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Personal Diary of Zeke(Age: 25 - Genus : Sea Lion, further details omitted out of respect)

Discovered in his motorcar in a stretch of road through the Stewardshire forest. The rest of the vehicle was coated with a strange slurry, as of yet unidentified. The slurry appears not to be directly caustic, but we have not tested for toxins.

The diary itself was completely unblemished, written in very clear handwriting unless otherwise noted.

The final entry is dated 25/03, approximately two days before his disappearance was reported.

My life has changed irrevocably. Even as I recount this now, it scarcely feels real.

I was driving on an ancient road, through an even more ancient forest, when I rolled over a jagged stone that destroyed two of my tires in one fell swoop. My motorcar lurched to its left and screamed like some dying thing, and my mind screamed with primal fear of death. It took much of my effort just to keep myself from pitching entirely off the road and into the gauntlet of trees. Thankfully, I was able to stop it well before it went over the precipice, but that small relief was far overshadowed by the realisation that I was now quite stranded. I only had one spare tyre, and I had lost two. There was little I could do aside from wait and hope that someone would drive down this same road and I could be given a lift to a nearby town for repairs.

I knew the risks of travelling with my motorcar over such a long distance. But the seductive lure of arriving at Teasdale independently of the train was too much for me to resist. I would show myself at the auction with the best of first impressions, and establish myself as someone of import, someone with income and freedom, someone worth noticing.

Now, though, it seemed as though I would only establish myself as being a tardy upstart, assuming I would even arrive at all.

That outcome seemed far more likely as the day wore on and the sky darkened. The greenery around me took on a darker hue. The lowering evening sunlight seemed to pull them upwards, making them seem more and more like sentries guarding a prisoner - I suppose that made me the prisoner in this particular analogy.

The dark clouds came seemingly from nowhere, as did the ferocious rain pouring from it. By the time night had fallen, with only the headlights of my vehicle to provide any sort of illumination, it battered at the hood of my car unrelentingly, preventing me from being alone with my thoughts; the one solace I had had up until that point.

What better time, as well, to learn that there were small, pin-hole sized leaks in the hood, and that soon the cabin was filled with a damp chill. The whisper and patter of the rain was incessant, and quickly it became clear that it would not serve me well to sleep there. I left the vehicle and threw a tarpaulin over the top to at least partially shield it from the elements. I hoped it would not be too waterlogged come the morning.

At the time, I felt I had little choice at that point but to leave the car and seek more natural shelter elsewhere. How that thought possessed me, I did not understand at the time. I have always been fonder of the comforts of civilisation. Yet I chose to leave the relative comfort of the car

After the experience I had that night, I have come to consider the possibility that these misfortunes were pre ordained.

Fate brought me there, fate scuttled my car, and fate led me into the forest.

How else would I have found the cave so quickly?

My flashlight picked up the glitter of moisture around the mouth of the chamber. At the moment I saw it, I knew it would suit my needs.

Some beasts perhaps made their den here once upon a time, but now it seemed totally barren. It was cool inside the tent, but not as chilly as my vehicle. It was far more comfortable, paradoxically enough.

Here, in the cave, without the constant beat of raindrops over me, it was possible for me to collect myself once more. I hugged my overcoat tighter to myself, thankful that the rain had not soaked me through to my undergarments.

I took the whisper to be a figment of the mind at first. It spoke in an unfamiliar voice, but an undeniably feminine one. I took it as my mind spooling up a dream of love to warm me throughout the night.

But then the voice began to make requests of me.

Come, child, the voice said.Come deeper into the cave. It is much more comfortable inside.

It repeated this entreaty, the same intonation every time, until I understood that this was no mere trick of an exhausted mind. The voice was far too vivid for that. The more the voice beckoned to me, the more a queer sensation began to alight upon my mind and body. A feeling not unlike the first time I experienced young love. That quickening of the heart, that rush of blood through all of my extremities. It animated me from my crouch and guided me towards the deep darkness of the cave. With my flashlight for company, I stooped low and began my sojourn.

The voice welcomed me into the dark, winding veins of the cave, like the capillaries of some long dead, ancient thing. The slight movement of air called to mind deep, long breaths. With those breaths came a strange, comforting heat, a throbbing heat that called to mind the rush of blood. I did not know why such images came to my head, why these details made the cave seem so alive.

Come, child of mine. Come into the comfort.

It was the voice, I surmised, even as my body drew me closer towards it. It did not sound any closer, and yet I felt myself inexorably nearing my destination. Even though I knew not what was ahead of me, I felt a queer sensation of nostalgia. As though I was returning to my childhood home out west. As though I was returning to see my family again, proudly, having made something of myself at last. I felt a similar pull from that cave, and strangely, not the smallest unit of fear.

My electric torch soon was supplanted by a light, further in the distance. A pale orange, comforting light, calling to mind the sunset from home. The nostalgia grew, a pleasant pain that I did not seek release from. The radiation of that light touched my chest, and, adding to the growing ledger of incomprehensible choices I made, I turned off my torch and left it on the cold stone floor. I walked as though in a dream, my legs moving without any bidding from my mind. I saw no reason at all to dissuade them.

As I entered a cavernous chamber, I saw a strange pale-orange pool, the source of the warm glow that had beckoned me thus far. It was queer and strange, yes, but I did not find it frightening in any manner.

In fact, the only thing I wished for at that moment was to dip my body into the pool.

The voice kindly requested me to remove my clothing before I bathed, so I did.

I was surprised to find that my member was erect, pointing like a compass needle at my path ahead as I bared myself.The orange pool ahead of me beckoned. Shapes inside it twisted and wriggled. They did not resemble any sort of anthropoid shapes, but it did not dissuade me.

I took my time folding my clothes after removing them, placing them aside for the time being. I would have need of them after my bath.

As I slipped myself into the pool, I was met with a strange sensation. It was warmer than I expected, but refreshingly so. There was more resistance to my movements than normal water, like I walked through a thin mousse. It hugged my flesh and stuck to it, in between my toes and into every crevice of my body. I would not imagine that it would feel very pleasant against fur or feathers, but against my smooth skin it felt comforting and cosy.

The shapes were taking more and more definition the deeper I waded into the pool and let its warm embrace enfold me. I found myself looking down at them, curious enough to consider diving down for a better view.

She spared me that inconvenience as she rose from the pool and towered over me.

At first, I failed to comprehend or understand what I was looking at. My throat wanted to scream until it bled. My heart wished to wrap itself in my guts. My soul longed to leave my body. How could it not, when confronted with such unimaginable beauty.

I could never capture even a fraction of her beauty for you. She must be beheld. But allow me to share at least a little bit of Her majesty.

(This passage is mostly unintelligible and goes on for two full pages. We have pieced together some sections, and at a point the author's hand regains legibility.)

She rose from the luminescent orange pool, Her full mass rising up to the roof of the cavernous chamber and hanging in loose drapes like the leaves of a willow tree, only slicker and warmer, as though made of honey. Her body twisted and knotted into strange, pulsating braids that continually pulsated with a dark fluid. Amid each braid was a mouth, and inside those mouths were more mouths. The mouths within mouths opened, and spoke.

They spoke to me, into my mind, and calmed my brain before it could snap in half. I was grateful to Her, and Her beautiful voice, for sparing me the pain of sanity. The fear that gripped me for mere seconds was gone, replaced with nothing but love. I fell so deeply for her in a moment.

My hand was wrapped around my cock, and I pumped it, thinking of little else I could do to pay tribute to Her beauty.

Her tendrils enfolded me, one of those many-mouthed braids pushing my legs wide apart. Her body and mouths kissed me and lapped at me, anointing me with the most indescribably delicious taste I had ever experienced. As I was lifted, I became aware that the pool had stuck to me in strands, solidifying around me like an insulating shell.

Her tongue and her tendrils had no issues with penetrating me, however, and I was glad to allow Her into me. More than grateful.

The deeper She pushed Herself into me, the more I cried out in pleasure. She silenced me with the warm orange taste from a braided tendril, pushing my mouth wide and pouring Her delicious ichor down my throat.

My true anointing was yet to come, though.

The sensation was strange, perhaps even frightening at first. The warm wet feeling of Her touch against my ear, guiding it open and pushing its way into my ear canal. As it stopped up my hearing in the left ear, another of Her tongues pushed into my right. I was descended into silence, the only sound the constant rush of my hot blood. And the whisper of Her voice in my mind.

Let Me, She said.

I let Her.

When Her touch pushed past my ear drum and reached my brain, my body was set ablaze. My soul was seared with the most intense pleasure I had, or ever will experience. Each squish and push and thrust into the crevices of my mind cleaned it of all its chaff and detritus. The fear I had experienced when I first saw Her. My ambitions for life before Her. My connections to everyone but Her. Even now I recall those old parts of my life with tinges of confusion. How I could have been such a fool to care of aught but Her.

She fixed me as She filled me, Her tendrils leaving Her holy essence inside me. In my guts, in my throat, in my stomach, in my brain. Orange and gold swam through my vision, drowning myself in Her tongues and her touch. Her tongues entwined around my mind and each other, squeezing it like a sponge. Each squeeze made me come, pouring my essence and what remained of my self away. What need did I have for them? Not when I could writhe and quiver and let my body be Hers.

Hours of squelching and thrusting and squeezing passed. She was nothing if not thorough. I could feel Her essence inside me even after Her tongues dropped me into Her pool and allowed me to float. The warm ichor coated my brain and filled every crevice of my spine. I could taste Her in my mouth, breathe Her in my lungs, feel Her around my cock and inside my gut. Even the slightest movement brought me to the edge of ecstasy again.

As I floated, scarcely able to do anything but moan softly, I listened to Her. Her voice telling me what my life and desires and ambitions would be from this night onwards. And my grand mission for Her.

I will not recount it here. It cannot be described. It must be experienced.

Please, if you are reading this, go find Her.

I am far from Her now, as I must bring more to Her. Being apart from Her brings such pain to me. But She promises me more pleasure if I can bring more lovers to Her.

She will do the same for you.

It is the sweetest pleasure you will ever taste, or breathe, or feel.

You must experience it. You must experience Her.

She is not far.

If you listen, you will hear Her.

Listen.

Listen.

Listen.

(This repetition continues until the pages have run out, and continues on the back of the notebook until that too is exhausted.)

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