The scariest fishman in the sea was known as the Tattletale Strangler, and yet, Spongebob trusted him. Which was stupid, but the poor sponge didn’t know a damn thing. He didn’t know he was going to be used by a large, muscular fish. His mind was too innocent and fixed on making friends rather than enemies.

But that wasn’t the case after the sun went down.

In the lounge of Spongebob’s pineapple house, the lights were turned off and now it was dark inside. Too dark to see. A deep, unpleasant gulp could be heard from the sponge at the time he heard the other male’s trousers unzip.

An echo occurred in the atmosphere as soon as that zip was pulled south.

“B-bodyguard, I don’t ... th-think this was part of the deal...”

The Strangler’s large shadow gradually cascaded over the sponge’s crouching form. Spongebob had shaky knees, and his knees wound up buckling after a minute of watching the tall, large brute. Spongebob whined with little squeaks in his voice. Those large, innocent cyan eyes watched the Strangler’s every move, and the burly fishman was inching closer without any delay.

Two large hands came forward and grabbed the sponge’s head, soon lifting him up with ease. Eye contact was now level with each other. The sponge’s thumbs started to fumble together with uncertainty, and his voice quivered.

“U-um ... you have lovely eyes ... b ... bodyguard...”

A low, deep snicker rumbled in the Strangler’s throat. He still had that fake brunette mustache stuck to his face, and of course Spongebob was too dumb and easily convinced to think it was someone else other than his worst nightmare. The Strangler’s fingers twitched during the time he was holding that soft, yellow sponge. All kinds of cruel ideas floated through his mind.

“Shut up, bitch,” replied the Strangler in a gritty, grumpy voice.

“A ... WHAT?! Hecking gosh! Who’re you calling a bitch? I’m nothing of the kind, sir!” Spongebob answered as he pressed both hands onto his chest to feel his rapid heartbeat, “I’m a sweet, humble sponge! You’ve obviously mistaken me for somebody else!”

A rather annoyed sigh escaped the Strangler’s mouth.

“Nope, I’m talking about you, Spongebob. You’re the bitch.”

Hands on his hips, Spongebob pouted. His eyebrows furrowed. A ‘hmph’ followed. At this point, Spongebob either forgot or didn’t care about being held in midair.

“How DARE you call me such a disgusting word, Mr. Bodyguard! How would you like it if I called my best friend Squidward to come and teach you some manners, hm?”

“Uh ... I really wonder how you have to be so flamboyant about everything...”

“Oh, nu-uh! I’m actually being very reasonable here!”

That very statement was rewarded with an eye roll.

“Whatever, bitch.”

“Oh, SQUIDW--”

Abruptly, Spongebob’s sudden call for Squidward was interrupted by the Strangler shoving his waiting cock right into the sponge’s obnoxiously high-pitched trap. Clearly, the sponge was too weak and feeble to be able to push the jock off him, judging by the hands that tried to smack at the scary fishman’s chest. The Strangler pushed his hips forward, now having his manhood sink half-way into the sponge’s mouth. As soon as his groin met Spongebob’s chin, that’s when Spongebob stopped smacking his hands around and gripped onto the Strangler’s t-shirt instead.

Gagging could be heard from the sponge’s throat. Those were clamorous, profound gags. Spongebob’s eyes watered with tears, and those tears just streamed down his face like a sewer pipe’s river. His pointy nose sprung upward with the upside resting on the Strangler’s abdomen.

From yellow and then blue, the poor sponge was losing oxygen from the dick buried deep in his gullet.

But then the Strangler’s hips swung back, and then later pushed forward again. The sponge’s saliva embraced the thick meat, coating it.

“Now, Spongebob-”

Pulling out, the Strangler smacked his length around the sponge’s face, and this was a harsh smack that left a mark on Spongebob’s cheek.

“HEY!” Spongebob whined and placed his hand onto his blemished cheek, “I don’t know what to say, bodyguard. That thing’s really musky and desperately needs a wash...”

The mushroom tip went on to kiss up to Spongebob’s lips, as the length now waited for some service.

“Lick it,” demanded the ‘bodyguard’.

“But why should I?”

“Because I said so. Lick it.”

“But I don’t wanna...”

“Lick it. Don’t make me say it again.”

“Okay ... okay!”

Reluctantly, Spongebob poked his tongue out and started to lick the mushroom tip of the manhood. He squeezed his eyes shut in the process. It wasn’t long until he moved his tongue to the upside, now beginning to lick up and then down. His pink tongue stretched a little while he licked, gliding his tongue from the bell and all the way down to the ballsack.

“Wow, you’re pretty good at this. You don’t look like an amateur at all,” commented the Strangler.

“Jee, thank you!” Spongebob chirped with a smile forming on his face.

Loud, thunderous strikes occurred at the front door. Spongebob perked up at the sudden noise.

“I think someone’s here to save me!” Spongebob chimed with glee.

On that note, the Strangler just dropped Spongebob onto the ground. He gripped onto Spongebob’s arms and immediately tied the yellow sponge’s wrists together. The same treatment was given to Spongebob’s legs. Spongebob’s stringy limbs were now tied to prevent him from moving.

“H-huh? Bodyguard, this is so ... bad! You can’t just use me like this!”

“Stay there, bitch.”

The thumps on the door thundered louder. As Spongebob watched the door develop dents, his eyes widened in shock. The Strangler simply laughed at the scene.

“Hey, hold on,” he told the knocker at the door.

Opening the door, a strange male fish stood outside. This green-skinned fish wore a black cowboy hat, black sunglasses, and a crimson scarf that covered his nose and mouth. His shoulders were sheltered by two metal plates, and one hand was covered by a black glove. A sleeveless jacket covered his torso, and it was open at the chest to showcase a grey shirt underneath. He wore a pair of skinny black trousers, two knee-high studded boots, and a belt with a skull on it around his waist. There was an odd aura about this fishman.

“Holy fish paste! It’s DENNIS!” Spongebob screamed in fear.

“Shut the FUCK UP, Spongebob!” Squidward yelled next door.

“There’s two more guys behind me.”

“Alright, Dennis. Let’s make this a party.”

“A ... p-party?” Spongebob whimpered, his limbs still tied in a mess.

Two armoured, muscular pink fishmen followed Dennis into the house. The door slammed shut as soon as everyone was inside. A completely immobile Spongebob was sitting in the corner.

“G-Gary, help me!” Spongebob pleaded.

But all Gary did was slither into the kitchen. Spongebob was all alone.

“Go on, guys. The sponge is ready for it.”

“N-no! Bodyguard! NO!”

All the sponge could do was plead, especially with Dennis in the mix. Spongebob had a horrifying image in his head of Dennis’ spiked boots. How long has it been since Spongebob first met Dennis? So long! The poor sponge thought Dennis was killed by Bigger Boot!

As the four fishmen approached the yellow sponge, more zippers began to unzip. Spongebob swallowed his own spit nervously. His body shivered uncontrollably.