Twisted Tentacle
A hideous vastness of sand stretches ahead of you, though this is no desert. Dark water laps languidly at its borders to the west whilst tall and thick grass lies to the east. A few fellow individuals wander the bitter beach, their task the same as yours. You look up to the sullen sky. With a stalwart sigh you set about your duty.
You look down and start sweeping your metal detector over the beach's sandy surface. This is not the first time you have visited this place, so you know what to expect: long periods of empty nothingness between bouts of exciting excavations. Despite possessing the knowledge that much of your efforts hear will be fruitful, you diligently silently sweep. You do not really come here with the hopes that you might unearth something actually worthwhile; rather, you come hear enjoying the stillness and solemnity that you cannot find at work or laying about at home. Even if you discover nothing in these hours you will be happy because at least you had some serenity in that time.
Your searches in the sands prove as fruitful as expected. You find nothing in the first hour, a couple of faded coins in the second, the remnants of a rusted knife in the third, and it is the fourth when you are about ready to head home. However, just as you consider walking back to your vehicle, your metal detector begins to shake and shudder, beeping like it never has before. You circle the machine over the area until it is beeping its loudest. Furtively looking around, you turn off your device and crouch low. None of your fellow searchers seemed to have noticed the noise, which is good. When you make a discovery you like to be by yourself. In the past others offer too many words in what should be a somber moment of examination.
You lay the metal detector next to you and being digging in the sand with your hands. You had used to possess a small shovel for this task but after breaking a fragile item in a hasty dig, you have refrained from using it ever since. Your fingers find the sand frozen yet yielding. In only a matter of moments you uncover a curious artifact. Turning it over in your hands and rubbing the rest of the sand away, you see that it is a twisted tentacle. Despite being constructed entirely of brass, it feels slimy in your hands. Because of this you drop it in revulsion and stare at it as it lies on the ground. You half-expect it to twitch but it remains unmoving, an object solely inanimate. You continue to stare at its hideous whole, wondering who would craft such a thing. You reach forward and pick it up delicately with two fingers. It is not really so horrible, you decide. You suppose the reason why you might dislike it so is because of the detail. It is so fine, so lifelike yet not like what any creature you know of possesses. You think back to a painting you had once seen of a mythic monster, a kraken. You nod. Yes, it is something like that--fictitious and thus totally harmless.
You stand and grab your metal detector, the tentacle clutched in your other hand. You wonder at its worth as you head back to your car. It is dirty now and could use some cleaning, especially if it removed its singularly sliminess. You do not really consider selling it though. It is worth too much to you already. You will remember it above all anything else about your venture to this beach, perhaps even better than you will recall the rest of this week or coming month. Its sick shape has already embedded itself into your mind.
You drive back to your apartment with the tentacle tucked into your glove department the whole while. You take it out when you arrive home and place it in your pocket. There it stays the rest of the day while you go about fulfilling meaningless tasks and obligations of maintenance and matter. The constant weight of the metallic tentacle keeps its memory in the back of your mind as you busy yourself. Unlike other objects you have found before, you cannot explain this one's presence. Did some fool just lose it? Why had they had it in the first place? It is a work of art. It has no business being buried. Was its entombment intentional then? You can't really say. Sure they would be better places to dispose of it then. Whatever the case, you decide you might have it cleaned up after all. It might look good in your bathroom or upon the writing desk in your bedroom.
The day passes swiftly. You retire after a hearty meal to your bedroom. Here you undress, removing the tentacle before you discard your pants. You stare at the twisted tentacle again. It still feels somehow slimy even though there is no moisture upon it. You shrug and rest it atop the notebook that lies on your writing desk. Perhaps it will provide some inspiration for your recently wordless writing.
In your nightclothes you climb into bed. You turn off your lamp and then roll around as you try to find comfort in the disconsolate darkness. Unable to find sleeping solace after a few minute, you sit up in bed and stare into the shadows. Your gaze eventually falls to the tentacle's silhouette. You shudder at the sight of it and then bury your head in your pillow. You force your eyes shut and try to recapture some of that peace your venture to the beach brought. Unfortunately, thoughts of the beach bring your mind to contemplation of the tentacle. Its form and mystery resonate in your mind so that is all you can think of. Somehow this single shape does bring solace, enough for you to slip off to sleep.
The rest you receive is haunted. In the throes of unconsciousness you find yourself placed in a strange and terrible nightmare. You are elsewhere in your eldritch dream, a dank and dark decaying place. You are without your normal clothes and instead wear raggedy black robes. Your bare feet slap wetly against the slick ground as a figure dressed similarly to you leads you forward by tugging at the rope around your neck. You come to a step when you see that the person leading you perhaps does not deserve that title or even a recognition of humanity for underneath his clothes strange shapes squirm and his hidden head is misshapen beneath his hood. The creature hisses impatiently at your sudden halt and tugs harder on the rope. You stumble forward with a gasp, your hands going to the rope. The creature notices this too and gives an even stronger jerk. When you still refuse to move, the creature nods. You cry out in pain as you are struck from behind. You fall to your knees. The creature tugs again and you get up and follow it more obediently now. You take a quick glance behind you and see one of the creature's terrible kin stands behind you, a hefty club in its crablike hands. You turn your gaze away and hastily follow when your captor pulls.
Your captor leads you through your cyclopean surroundings with nary a sound save for the occasional hiss to remind you to move faster. You take so many twists and turns and go up and down so many times that you become dizzy trying to figure out your serpentine route. You soon become cold too, your meager vestments offering little aid against the chilly, damp air. You are somewhat distracted by the cold because of the sinister sounds of gibbering and splashing that grow louder and louder the further and further you go. The gibbering means nothing to you, but it somehow sounds blasphemous and order. You realize that the gibbering is not one voice but many and there is a pattern in their chaos of calls. You wonder what they might say and whom they say it to.
You receive your answer when you finally come to the end of your foray. At a sharp right turn your captor steps out into a hole in the place's thick walls. The hole leads down a slimy trail into a huge pool of foaming water around which stands more of the cultist creatures. They are the ones singing that terrible chant into the foggy night air under a crescent moon. Your captor tugs and you follow it down the sludgy track. The volume of the chant raises, the sounds so obviously blasphemous and loathsome. You stare at the pool in mute horror as you approach. You can already guess the creatures' intentions. They mean to sacrifice you to the waters. You wonder how it is to die in a dream, even one as seemingly real as this.
When you arrive in front of the pool of water, your captor steps towards you. It chitters as it removes the rope and then steps aside. You gulp and glance down at the water. It rushes and rages as some of it splashes out of its confinements and onto you. Suddenly the chant ceases. You look up to the assembled creatures. They stared at you silently. You take a fearful step back just as the creature behind you pushes you forward. You scream as you splash into the water and--
You open your eyes, wide-awake now. It's still dark. You rub at your eyes wearily as you sit up, glancing about the room until your gaze falls upon the twisted tentacle. Immediately you leap out of bed. Though the floor seems a little wet, you scarcely notice it as you make your way towards the gleaming shape. It glows green now, its surface shiny and spotless. You know it must be the source of your nightmare. You have to take it out of here if you are to get any rest.
You reach forward and grab the tentacle. Immediately you are back, flailing in the raging water as it threatens to overwhelm you. The creatures have resumed their chant and now horrible laughter mixes with their gibbering. You cry out and swim towards the pool's edge but it is higher than you can reach. Still you try to climb up, your clumsy attempts to gain a foothold on the slimy surface a complete and utter failure. The water suddenly washes over you, depriving you of sight and breath under its dark depths. You surface a few seconds later, gasping for air as your arms flail around. You notice your arms seem strange, your skin a little less hairy and greyer than you remember. These observations go ignored as you seek to escape this pool. You won't drown here, not like this.
The chanting ends again. You struggle to swim, hardly noticing it until the silence sets in. Only then do you look towards the pool. Suddenly a dozen long tentacles burst from the water. They writhe about for several second before one suddenly surged forward, whipping around to wrap around your chest. You cry out as you are flung across the pool and splash into the water, diving deep beneath. Fully submerged, your screams are nearly silent as twin tentacles wrap around your legs. Your form shudders as the tentacles squeeze before pulling up and tearing you out of the--
Dream. You fall flat on your rear as you stumble away from the tentacle. You stare up at it. You have to get rid of the twisted tentacle--not just throw it out the window, but return it to where you found it and then never return.
Quickly you get to your feet and grab a shirt from your dresser. You approach the tentacle cautiously, waiting for it to do something, daring it to do anything. When nothing happens, you lunge forward and wrap the shirt around it. You then rush out of your room, grab your car keys, and manage to place a pair of flip-flops on our slippery soles before running out of your apartment to your vehicle. It's foggy outside though the crescent moon does provide some light. You step into the vehicle and put the covered tentacle on the passenger seat as you start the car. You place your hands on the steering wheel, wondering why it feels so strange and slimy in your grip. You shrug and begin to drive, taking a familiar route to the beach.
This night's thick fog prevents you from going as fast as you want to go. If you had a choice you would push your car to the limit and speed to the beach. Alas, that would be detrimental to your survival and you want to survive this.
You pass nary a car on your way and the beach is just as empty. You take the cloth-covered with you as you dash out of the car. This time when you do step out onto the sands they actually do feel hideously vast. The shore stretches into an impossible infinity and the dark waters beside it no doubt are unthinkably deep. There is no fog on the beach. The crescent moon here shines somehow brighter, reflecting silver light across the water--and your body. You glance down at your arms. Just like in your dream, they appear grey and slick.
"Just a dream," you mutter, clutching the tentacle tightly underneath its covering. "Just a dream."
You consider what to do with the tentacle. You could just bury it, but you can't in your right mind do that. Someone else could find it. Perhaps if you threw it in the water you would feel better because no one bothers swimming here anyways.
Your decision made, you approach the sea. You take one driven step, nearly stumbling as your feet slide strangely against your flip-flips. You kick them off and then take a look over your shoulder. The area behind you is shrouded in fog. You can't make our your car even though you left on your lights. You shiver. Something isn't right here, but...
"It's just a dream," you say, your words lacking conviction. You grit your teeth. "Just. A. Dream."
Driven, you approach the sea. You pause at its edge, unsure whether you're going to go in. No. This is as close as you'll get to the water. You lift the tentacle, noticing the shirt is a little wet for no discernible reason. You look up to it. You wished you hadn't picked your favorite shirt to wrap it up then, but that's unimportant. It's better to focus instead on ridding yourself of the twisted tentacle.
With a yell you throw the cloth-covered tentacle as far as your might allows. You watch it seemingly arc over the bright moon before falling to the waters below with a small splash. You let out a sigh of relief as you watch it disappear, your best shirt sinking into the water moments after it. You smile and your tense shoulders relax as you realize it's over. After all, it was just a dream. Just a--
The water ripples. You take a hesitant step back.
"Just a dream," you reassure yourself. "Just a dream."
Your foolish hopes are dashed when a single tentacle breaks free from the water, emerging where you had thrown the idol. You stare at it in disbelief, recognizing it as what the tentacle would look like if it were much larger and much, much more alive. For a moment you can't accept reality and this is why you don't run. You don't know what is more irrational--the limber green appendage looming in the waters or that you can't accept it exists.
You find out the reality of the situation when the tentacle sinisterly slithers forward across the water's surface and grabs for you. Regaining some presence of mind, you dive, grunting as you land on the cold, hard sand. The tentacle misses you, but comes around for another go. You futilely roll to the side only to be caught in its grip. You scream and scrabble at the ground as the tentacle drags you away from the shore and lifts you into the air. You have time to scream one more time before the tentacle drags you underwater. You flail underwater and seem to be rewarded for your efforts when the tentacle releases you. You swim upwards and surface. Gasping for air, you wildly look about. Blood drains from your face as you see the scenery has changed. You are back in the nightmare...or is this truly reality?
You are in the same wild pool of water, the cultist creatures from before surround the water at every point. Worse, the dozen of tentacles from before have multiplied. There are so many in the pool of varying shades and sizes. You float there helplessly as tentacles thrash and grab at you. They catch your arms and legs, lifting you aloft and holding you lengthwise over the water. You scream as other tentacles tear away your clothes, rendering you naked and even more vulnerable than you were before. Now that you are exposed, more of the tentacles wrap around you, grasping and squeezing at your torso and head. This last part hurts the most, causing you to scream once more. You are silenced as a small tentacle intrudes into your mouth, choking your speech. You bite down on it and immediately regret it. It tastes terrible.
Suddenly something squelches. You shiver as the tentacles exude something cold and slimy. They rub up and down on your body, coating your form with it. When your right arm suddenly numbs, you twist your head right. Your eyes widen. Your skin truly is now gray and rubbery and hairless. The flesh is floppier too, your bones thinning as you watch. When the tentacle rubs across your hand, your fingers merging into a single grey appendage. Your arm shrinks and pulls into your torso, flattening as the end and pointing and curving into a flippery form. Before you can see the rest of what happens to your arm, the tentacle in your mouth pulls your head down, forcing you to watch as many small tentacles caress your torso. You watch as your nipples and bellybutton fade into the white-grey moist flesh that has replaced the skin on your torso. Your stomach flattens totally as your chest slims down, now much more streamlined than before. Scarcely believing what you're seeing, you panic as you feel tentacles rub at your left arm and it soon too becomes numb. You shudder, knowing all too well what is happening to your other arm. Still, the real fear comes from the knowledge that these are only parts of an entire change. You are fully transforming, but into what?
You receive some sort of an answer when tentacles slide up against your ears. Another goes about wrapping around your neck and one on your nose and then they all get rubbing. You choke when the tentacle in your mouth discharges its own slime. The oozing liquid slides down your throat while your hair abruptly sheds from your head. You shudder as your ears meld in with the rest of your slippery grey skin and then your nose and mouth suddenly push forward at once, your nose merging with the upper portion of your mouth. At the same time, your neck and shoulders joins with the rest of your increasingly round and melonlike head, a blowhole forming onto your cranium. Your mouth finishes extending into a beaklike shape, your teeth sharpening into predatory points and your tongue thinning and lengthening to fit the span of jaws. You squeal in an inhuman way as the tentacle in your mouth digs in deeper into your extended snout before discharging again. Your perspective suddenly shifts as your eyes change position so that they are further down and nearly parallel with your mouth.
When the tentacles pull your altered cranium again to look down at your torso, you see that the changes have progressed. Your torso is sleek and streamlined and you no longer have arms, only flippers. You shiver as you feel the discharge reach deep into your insides and you suddenly feel very warm internally. A tentacle rubs at your back, causing a small shape to poke up and out and grooming it until you have a large dorsal fin upon your back. You can barely believe it--from your torso up you are an aquatic animal, nearly a dolphin!
Suddenly more tentacles sweep up out of the water and wrapped around your grey legs, bringing them close together. A thinner tentacle darts up and gently teases your genitals. Even with the tentacle in your altered mouth you let out a shrill whistle at the molestation. This does nothing to dissuade the tentacle from poking and prodding at just the right areas until you can't help but be aroused despite yourself. The pleasure you derive from this fondling is overshadowed as you squeal when your legs and feet merged together. At first the rubbery flesh is formless but then the end resolves into a wide fluke. From here the rest of the leg follows the fin's suit, forming into a thick dolphin tail while your rear flattens and melds into the rest of your streamlined form. Your genitals somehow still remain, but only for a moment as they dwindle and shrink even as the tiny tentacle continues to tease it. You click and squeal as you watch what remains of your manhood and humanity slip away as your shaft and testicles descend into a cleft. The cleft develops into a fully formed feminine dolphin nethers in an instant, but it takes a little longer before you realize what had just occurred. Just as you realize you've been fully changed into a dolphin, a female dolphin, the tiny tentacle pokes at your cunt. You whistle in surprise at the unexpected sensations and take a harsh breath through your blowhole. The tentacle in your mouth extricates itself as the tiny tentacle prods again, digging a little deeper this time. You squirm, the pleasurable feelings of your newfound feminine folds almost proving too much for you to handle. You whistle, partially begging it to be stop and partially egging it on.
In response, the tentacles clutching you all release you at once. You shrilly shriek as you fall and splash down into the ocean. You float in the depths for a moment, floundering with your form. You're not quite sure what to move where in order to do what. The sight of something lurking near the bottom of the pool, hideous and malevolent, gets you moving. You speed to the top and surface with a frightened click and squeal. You bob around, looking helplessly for a way out you already know doesn't exist. The cultists stare down at you silently, obviously unmoved by your feral pleadings.
A tentacle unfurls from the deep and coils around you, grabbing you in the middle of your fusiform shape. You whistle as you recognize it as _the_tentacle, the one that got you into this situation in the first place, this too real nightmare. Even as you struggle, the tentacle lifts you high above the cultists. They look up at you and then begin their gibbering.
The song sounds different this time. It is still dissonant and chaotic, but you find solace in it somehow for in the cultists' song is the sounds of the sea. You hear of the waves, the tides, those who lurk above the waters, and those who lurk below down in the deep. The wordless chant chips away at your mind, removing resistance and resolve with each passing moment. Its thrums also awaken something within your sex, a deep heat that only grows and grows. The ocean didn't sound so bad after all, even if there are unfathomable ancient things in the depths that can shatter mortal minds in moments. But why worry about that? You're just a dolphin.
Just a dolphin.
You shriek in defiance. You are not just a dolphin. You are a person. Right? Right?
The cultists chant louder, drowning out any of your protests. Each word is like a needle at your delicate mind. You search your memories for what you were, but all you can recall is your most recent memories: that of the beach, the water, the sand, the shore, how here and there are so similar...or is it because here and there are the same? The moon, the fog, the water...all the same. You desperately try to remember your body. You recall grey skin, you recall yourself not talking much--was that because you couldn't talk at all? You don't know, you're just so confused, you're just a dolphin, just a--
No!
You whistle and click helplessly, not even able to hear yourself. You flap your fins--fins because you don't have arm. Your tail undulates in the air--there are no legs there. And your voice is shrill and inhuman, because you're not a human. Your slick sex clarifies your role even further: you're a female dolphin, able to swim and serve, bear and nurse. What else would you do?
Well, you're certainly not doing any of that. At the moment you are held in the air. You relax. Though you are still a bit anxious due to being out of your habitat and in the clutches of a creature that might do you harm, the cultist's chant suppresses any action that might cause you harm to yourself. Thus, you lie still in the tentacle's grasp, waiting and hoping to be released.
As you calm down, so do the waters beneath you and many of the tentacles retreat into the depths until only the original dozen remain. You remain silent as the tentacle holding you slowly descends until you are nearly at the water. You wiggle your fins and tail and even chirp happily--you're so close!
The tentacles aren't done with you, however. Three of them writhe around you and then suddenly strike, driving deep into three spots: your mouth, your sex, and your blowhole. The tentacle in your mouth slithers in, already oozing something delicious that uses down your gullet and into your stomach. The tentacle at your sex seems too big at first, but your feminine folds stretch enough to accept it, the pleasure this brings nearly overwhelming your sudden fear of suffocation. Luckily the tentacle in your blowhole quickly retreats, leaving you gasping for air and more and more as the tentacle in your sex slinks further and further in, unimpeded by your clamping passage. Once you regain some breath, you manage to lustily squeal a little bit. It feels so good, even if it's not the same species in you or something that could get you pregnant.
You shudder as the tentacle pushes further and further, squirming in your confinement not because you hate it, but because you love it. You swear it's pushed as far as it can go without going into your womb and you don't think you could handle that. You don't question why the tentacles do what they do; rather, you only enjoy because you're a dolphin after all.
Finally, something happens that you did not expect. First, you orgasm, squealing and chittering as your mind overloads with sexual pleasure. The tentacle in your sex shudders and then you feel something warm rush into your womb, filling you almost entirely. While you tremble from the aftermath, the tentacle in your sex pleasurably pulls out, leaving your sex wet and dripping with a mixture of your fluids. You whimper as the tentacle in your mouth follows suit, and then the tentacle clutching you lets you go. With a surprised squeal you drop into the calm waters below. You swim around in a daze. Though so filled already, you feel empty too.
The cultist's chant quiets and the tempo slows down. Your sex-addled mind accepts the less chaotic chant gratefully. The song is of the deep again, but it is of life and nourishment. Things, horrible things, breed down there quickly in the dark but the ramifications of their existence is of no consequence to you. You're just a dolphin so what you really hear is the life aspect to the chant.
Life, yes, life. You feel life growing within your flooded womb. It doesn't matter to you if it's because you're exceptionally fertile or if it's because of the tentacle's special seed, but your stomach is already expanding with rare rapid growth of twin young you will soon birth, but not yet. Soon, yes, but not yet.
The chant ceases and so does your confused swimming come to a halt. You look up to the cultists and click in bewilderment. Why did that sweet sound stop? There's no question you're going to be a mother now, but--
The water you reside in suddenly churns furiously, swirling around and around. You try to swim against the pull but it's too strong. Shrieking and squealing, you are drawn deep into the water and sucked elsewhere.
You breach the surface with a splash. You click in confusion as you see your surroundings have changed. No longer are you caught in a pool surrounded by strange creatures. Instead you reside in a wide and vast black sea that seems to stretch on into infinity save for the shoreline you are not too far from. You blink once and then forget your anxiety. Wherever you are, you're home in the sea. You chitter excitedly and jump into the air, not getting as high as you might due to your full and pregnant belly. You splash in the water and hear clicking and whistling in the distance. You let out a whistle of your own when you spot several other of your kin jumping off in the distance. You speed off towards them, again slowed down by your pregnancy. You don't care though, you're happy to be gravid, happy to have an unconfined home, happy to have found a pod and happy to be...happy. There's no need to think of dwellers in the deep dark, of what you could be harboring in your belly, or why there's an object glinting in the moonlight beneath the waters. After all, you're just a dolphin.
Just a dolphin.