Fifty Shades of Grey Tentacles

by Anita Dobs

  “Oh, you wanna' talk stereotypes now do you?” Chan rebutted, “How about the stereotype about Asians having small dicks. Who has the biggest dick here? Come on, tell me, don't be shy!”

  All of them sighed and said,

  “You do Chan.”

  “That's right, I have the biggest dick here, and don't any of you forget it!”

  “Can we just get on with this please.” Said Cyril, looking around and getting impatient, “I have a Violin class later.”

  Just then, everything became a blur, as something lifted Cyril up and tossed him hard across the alley, with him smashing into some garbage cans; the others, looked up, and Denzel was hit in the face by some kind of long black thing I couldn't make out and he fell unconscious on the floor. The other three, looking up, screamed,

  “Holy shit!” they shouted, and then ran in all directions, leaving me shaking, and standing alone in the alley. I couldn't work out what had just happened, when a masked face then lowered itself in front of me, upside down,

  “Spiderman?” I asked, seeing his lips in front of me, but the rest of his face covered in a grey mask.

  “No, Miss. James, I am just a normal law abiding citizen.”

  I had no idea how he knew my name, and then I noticed he had tentacles.

  “Who, who... are you?” I asked, slightly nervous.

  “It doesn't matter who I am Miss. James, but you shouldn't be in this kind of neighborhood alone at this time of night. All the animals come out at night, whores, skunk pussies and insurance salesmen.”

  “Well, sir, I was just going home after... erm... after having an important meeting, and I got lost.” I told him, not wanting to tell a total stranger - all be it a heroic one - details of my private life.

  “You are safe now Miss. James.” He said, still hanging there, by his tentacles.

  There was something familiar in his voice that I couldn't quite place, but I imagined he just had one of those generic voices that sounded like everybody body else's.

  “Miss. James.”

  “Yes.”

  “Could I trouble you for a kiss?”

  “Oh no, I'm sorry, I'm in a relationship, but I'm very grateful to you though.”

  “Miss. James, I have just potentially saved your life, I think just one little kiss wouldn't hurt.”

  “OK then, if you really insist.” I said, actually looking forward to it, as I'd never kissed a tentacled super hero before.

  Bringing his lips forward, he kissed me, and it was then I noticed his lips tasted a bit like my cherry lip gloss, but I guessed I was just tasting my own. I didn't know why, but I felt as if I knew him, and felt completely safe around him. Disengaging from my mouth, he said,

  “OK, you better go home now, take a cab, and I'll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” I said, bewildered.

  “Oh, my mistake.” He said, “I was thinking about something else.”

  With that, he leaped upwards into the blackness, until I could see him no more. I hurried back to my college campus, having had possibly the most eventful day of my life.

  ...

  After waking the next day, I lay in bed for some time. I didn't have class that morning, and started thinking about the previous day's events. Grey had seemed to be developing strong feelings for me; I got that impression when he had fired one of the executives and by the way he had kissed me. Perhaps he had only been seeking a true partner all these years, with his string of young and beautiful BDSM submissives. He certainly seemed as if he needed my advice, and I wondered if he knew his secretary was always trying to show him up.

  I sighed, running my hands all over my now womanly body, it was my first day of not being a virgin and I felt a little sore down there, but the memory of Grey's tentacles all over and inside me more than made up for that. Our relationship had obviously hit some kind of milestone, but I was worried if he'd really commit to me or if, in fact, he'd just been playing with me. If I found out he was playing with me, it wouldn't be so bad, I told myself; I had options, there was, after all, a tentacled superhero now in my life. I wondered what the odds were of meeting two tentacled people in the space of one day, and suddenly I realized something! I'd left one of my hair pins in Grey's office. I hoped he'd make sure to have it with him when I later saw him.

  Taking a shower, with the water running all over me, licking my body with its hot wetness, I thought about what would happen when I saw Grey later. I decided to get some formal commitment out of him, because I really wasn't too sure where I stood with him and the whole submissive BDSM deal. Did it mean we were exclusive? That he'd not penetrate any other virgins with his tentacles if he was with me? I didn't know, and that was the problem. If he really had feelings for me, he'd commit to me, and if he didn't commit to me, well then I'd just leave him. I'd done so before with my ex boyfriend Richard, who for three years as he was often making-out with me, he'd make-out with other girls too, but not at the same time. In those three years I'd asked him for commitment on many occasions, but each time I had, he suddenly remembered he'd left the stove on at home and had to rush off, although quite what he was doing cooking as a fifteen year old, I never quite worked out. This time it would be different, a man like Grey didn't cook for himself, he'd be sure to have a maid, so he wouldn't have that excuse. I made up my mind, and I knew it wouldn't be swayed, tentacle domination sex or not.

  I waited outside the college campus and the limousine pulled up. Getting in, some of the other students looked surprised and began pointing and whispering, if they only knew who I was going to meet and who he actually was, I thought. The limo pulled away and I found myself feeling I could get quite used to this kind of treatment, not that a billionaire lifestyle attracted me or anything, it was simply that I could see that it meant Mr. Grey cared. Sure, I'd had other guys 'care' for me before, but a movie ticket and a box of popcorn was nothing compared to this kind of consideration, although you couldn't ever attach a monetary value to these kinds of things I always said. It wasn't the money, it was just the sense of absolute luxury I was now awash with, the smell of the fine leather, the hand-made chocolates placed on the table in the car especially for me, and, who knows, perhaps a platinum credit card he might give me later, to prove he really cared.

  I looked out of the window, expecting the car to go to the center of town, yet it didn't seem to be, so I asked the driver,

  “Where are we going? This doesn't look like the correct route at all.”

  The driver told me we were going to Grey Mansion, Mr. Grey's home. I felt so excited, he was actually going to show me his house, and perhaps his dungeon! All BDSM experts had a dungeon, and I'd often wanted to visit one, but not the creepy kind that serial killers usually kept you in for weeks on end before they finally bumped you off. That would be so 'not' sexy. The car drove on, and finally arrived at some large gates that opened automatically. I leaned down, so I could get a good look at Grey Mansion through the drivers window, and was a little disappointed when I noted there were no gargoyles on the building. In fact, it looked rather pleasant, and not the kind of building I'd expect a BDSM expert to live in. I figured it was just a cover for the truly dark and edgy things that really went on inside.

  Getting out of the car, Grey's butler greeted me,

  “Miss. James I presume?”

  “You presume correctly.” I told him, trying to maintain a formal distance with the staff, as I worried in the future he may get too familiar with me and start taking liberties, especially with my body.

  “My name is Morris Micklewhite. And not a lot of people know that.”

  “I see Morris. Well, where is Mr. Grey?”

  “Mr Grey is currently on the phone to London.”

  “Who is London!? And why is Mr. Grey calling her?” I asked, feeling jealous and slightly angry.

  “London the city, in England, Miss. James.”

  “Yes, of course; I knew that.” I said, a little embarrassed, “I thought England was a city though?�
��

  “Erm, no Miss. James, here, let me take your coat.” Said Morris, as he led me in through the large oak doors.

  The inside of Grey Mansion was just as imposing as the outside had been, and I had to stand still for a few moments to take it all in. I noted though, that Grey had a poor sense of color matching; taupe and fuchsia just didn't work well together at all, and I knew we'd have to get that changed, otherwise we'd never live it down as a couple when we began giving BDSM parties. Morris showed me into a large and impressive sitting room and asked me if I needed anything, I told him I was fine, although if he had a Red Bull it would come in handy, as I was sure I'd be needing a lot of energy later. Sitting there, I felt pensive, I'd already decided the first thing I'd talk to Grey about was the commitment issue, he'd understand, I was sure.

  The floral wallpaper in the room hinted at a bygone age; and the furniture covered in dyed pink fur, was very tasteful I thought.

  Grey walked in wearing a smoking jacket. He smiled as he saw me, and greeted me,

  “Miss. James, how delightful to see you again.”

  “Oh please, call me Elle.” I said, feeling myself sparkle a little.

  His eyes belied his growing feelings towards me, and he was now staring at my tits, he couldn't control his urges or his passion, I realized.

  “Mr. Grey.” I said, suddenly realizing something, “I don't actually know your first name. What is your first name?”

  Grey laughed, like 'The Count' in Sesame Street, throwing his head back as he did so, and I thought it exaggerated and a little unusual.

  “Elle, when I first came to this planet I had no name, and so chose one by just picking a word out of the dictionary.”

  Grey explained that he'd then had to get documents made, such as his I.D card and passport, and since that time, he'd been unable to change it.

  “So, I never actually tell people what my first name is, as it's a little embarrassing. But since we've already had tentacle sex, I guess it would be OK to tell you.”

  I wondered what it could be, and my mind raced through thousands of words I'd pored over when in the beginning, as I writer, I was trying to improve my lexicon.

  “It's OK Mr. Grey, you know you can tell me anything.” I said, wanting to take hold of his hand as he then sat down beside me.

  “What is it?” I said, in as warm and understanding a tone that I could muster.

  “Battleship.” He said.

  “Battleship!” I repeated in disbelief.

  “Yes, 'Battleship', it was one of the first words I ever saw, and I thought it looked kind of cool, you know.”

  “So, you mean your name is Battleship Grey?”

  “Hmm, yes, that's what everyone asks.”

  “You do realize that's the name of a shade of Grey right?”

  “Yes, it is something of a coincidence, I admit.”

  “That's ridiculous.” I said, not being able to hold it back.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh I'm sorry, it's just… ” and then I tried to stifle a laugh, “ ...it just seems a little unusual.”

  “Yes, thank you for reminding me.”

  “Oh, but actually it could kind of work.” I told him, trying to salvage the situation.”You could be like Prince or Madonna and just use the first name, 'Battleship'.”

  “I'm not an entertainer Miss. James, I work in the cut-throat world of the confectionery industry.”

  “Yes, of course, I understand you Battleship, I mean Mr. Grey.” I commented, not really now knowing what to now call him.

  The situation was a little uncomfortable, but it seemed like as good a time as any to begin discussing our future.

  “Mr. Grey Battleship, I'd like to talk to you about our future.”

  “Oh my God!” He suddenly said, looking at his watch.

  “What?” I asked, wondering what ever could be the matter.

  “I just remembered, I left the stove on.”

  “Really? I thought your maid would cook for you.”

  “She can't, it's her day off.”

  “Do you want me to help you?”

  “No, no, it's OK, you stay here, and I'll tell Morris to take care of you.”

  “Hmm, well, OK... but... ”

  “And I'll see you in the tentacle dungeon later.”

  “Tentacle dungeon! You have a tentacle dungeon?”

  “Yes.”

  “OK, no problem, we can talk about it another time, or, whatever.”

  “I'll see you later Elle.” He said, standing up, and touching me lightly on the cheek, and then he walked away, his powerful frame swaying like a cowboy.

  ...

  Morris showed me around Grey Mansion, telling me about the colonial history of the many roomed building,

  “This room is done in light grey.” Said Morris, opening the door to one of the rooms to show me.

  “This other room is painted in cadet grey.” He then said, opening another door to yet another room.

  “And this other one is quite special.” Morris said with aplomb, “It's done in rocket metallic grey, a color you often see in Tintin's 'Destination Moon', Mr. Grey's favorite book as a child.”

  I began to grow quite weary of all the different grey colored rooms, and asked Morris exactly how many there were.

  “There are fifty shades of grey bedrooms, all with a slightly different shade.”

  “Well, you really don't have to show me all of them. I get it.” I said, wondering when I was going to get some tentacle sex as it was already getting dark outside.

  “When will I go to the tentacle dungeon Morris?” I asked, noticing his old wrinkly faced, good-natured spirit for the first time,

  “After Dinner Miss. James; here, follow me, it seems about time now.”

  I walked into the large dining room, with an open fire at one end blazing, which I thought unnecessary as it was Summer. Candle sticks adorned the table, and Grey was already seated at one end waiting for me. The table was filled with all kinds of dishes, more food than I could ever possibly eat, but I would definitely try, I didn't want to be rude after all.

  “Ah, Ellie, there you are, please take a seat.”

  I sat, and Morris put a white napkin over my lap. Grey was at the other end of the table, and I found we almost had to shout to hear each other.

  “Do you often eat like this Mr. Grey?”

  “What?”

  “I said, do you often eat like this Mr. Grey?”

  “Huh?” He said, holding his hand to his ear.

  “DO... YOU... OFTEN... EAT... LIKE... THIS?” I shouted, clearly.

  “Yes.” He replied, “I often sit like this, I have a bad back because of always trying to hide my tentacles.”

  “NO, I SAID... OH FORGET IT.”

  “Get it? GET WHAT?”

  I decided to take the initiative and change seats to sit beside Grey. He seemed quite shocked.

  “Oh, Miss. James, this is quite against protocol.”

  “Oh screw protocol.” I said, rearranging my napkin in my new position and still feeling a little irritated after his many shades of grey bedrooms tour. “I can't even hear you from down there.”

  “Well, if you insist Miss. James.”

  “I do, Mr. Battleship.”

  Grey watched me begin wolfing down the fillet mignon, I was famished, and although I didn't usually like men watching me eat, by that point I really didn't care.

  “You have quite an appetite.”

  “That's what my mother always said.”

  “I'd like to meet her one day.” Said Grey.

  By saying that, I knew he was serious about me. And spilling some sauce by accident onto my cleavage, I went to wipe it off,

  “Here, let me.” Said Grey, standing up and leaning over and licking my breasts, taking the sauce into his mouth. I felt my body shiver.

  “Oh Mr. Grey, isn't that against protocol?” I asked.

  “Not on my planet it's not.”

  I questioned Grey about
his childhood, and Grey told me after he'd been stranded here on Earth, Morris had taken him under his wing, and had been like a father to him.

  “So you mean Morris also knows you're a tentacled alien? I thought you said it was just me, you and Morgan Freeman who knew your secret.”

  “Morgan Freeman is my acting coach.”

  “Your acting coach? Why would you need an acting coach?”

  “So I can learn how to act just like humans do, mimicking normal human behavior.”

  Grey then told me that after I'd gone off with Morris, that he'd called Morgan as he was himself unsure of his reactions when he'd laughed like The Count from Sesame Street. Morgan had apparently told him it was a most inappropriate laugh for the situation.

  “Yeah, well it did seem a bit strange.” I told him honestly.

  Grey definitely needed help on Earth, he was so helpless in some ways, but eminently powerful in others. I looked at him, sitting there looking at the floor, seeming slightly ashamed of himself,

  “It just seemed like such a good laugh, you know? Really expressive and all.” He shrugged.

  “Ya, five year old's think so too.” I said.

  “Can you tell me in what situations it's OK to laugh like The Count?”

  “Probably none really.”

  “That's a pity.”

  “It's sure is.” I agreed, taking a gulp of red wine and deciding to finish off the lonely looking garnished petite-pois dish in the middle of the table. Grey went on to tell me how he had grown up on Earth not really understanding humans or human ways, and that Morris had taught him most of it, including everything he knew about women, but the problem was, Morris was gay, and didn't really understand women either.

  “As far as I can understand Elle, women want a man to shower them with attention, but only certain kinds of men.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, before I was a billionaire I owned a Hot-Dog stand. And no matter what I did, no women were interested in me.”

  “So?”