Deep Blue

by Aishling Morgan

  ‘It’s true,’ the plump girl said. ‘See for yourself.’

  ‘I will,’ Ed grated, ‘and if it’s true, which I don’t believe for a minute, I’ll be back here for dinner, fried octopus, and I’ll make Lil eat it, you lot too, if you’ve the guts to hang around!’

  He moved away, his face hot with his anger, his fists clenching and unclenching as he walked. They were taunting him, they had to be, but there had been a certainty, a conviction about their words that made it impossible to be certain. Walking fast, he made his way to the beach hut of a friend and borrowed a torch, also a spear gun, reasoning that while Lily was probably just with a man there was no harm in being armed. For one thing he could shoot the bastard in the leg and pretend it had gone off accidentally.

  The ferry was in mid-channel and he was forced to wait a frustrating ten minutes before crossing. On the far side he strode ahead, through the tunnel and on to the beach. It was empty, but there were tracks in the sand, twin tracks, leading towards the headland. His mouth set in a savage grin and his grip tightened on the spear gun. Doubtless Juliana thought whoever was with Lily would be a match for him, letting him know where they were in the hope of his getting a bloody nose. She was wrong: it was not his blood that was going to be spilled.

  He came to the ledges, his anger and determination building as he climbed each. Two girls were sunbathing on the fourth slope, one topless, one nude, but he ignored them, climbing quickly to the next ledge. The seventh was tricky, and at the eighth he was forced to wade a little way into the sea, his feet slipping on the weed-grown boulders before he found a place where he could pull himself up.

  Something moved on the slope, a small seal, sliding into the water and quickly diving in a swirl of black-green weed. Ed had moved the spear gun towards it, eager to kill something, and cursed at its sudden disappearance. For a moment its head appeared at the surface, oddly bright, green eyes peering at him, and then it once more dived. He turned, the animal forgotten. The cave was before him, a great gash in the face of the cliff. He paused to load the spear gun and went forward, cautiously now, with the safety catch off, into the dim interior of the cave. Ahead of him was blackness, the only sound the gentle splash of the waves among the weed and boulders on the cavern floor. He moved on, to where the ledge merged with a sheer wall, across slippery rocks and then on to sand. His eyes had begun to adapt, and he left the torch off, climbing a slope of wet rock to a ledge. Beyond was blackness, and silence, but as he strained he caught a sound, a wet, smacking noise, then a low moan. His thumb went to the torch button and he brought the spear gun up, aiming it into the blackness, then turned on the torch.

  Light flooded the cavern and Ed froze, his mouth falling open in shock. On the broad, sandy floor was Lily, naked, her body entwined in the tentacles of a colossal octopus. In colour it was yellowish green, its eyes huge, vermilion discs in a great, bulbous body the size of a truck. Its giant tentacles stretched out, each as thick as his body, three anchored to the ground, five busy with his future wife. Two wrapped her body, holding her immobile, the third was pulled back, as was the fourth, the tips only touching her body, one caressing her breasts and belly, the other her back and bottom. The last was different, longer, and swollen, with a pale tip, a good deal of which appeared to have been pushed into Lily’s vagina, with more pressed out to coil over her open sex. She had not seen him. Her eyes were shut, her expression one of utter, undiluted bliss. Her body was twitching, shivers running through her flesh, the same climactic spasms she went through in orgasm, only running on and on as she came over and over in her lover’s embrace.

  He could do nothing, only watch, horror-struck as the monster fondled his girlfriend, and as he stared he realised that it was pulling her in, beneath the bulbous dome of its body. Her feet were already hidden, the curtain of flesh that separated the creature’s tentacles moving slowly up her legs, drawing her under. She made no resistance, staying in her blissful dream state as she was drawn up under its mantle.

  Her thighs vanished, and as the mantle edge crept towards her sex the sperm arm burst, spraying white fluid across the golden down of her pubic hair and up over her belly and breasts. Lily gave a groan of unparalleled ecstasy as the sperm ran out around her vagina, and then her sex had been drawn up under the mantle edge.

  The beast’s arms began to tuck up under its body as Lily’s middle was engulfed. Green, resilient octopus flesh crept up over her belly, her chest, her breasts disappearing from view, and still she was coming, half engulfed, but in the throes of orgasm after orgasm as the grotesque thing consumed her. At last her head was gone, her hair trailing behind as a massive arm squeezed her in beneath the mantle.

  Ed finally found his senses, bringing up the spear gun and pulling the trigger with an inarticulate cry. The spear shot out, catching the monster between the eyes and sinking deep into the turgid flesh. He wrenched at the line, meaning to tear the barbs through the awful creature’s head. Instead the spear came back without resistance, nearly unbalancing him, and the wound closed over the hole he had made.

  Catching up the spear, he struggled to reload. The beast was turning, its great eyes fixing on him, a tentacle snaking towards him. Again he fired, hitting an eye, but to no effect, the line slack as he pulled, the eye undamaged. He backed, slipping on the rock. A tentacle lashed out, catching him, wrapping around him and pinning his arms to his sides. He struggled, using the strength of desperation, but to no avail. Another tentacle caught him, and a third, around his legs, and he was being drawn in, dragged inexorably towards the bulk of the monster.

  He screamed, the sound echoing from the walls of the chamber. The beast reared, exposing its underside, the opening to the mantle from which Lily’s blonde hair still hung, and the central mouth, with the parrot-like beak opening, then shutting with a horrid, clacking sound. Again he screamed, gripping uselessly at the sand. The torch flew from his hand, sending a beam upwards, to briefly illuminate a high red ceiling, carved with symbols and pictures. Blackness engulfed him as the torch burst on rock. The weight of the monster came down on him, crushing him, even as the beak closed on the muscles of his belly and tore into his squirming flesh.

  Epilogue

  Joe drained the last of his coffee and stood up. The throb of the engines came up through the deck, making the ferry shudder as she turned away from the dock. From the window he could see the Roscoff terminal, bright in June sunlight. It had been a long drive, hauling Spanish tractor components up from Barcelona, and he needed sleep, but he was determined to at least scan the beach for a glimpse of nubile female flesh as the ferry pulled clear of port.

  Clutching his binoculars, he made his way to the upper deck. It was hot, and crowded, including more than a few French schoolgirls of seventeen or eighteen in tight, bottom-hugging jeans or even shorts that left slices of creamy cheek showing at each side. He smiled to himself, wishing he had more hair left and less of a paunch.

  Going to the rail, he steadied the binoculars, indifferent to the attention of those around him as he focused on the beach. Several girls were visible, sunbathing, bikini-clad or topless, one on her back, fine young breasts bare to the sun. A boat blocked his view as the ferry swung round and he changed his angle, focusing on the Ile de Batz. A couple caught his eye, the girl shamelessly topless, walking beside her man without the least trace of self-consciousness. With a pang of jealousy he followed them, watching the gentle sway of the girl’s hips and the movement of her breasts. An outlying rock cut off his view and he clicked his tongue in frustration, moving his view, only to move quickly back.

  There were two people on the rock. Girls, standing, and not just topless, but stark, totally naked. Both were black haired, around twenty, one full-figured, one small-breasted but with a fine, cheeky bottom. His eyes locked to the bigger girl’s breasts, huge globes of flesh, yet extraordinarily firm, breasts he had seen before. With a start of surprise he realised that the girl was Tammy, could only be Tammy, the wonderful girl he had met in
Tawmouth, years before, while her companion, for all her long dark hair, was Lily Tompkins.

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