The house is completely dark.

Actually kind of unnaturally dark?

...Huh. 

She makes her way inside, groping for the stairs.

There's light, but it's like every window is the end of a long dark tunnel. Walls and furniture are reduced to vague shapes.

And there's... too many... stairs?

They're supposed to go up and turn and then go up again and then you're done. Instead, at that point, there turn out to be more stairs.

...What???

She chalks it up to her exhaustion and keeps climbing.

Another turn.

And another.

And another.

...

Maybe this is a dream. 

She stops climbing and sits down.

For a minute nothing interesting happens, and then she floats into the air and rises up through the center of the endless stairwell. The light gets brighter and the stairs get weirder as she ascends. Neat right-angle turns give way to a smooth spiral, without landings, twirling upward into the distance.

There's a man standing at the top, leaning over the railing. It's bright enough up here that she can see his smile, although only barely. It is not a very reassuring smile.

She drifts to a halt, her face now level with his.

"What a weird dream."

"Sorry, guess again," he says. "I usually try to introduce the whole magic thing a little slower, but you took a while getting home and I got bored and messed up your stairs."

"That seems unlikely. 'Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence,'" she quotes.

He shrugs. "I mean, you can think you're dreaming if you want, I can't stop you. You'll figure it out eventually. Or just go through the rest of your life thinking this weekend was a bad dream, I guess."

...She snorts. "This isn't what my bad dreams look like."

"Give it time. Or are you one of those people with really unimaginative dreams?"

"My bad dreams don't have to be imaginative."

"Well then I guess this isn't one. Or you're branching out."

"If this isn't a dream, what is it?"

"A home invasion?"

"Why?"

"... Do you really not have a guess?"

"...Why me?"

Shrug. "Why not? You're who happened to catch my eye, that's all."

"Fine."

"Gotta say, that's not the usual reaction, even before I start setting people on fire."

"If you can do this," she waves at the stairs, "then I can hardly stop you. So let's get it over with."

He shrugs. "Eh, fair enough," he says, and she floats toward him as he reaches for her, his fingernails lengthening into razor-sharp claws with which he proceeds to start tearing her clothes off. He isn't particularly careful about how much damage he does to her skin in the process.

She takes it without a sound, only the tiniest of flinches marking the pain.

He makes a thoughtful sound, tosses the last few scraps of bloodstained fabric down the nightmare stairwell, and then turns her around in the air and rakes his claws down her spine.

She takes a sharp, hissing breath, but does not cry out.

Tough customer, huh.

He bites the back of her neck with teeth grown into fangs, then spins her around again and does the same to her breasts, digging his claws into her lower back for leverage.

She lets out a brief shriek, then claps her hands over her mouth in terror.

"That's more like it!" he says cheerfully, and bites her some more. There's getting to be a lot of blood; it's dripping onto the railing and down the railing onto the floor and off the floor into the stairwell.

She presses her hands harder against her mouth.

He extracts his claws from her back, with an unpleasant noise and a gush of blood, and wraps his hands around her thighs to hold her up to his face so he can get his mouth on her crotch.

And—doesn't bite her there. Yet.

In fact, considered strictly on its sensory merits devoid of context, this part's actually quite nice.

???

Despite her hands still on her mouth, she squeaks in startlement.

He snickers, and continues doing what he's doing.

Pain she knows how to handle. This, not so much. 

She makes a lot of noises.

He seems to be entirely delighted by all of her noises, and eager to hear more.

And eventually, with a stifled moan, she comes against his mouth.

Mmmmm.

He wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles her blood-streaked stomach, then slides a hand between her legs to finger her while he goes back to making a mess of her chest with his teeth.

She makes a handful of choked noises, then gasps, "Okay."

He removes his mouth from her breast to ask, "What was that?"

"I believe you that it's not a dream now."

"Heh. Told you."

And back to making her bleed.

She makes a handful of very conflicted noises.

He snickers again, dipping his tongue into her numerous open wounds.

She flinches, letting out half of a shriek before she strangles the rest of it in her throat.

Oh, fun!

This is a much less pleasant place for him to put his tongue, but he applies himself to it with just as much attention and enthusiasm.

She puts her hands over her mouth again.

He keeps this up for a while, fingering her and biting her and licking the wounds he makes.

Then he pauses, and lets go of her long enough to unfasten his pants, and pulls her down onto his—

—tentacle?

It explores her in a way very reminiscent of his tongue. Except much, much bigger.

What???

This is extremely concerning. ...Also hot.

His tentacle-dick wriggles its way inside her, twisting and squirming and coiling. He bites her shoulder and shoves his tongue into the wound, humming happily under his breath.

...The pain is kind of distracting but ohhhhhhhh that feels good. She forgets to restrain her whimpers again.

He laughs softly and bites her again.

The tentacle seems to be... growing.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnn."

It's definitely growing. Pretty fast, too. He settles into a rhythm with more thrusting and less squirming as the increased thickness makes it less flexible. Pretty soon it's big enough to hurt, and he's kissing the side of her neck and making happy noises.

She makes noises and clings to him.

They're very good noises. He appreciates her noises so much. And her clinging. It's cute.

The appendage formerly known as Tentacle is now rigid and enormous, but there's still some pleasure available amid the pain, particularly if she likes the things his tongue is doing to her neck. Or is into feeling like she's being fucked by one of those titanic novelty dildos that gets photographed dwarfing a Coke can for scale.

She liked it better when it was a tentacle but she does really like the things his tongue is doing to her neck.

Very good with his tongue, this guy.

He comes inside her, panting, and holds her still for a moment to catch his breath before he pulls her off him.

"You're pretty great," he remarks, idly dragging his claws down her back.

"...Then why are you hurting me?"

"Cause hurting people is fun?"

"It is?"

"Mmhmm!" he chirps, nuzzling her jaw.

"Okay."

...Please don't hit me."

"Sure," he says agreeably.

"Thank you," she says, relieved.

He chuckles softly and bites her collarbone. His teeth scrape bone.

"Ow!"

He makes a sound that is somehow the vocalization of a shrug, digs clawed fingers into her shoulders, and licks her bleeding collarbone with a tongue that is getting steadily warmer. After a few seconds, it's hot enough to leave painful burns, and a faint glow escapes his mouth every time he moves from one spot to another. Her skin reddens in his wake, not quite to the point of blisters but uncomfortably close.

She seems to have quit restraining herself from making pained noises.

Oh good! He's so glad!

He covers her chest and stomach in burning kisses, getting hotter as he goes. It's not clear whether he has a particular destination in mind... but it's pretty clear where he'd be headed if he did.

!!!

She locks her ankles together.

He snickers.

She presses her legs more tightly together.

"It's gonna get way worse than that before I'm done with you," he assures her, and his teeth scrape across her ribs while his hands pry her legs apart. He's alarmingly strong.

She kicks him.

He laughs. His tongue lengthens, glowing like red-hot iron, and spills out of his mouth in fiery coils that make her skin hiss and blister on contact.

She kicks him harder.

This does not seem to affect him in any noticeable way, except that he thinks it's funny.

His burning tongue wraps all the way around her upper thigh and squeezes. It hurts a lot.

She screams and thrashes and makes a blatantly-futile attempt to dislodge his tongue.

Predictably, it doesn't work!

After a few seconds, his tongue unwraps itself, and coils up between her legs to enter her. That hurts even more.

She shrieks and thrashes harder, attempting to kick him away.

Kicking him doesn't do her any good at all; not only does it not hurt him, but it seems like no matter how much leverage she achieves, she can't actually move away from the point in the air where his magic is anchoring her.

He's definitely having a lot of fun tongue-fucking her full of blisters.

She starts sobbing and grabs his hair and tries to either get his head away from her or yank his scalp bloody.

She can actually pull out some of his hair, if she really tries.

It regrows while she watches. Meanwhile, he's still doing awful things to her with his tongue.

If she can't do anything else she is going to pull out all of the fucking hair.

After the second handful he reaches up distractedly and breaks her wrist.

Turns out she has experience operating a hand with a broken wrist.

Huh.

He crushes the hand. Joints and bones snap and splinter.

Scream time.

Scream time is his favourite time!

He turns his attention back to what he's doing with his tongue.

Eventually it turns out she has another hand.

Oh, does she?

He can fix that.

After the relevant round of screaming she attempts and fails to bend far enough forward to get a grip on his hair with her teeth.

He retracts his tongue and moves his face away from her crotch to remark, "You're awfully persistent."

She is too busy taking gulps of air in relief from the pain to respond.

"Seriously though, what's your plan here? Weren't you asking me for a favour five minutes ago?"

"I--you--you didn't mind when I cried. And I wasn't doing real damage."

...he considers this, then shrugs.

"Eh, fair enough," he says. "Not like I can say I didn't bring it on myself."

"I'm sorry."

He chuckles. "'S all right."

A drop of blood runs down her inner thigh from a previous encounter with his claws; he licks it with his blistering tongue.

This startles a pained shriek out of her!

He giggles. And bites the fresh burn.

She whines and reflexively attempts to jerk her leg away.

He hums cheerfully.

There are so many places on her body where he could put his mouth! And not nearly enough of them are burned or bleeding yet!

It does not take long before she's sobbing helplessly. 

He pauses long enough to tell her, "I like it when you cry."

Then back to the torture.

...She starts crying harder, her body wracked by the sobs. 

She clings to him, as much as she can from their respective positions.

He makes a sort of pleased humming/chirping noise and kisses his way up her leg from her knee to the crease of her hip, his mouth cooling off as he goes, so that by the time he reaches her groin the touch of his lips barely hurts at all.

She probably should still be badly enough burned that there's nothing but pain to be found here, but maybe he's cheating with magic, because in fact he and his shapeshifting tongue are coming up with a bountiful harvest of pleasure.

"Oh--oh--oh--"

Mmmm what good noises she makes.

"Your tongue is really great when it's not on fire!"

Well now he's just giggling helplessly into her crotch.

She whines and squirms.

As soon as he manages to stop laughing and catch his breath, he goes right back to the fun stuff.

Oh good.

Mmmm she's tasty.

(And the pain of assorted injuries is slowly, slowly fading from the rest of her body, healing at an unnatural rate.)

Even better!

She puts the ruined remains of her hands on his head in an encouraging manner.

Awwwwww. That's cute. She's cute. He gives her hips a friendly squeeze, which she might not appreciate because they're still lightly burned and also he uses his claws a little.

"Ow!"

He giggles briefly, and then focuses his attention back on the task at hand. At... face. Whatever.

It takes her longer to come than it would have if he hadn't clawed her hips, but not that much longer.

He gives her an affectionate nuzzle, then glances down at the floor, which has collected an enormous puddle of blood that's steadily dripping down the stairs.

"Why do I never get around to doing something about the mess until after there already is one?" he wonders rhetorically, and gives her a nudge that sends her floating into the middle of the space above the stairs. He takes off his clothes and tosses them through the open door of her bedroom, then hops over the railing and floats over to join her in midair.

The world comes apart around them.

It's almost like the whole stairwell is turning inside out and upside down. The walls ripple; the ceiling fragments like a kaleidoscope. Things shuffle around in ways they ought not to be able to shuffle.

...Trippy.

He grins at her as the nightmare stairwell settles into its new configuration. They're still hovering in midair over the center of the stairwell, but now instead of falling away straight down below them, it starts out straight and then curves away like the trail of accumulated reflections between a pair of mirrors. And, in keeping with that comparison, it does the same exact thing above them—except that the direction of the stairs isn't flipped. They're just floating in the middle of an infinite slightly bendy stair tube. And the symmetry of the repetition is broken by the fact that their particular turn of the stairs is lined with oddly shaped fragments of window that let in a bit of light without allowing for much of a view, while the stairs above and below are shrouded in darkness.

"There," he says, "now when you bleed it'll just fall down the Forever Stairs without ever reaching your house."

"Thanks, I guess."

He laughs, and pulls her closer, and this time his whole body flares with heat. The faint silhouettes of bones are visible, glowing brighter than the flesh around them. It's not quite hot enough to raise blisters on contact, but it's definitely enough to leave painful red marks.

Alarmed whimpering!

Tentacle dick!

...That will result in some intensely mixed feelings, and appropriate accompanying noises.

Oooh what lovely noises.

He holds her in his scalding-hot arms, kisses her neck with scalding-hot lips, and fucks her with his scalding-hot tentacle dick.

"Ow, ow, ow..." she grits out, squirming.

He laughs and digs his claws into her hips. Rivulets of blood run down her thighs.

"Hot ow"

"Mmhmm!" Squeeze. "I like the way you squirm. It's cute."

"I like your tentacle dick when it's a reasonable temperature!"

"Oh, do you? Good to know." It wriggles inside her. "'Course, you haven't seen everything it can do yet."

"Does it do them at human body temperature?"

"Optionally."

"Mngh."

He laughs, and hugs her closer, dragging his claws down her back. Blood drips off her and down into the indefinite reaches of the Forever Stairs. His temperature remains unreasonable.

"Hot," she whines uncomfortably.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet."

He kisses her neck and fucks her harder, digging his claws into her thighs to hold her in place.

Mixed-feelings-whimper.

It's a very good whimper. He appreciates it very much.

"I'll show you the thing if you want," he offers. "I'll even cool off for it. Can't promise you won't regret asking, though."

"I'll take that chance."

"All right," he says, and he returns to a temperature in the normal human range. The glow fades at the same time.

His tentacle-dick slides deep inside her, as deep as it will go, and then...

...bites her?

It didn't have teeth before, at least not visibly, but it certainly does now, a ring of sharp points latching firmly onto her cervix. And if those are teeth then what follows can presumably be called a tongue, seeking out the opening and forcing itself inside.

She clenches and moans when he returns to a comfortable temperature, then shrieks when he bites her.

Oh that's a really good sound. He digs his claws a little deeper, shivering happily.

As much as the initial bite hurt, the subsequent miniature tentacle-fuck turns out to be significantly worse.

It's weird and painful and uncomfortable but now that her vagina itself isn't in pain she can pay attention to that. She clenches again and whimpers.

And there is definitely still a squirming tentacle-dick in there, although now it's anchored in place at the far end so the character of the squirming is a little different.

He certainly seems to be really really into it. Every thrust of the miniature tentacle is accompanied by a soft sound of pleasure.

She clutches his shoulders and sobs.

He's not too distracted to spare a grin for that.

Her legs go around his waist and she makes a choked whining noise.

"Niiice," he breathes. "You make the best noises."

"Th-thanks."

He hums—nuzzles the side of her neck—nips with his fangs and draws a little blood, then licks it.

She whines and throws her arms around his neck and buries her face against it.

Hum; nuzzle. Further painful goings-on in the tentacle region.

Further clinging and whimpering!

This goes on for a while before he comes.

That is a whole new level of unpleasantness. The tentacle fucking her womb expands painfully, and delivers such a volume of fluid that her abdomen visibly swells to accommodate it, which if anything hurts even more.

"Ow," she hisses, and shifts uncomfortably, feeling the swell of her abdomen. "How much did you put in there?"

"A lot," he says cheerfully.

"Still better than the heat."

"Huh," he says. "Most people hate this one way more." Shrug. "No accounting for taste, I guess."

"...It hurt, and I didn't like that, but it was also hot. The heat one wasn't hot. Pun not intended."

...he cracks up.

...She giggles.

He grins at her. "You're fun."

"Thanks. You're...weirdly nice."

He shrugs. "I get off on hurting people but, like, mostly not on the part where they're upset about it?"

She nods and shifts again, feeling the distension of her abdomen. "How badly do I have to worry about getting pregnant?"

"Not even a little bit. I really do not want kids, and I'd have to flip that switch on purpose if I changed my mind, 's a magic thing."

"Oh, good."