Tentacles

Tentacles

A gibbous moon was high in the sky of that spring in 1922 when the four intrepid investigators entered the abandoned church in the Massachusetts town of Arkham. Young women had gone missing near the church, and the four students at the Miskatonic University were determined to uncover the truth. Unfortunately, for them, they did, and the three young people who ran out of the church, when they were found by the police, had gone incurably insane, unable to explain what they had experienced. In fact they would never talk again, being unable to put into words the horrors they had witnessed.

This is what happened to the fourth member of the group…

Annie Whitman screamed as she ran after the others, trying to make it out of the undercroft of the church into the open air. She had never believed any of the stories of monsters in Arkham. This was the 20th century, after all. People didn’t believe in monsters any more. So, when she had entered the closed down church, she had only been armed with her wits and a powerful flashlight. But there had been… that thing. That thing which her brain still could not comprehend. That was when the four of them had run. But Annie Whitman had been at the back. The other three made it up out of the undercroft. But, as Annie ran, a tendril fastened around her left ankle, and pulled. She fell screaming down onto the stone slabs underfoot, and was pulled backwards into the darkened undercroft. Her flashlight fell from her hands and went out. As the church doors slammed shut Annie was left alone in the dark. Well, not quite alone.

She was dragged down the stone steps into darkness deeper than night. More tentacles fastened into her body. One grabbed the other ankle, as one grabbed each wrist. She was lifted bodily back into the heart of the undercroft of the church. There she was held struggling in the air. But the thing was far too strong. Annie could not break free.

The tentacles were slimy. She shuddered at their contact. It felt like being held by giant slugs.

“Please, let me go.” she begged. But the monster, if it could understand her, ignored her. Instead Annie felt yet more tendrils, on her feet, pulling away her shoes, and then her socks. More tentacles grabbed her jacket, rending it in two, and discarding the scraps of clothes. Her white blouse was grabbed next by the tentacles, and pulled away in pieces. Had there been any light in that undercroft a person might have been able to see her white brassiere.

“No, don’t.” Annie said, as a pair of tentacles grasped her khaki shorts and rent them asunder. She was now reduced to her underwear – but not for long, as those wisps of clothing were pulled away from her form. Annie Whitman was now as naked as the day she had been born, held naked in the air, spread-eagled by some horror from beyond the stars.

Annie was held like that for some time, as though the creature could see her, despite the darkness, and was studying her naked form. Then Annie began to believe that she could see in the undercroft, just a fraction, as though there was some sort of ambient light which was no light at all. Was there a hint of purple? Was there a hint of green? Or was it some hue not found on the earthly spectrum of colours.

After a long time Annie glimpsed what she thought was movement. A tentacle touched her naked body, but gently. It explored the front of her body, its slimy form encircling each breast. The very end of a tentacle tweaked a nipple – and the nipple erected, despite the horror which Annie was feeling.

Another tentacle found her other breast, caressing that, too, and bringing that nipple to an unwanted erection. To Annie this was worse than death. Why didn’t the thing just rip her apart and be done with her?

Then a third nipple touched her naked, hairy crotch, exploring the lips of her vulva, finally finding Annie’s clit (like none of her boyfriends had done). A suction cup on the tentacle attached itself around the clit, sucking and releasing, sucking and releasing. Annie could not resist, despite the revulsion which she felt. Her body betrayed her. The tentacle brought her to a screaming orgasm (like none of her boyfriends had done).

Annie hung there, exhausted, and disgusted at the fact that she had had an orgasm at the hands… er, at the tentacles… of this unholy monstrosity. She begged for death. She begged to be released. But the monster did neither. It had not finished with its toy just yet.

The tip of a tentacle touched Annie’s anus. The anus tightened in fear. But the tentacle would not be denied. The slimy tip slid through the puckered ring. Annie could not resist. More and more of the tentacle entered her rectum, sliding deeper into her body. Into went along her rectum and into her colon. It thickened as more and more of it slid inside her. Further and further it disappeared into her intestine, further than any cock could ever have gone.

At the same time a tentacle invaded her vagina, forcing its way past her labia. It slid up inside her until it reached her cervix, and the closed opening there. But the tentacle went further, parting her cervix and sliding up to fill her uterus.

Annie screamed. She had never felt so full. But opening her mouth was a mistake, as a third tentacle slid into her open mouth, a mouth which she could not close. It raped her throat, going deeper and deeper down inside her, perhaps intending to meet up with the one which had entered her through her anus.

Annie fainted, denied oxygen, her mouth filled with a tentacle which had no taste at all. And suddenly the creature was gone, its tentacle disappearing inside Annie Whitman.

The naked Annie Whitman smiled, as she got up the floor of the undercroft. She – or rather the creature that wore her body as protective clothing from the light of the sun and the moon – strode out of the church. At last it was free in the world…

The End.