrs. Hudson)Mary was already down the stairs and into 221A when she realised her mistake. Hudders was deep into her herbal soothers on her sofa, her demure purple dress hitched up high enough that Mary could see … oh God.
The older woman just laughed. “Oh Mary. Did you think I don’t know what it’s like? All you young folk think these…advances…are beyond the old folks’ ken. Mine aren’t as state-of-the art as yours, I’m sure.” Between her thighs, a cluster of squid-like tentacles writhed slowly. “I know Sherlock went YouTubing for my dancing days. He didn’t tell you what he saw, even with what you three get up to?” Mrs. Hudson clucked sadly. “They do ache though.”
“Oh,” said Mary, feeling the tell-tale twitch in her back that forewarned a release of her own. “Can I help? I am a nurse, after all.”
Mrs. Hudson hmmphed. “Yes, just like I’m a landlady.”
Mary felt the pressure build, and disrobed to save her blouse. Mrs. Hudson’s tentacles were pink and growing darker as she gazed on them, wriggling eagerly as Mary’s own unfolded from her back, thick and grey and balanced like a spider’s legs.
“Oh, they did such a great job on you, my dear. Pity mine are cerise, I’m told that drains me. You’re suited to that slate blue.”
*
“Let me examine you, then.”
Mrs Hudson was rising up slowly, legs opening, her own appendages thickening and stretching. Mary’s enhancements had been made as weapons - only now, safe in the knowledge that John and Sherlock knew and accepted them, had Mary fully grasped how they could be tamed and soothed by sex as a superior substitute to murder.
Mrs Hudson was increasingly attractive; so much more to her than met the eye. Mary bent down, stretching herself over the older woman as her tentacle tips engaged the smaller, pinker mass, those clever sensitive finger-like tendrils reaching out with their sucker undersides. “All seems well,” Mary whispered huskily as their tentacles met and entangled, and two of Mrs Hudson’s reached out and pulled Mary down, pressing her face to Mrs Hudson’s belly as the pink tentacles danced between Mary’s breasts, slick and pinching and pulsing.
Her own blue appendages pushed tips into the soft snakelike mass, and Mrs Hudson cried out in pleasure. Mary kept them moving slowly, as Mary’s hands pushed them together and she slowly struggled to surge her way up Mrs Hudson’s body for a kiss - the one last normal wet probe of her tongue into the taste of weed and tea and seawater - and brought up another one of her own to thrust in Mrs Hudson’s bosom.
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