by Drake Penn
If his parents noticed his new love of high collared shirts, they didn't mention.
He skips the next two days of fishing, opting instead to do as much research on the internet as he can manage in hopes of finding anything of use. His searches for "tentacle mermaid man" "glowy octopus person vibrations horny" "cryptid fuck me????" and "do octopus cum" turn up some very interesting, but very unhelpful results. He checks out the local library instead and flips through every local legend and conspiracy theory he can find.
A long and rambling article references a "race of intelligent undersea life" that sounds promising until it dead ends; the author was just overselling a new research paper on dolphins. Figures.
If anyone else knows about something like this, they're keeping an awful tight lid on it.
Gareth sighs and heads back home; he's supposed to carry his parent's new couch downstairs today and he's getting nowhere fast here. After he's done he spends some time messaging his Chicago friends before he pulls his hair out.
G-Dog: hey whats a monster thats human up top and octopus below
Juiced n Loosed: wtf are u talking about
Coochie Crusader: ursula?????
G-Dog: like a mermaid but half octo
G-Dog: and a guy
RobLobster: Are you looking at furry shit?
RobLobster: Is this your fursona?
Coochie Crusader: Gareth is your fursona dude ursula
Coochie Crusader: legally you have to tell me
G-Dog: Amanda you *know* mines a kingfisher come on I was assigned that at birth
Juiced n Loosed: is this a porn thing
RobLobster: It's totally a porn thing.
RobLobster: Gareth buddy you've been typing a rebuttal for like two minutes
Coochie Crusader: its nbd if ur cranking ur hog to octopus dick
Coochie Crusader: I kno theres good octopussy out there Im not judging
G-Dog: man fuck you guys
He tosses his phone across the bed and flops backwards. He lays there for about thirty seconds before compulsively reaching to his pocket for his phone and having a brief moment of panic that he's lost it only to remember that he literally just threw it himself.
It's almost time for dinner anyways, so he retrieves it, pointedly ignores the swarm of notifications flashing on the screen, and heads down the hall to see if his mom needs any help and busies himself with clean up until the three of them sit down to eat together.
"Gareth you've been awful quiet, is everything alright?" His mother asks him after a stretch of silence.
"Huh? Oh yeah, just, uh, zoning out." He looks down at his half eaten plate of linguine and pointedly takes another bite.
"Somethin' on your mind?" His dad asks.
"It's… probably nothing you guys wanna hear about." He deflects.
"Is it about…" His father gestures vaguely, struggling to get the words out. "...a guy?"
This would be an awkward conversation under the best of circumstances, with his father's belaboured attempts at being accepting, but given the extra wrinkle of the guy being a ten foot long tentacle monster? It's unbearable.
"Dad–"
"It's good! If that's the case." He makes eye contact briefly and breaks it again. "Just, uh, I don't know if many guys here are… of your persuasion...?"
"You can say gay, dad, it's not a bad word."
"I know I just– I mean maybe he swings both ways!"
"Bisexual isn't a bad word either." Gareth laughs.
"Cut him some slack dear, he's old." His mom cuts in. "But if you do find someone here being them 'round for dinner. You're not off the hook for giving me grandbabies just because you don't like girls anymore."
Gareth buries his face in his hands and groans. There's so much wrong with everything they're both saying that it'd take an hour to hold their hands through it and then they'll say the same things again tomorrow anyways.
She relents and dinner moves on to more comfortable topics like the housing market, and taxes.
It's easy enough to call it a night early and sneak off to the boat in the middle of the night again–this time with a spare set of clothes and a wrist strap for his flashlight–and makes his way back to that distant reef. The engine putters to a stop and the world is silent outside of the splash of waves against the hull of his "borrowed" boat, and he's stricken with a moment of hesitation.
This is so, so stupid.
If he gets drowned or eaten or torn limb from limb by a horny monster his parents will be left all by themselves to put together a closed casket funeral for their only son. He can't even really talk to this thing outside of a sexual red light green light.
He looks up at the sky and the stars are so bright out here, far away from the rest of the world. How many more stars are still out there that no one's seen? People have nobly given their lives pursuing them, and he's getting cold feet when he's got a genuine scientific marvel on his hands? Fuck that.
Gareth pulls on his snorkel and dives. It's cold and dark but he's got his bearings this time and cuts through the water like a knife, moving into the cave at speed with the confidence of his flashlight. He makes it all the way into the pool at the mouth of the cavern before he swings his light around and spots King flattened against the rocks, looking like a cat lining up to pounce. A rumble hits him in the chest. He bolts for the surface but King is faster, latching on to him and circling his waist. He struggles to keep kicking and manages to breach the surface and suck in a breath before getting dragged back down.
"King please let me get my wetsuit off I can't afford a new one every time please–"
He kicks with his one free leg as his mask is pulled off and manages to get his arm free enough to yank the zipper down his front. King's tentacles light up and rapidly enter to curl against his warm, freshly exposed skin and squirm under the neoprene, shucking it off of him in fits and jerks until it's hanging around his hips. It takes some work but with King more occupied with his top half Gareth is able to resurface. He goes back under abruptly and feels tentacles worming into his pants.
King runs his hand through Gareth's hair, watching closely as it sways under the water, playing with it with equal attention as the tentacles starting to wrap around his cock. Gareth's getting light-headed, the combination of repeated submersions and stimulation getting to him, and he tries to kick to the surface again. King pulls off his flippers and wetsuit and envelops him with a rumble, working his powerful tentacles against the straining muscles of Gareth's thighs. He pulls back in surprise when Gareth makes a pained noise that unleashes a trail of bubbles; he runs his hands across Gareth's ribs in a searching motion.
The edges of Gareth's vision go dark.
King pulls him upwards and watches Gareth cough and breathe heavily. He pulls one of Gareth's hands to his own gills that snap open and closed and he rumbles in an up and down tone.
"I don't have those." He shakes his head.
King makes a clicking noise and pushes hard at the space between Gareth's ribs while holding his hand against his gills and pointedly opening them.
"Hey, ow, no, those are bones, that doesn't open."
King seems to get frustrated and gives up, pushing Gareth back through the water to the bank where they had their first tryst. He's more ready for him this time–eager, if he's honest–but the speed at which a slick tentacle enters his throat still catches him off guard. The salt is still present but there's an underlying touch of sweetness dripping down his throat that he didn't notice last time that makes him want more. King takes a leisurely pace, plunging his tentacle in deep and withdrawing until the tip drags across his tongue and Gareth sucks on it greedily. His ass is penetrated next with the same pace and he feels himself heat up as it thrusts deeper. A second coils around the first and enters, prodding along his passage until it brushes against his prostate and he groans around the tentacle pumping away in his throat and covers his face with his elbow in embarrassment. King pulls his arm back from his head sternl
y and pins it there with a growl, watching intently as he bumps against the sensitive bundle with his tentacle experimentally.
"Fuck, you're gonna milk me dry like that King." He pants out when the tentacle retreats from his throat and he writhes when he's skewered once more.
King increases the pace and loops a tentacle around his twitching cock. The cool, slick skin lights up with multicolored fluorescent spots and rings, pulsing in patterns that are hard to tear his eyes from, his cock emerging and vanishing into them in time with the thrusts deep inside his ass. He stares dumbly, a pleasant stupor overcoming him in waves. He barely recognizes the mewl he makes as his own when a massive orgasm cuts through him, splattering his abdomen and King's tentacles with hot cum. King works him through it, humming with apparent satisfaction, and pauses when Gareth stops moving, gently tugging on his tongue with the small suckers at the tip of his tentacle.
"You're a real fucking fast learner."
King chirps and thrusts enthusiastically. A groan punches through him like getting kicked by a horse and it rapidly spirals into a feedback loop of his reactions pushing King harder, faster, deeper, tighter. His body accommodates whatever King does, his throat and guts accepting him in readily despite the obscene depths they plunge to and the girth that forces him open, reshaping him to fit his whims. The lights start up again and strobe in time with his heartbeat in whorls that make him light headed until he cums with blinding intensity. Gareth whimpers out a prayer against the tentacle so far down his throat that he imagines he can feel it curling in his stomach, the sweet taste of it filling his mouth as it slowly pulls out. He sucks in air and lies in a boneless heap while King rumbles on top of him, seemingly satisfied with their encounter.
When feeling returns to his legs he shifts to sitting and watches King busy himself in the cave. He carefully scrapes the glowing algae from the wet rocks and redistributes it to new corners, expanding how far Gareth can see into the back of the cave without his flashlight. He passes by Gareth and grabs his face, squeezing his cheeks and stuffing a fistful of the same glowing algae into his mouth, pressing it down his throat with a long finger when he tries to jerk away and spit it out. It tastes strong–deeply sour and briny–but he suffers through it, chewing through the mouthful while King clicks at him.
He swallows and sticks out his tongue to prove to King he ate his greens.
"Happy now, you dick?"
King pulls him close and into what constitutes his lap, pressing their palms together in an imitation of what Gareth had done previously.
"Man… What have I gotten myself into?" He laughs as he feels a thick slime leaking down his thighs. "Did you cum in my ass or is that just that shit that was coming off your tentacles?"
King trills back softly.
"I'm not mad! You can pump whatever you want up there if that's what gets you off. I’m kind of a slut."
He curls his fingers against King's palm. King closes his webbed hand over Gareth's fist, enclosing it completely.
"You're… really fucking cool. Like… probably the coolest thing I've ever seen. And it's real selfish of me to keep you a secret but, it's scary, ya know? You never know how other people are gonna react."
He knows, logically, that King doesn't understand him, not at that level, but when King rubs circles in the small of his back with his dark tentacle it's hard to stop himself from believing. They sit together for a long time, slow and gentle touches connecting them. It's been a while since Gareth's been with anyone–he was always too busy or too unlucky to land anything more than a casual hookup in recent years–and this tender contact scratches an itch he didn't know he had.
"Keep this up and I'm gonna fall for ya. Wouldn't that be wild, some real fucked up Beauty and the Beast shit." He murmurs into the soft skin of King's chest. "Man, I have gotta stop trying to relate you to Disney shit. They would never green light all this gay tentacle sex."
He laughs and King makes a huffing noise through his gills in the same rhythm.
"Aw shit King, that's cute."
It's hard to tear himself away from this small Eden he's found, but he won't risk other people finding out about it just because he's a cuddler. He has to dive to retrieve his wetsuit and gear but it's in one piece this time, leaving the extra set of clothes in the boat as an unnecessary precaution.
Safe inside of his bed in the few hours before dawn, he dreams about King.
***
Daylight streams through his blinds. It's nearly noon and he still feels exhausted, slowly rolling over in bed and playing on his phone, unwilling to commit to truly joining the world of the living yet. The news is garbage, so he ignores it. His social media is boring to even scroll idly through and he gives up, finally returning to his group chat.
G-Dog: hey
Coochie Crusader: gareth!!!!! you didnt get eaten by a shark!!!!!!!!!!!!
RobLobster: Bro you were MIA for so long.
G-Dog: clingy!!
G-Dog: I can be busy for a night
Juiced n Loosed: Ill forgive you if you were being gay and/or doing crimes
Juiced n Loosed: ;) ;) ;)
G-Dog: you're underestimating me. I do gay crimes
Coochie Crusader: yooooooo did you get some??? did you get that southern dick?????
Juiced n Loosed: king
Gareth feels his heart rate spike with a rush of adrenaline. The irrational spike of fear that they know, somehow, before his brain wakes up enough to catch up that it's a compliment on his sexual prowess, not calling out the monster he's been getting railed by by name.
RobLobster: What was the crime part?
G-Dog: it was in public
G-Dog: on a beach
Coochie Crusader: yooooo i want a beach slut!! so jelly
Juiced n Loosed: Gareth is the beach slut
G-Dog: that'll be my next tattoo
RobLobster: Get it as a tramp stamp.
G-Dog: yes sir~ ;)
Juiced n Loosed: take your shitty erp to DMs whore
G-Dog: aww jealous I'm getting mad lay huh? ;)
Juiced n Loosed: just don't come crying to me when you get sand up your ass :P
Coochie Crusader: ugghhghhghhh if u werent in the whitest white bread city in the fucking world you kno my black ass would be opening some eyes to the gay agenda
G-Dog: I know this Amanda, and I love you
G-Dog: Viv they would straight up kill you if you tried to fuck out here. Its not even funny
Juiced n Loosed: smh
Juiced n Loosed: too weak to handle how hot I am
Juiced n Loosed: Only our favorite white boy Rob can enter that wretched hive of heteronormativity
RobLobster: :D
G-Dog: Bro I already bagged the only gay in town
RobLobster: :'(
G-Dog: <3
Gareth closes the chat with a grin and stretches with a groan, checking through all of his various aches and pains. He's sore as shit and isn't looking forward to much movement, but given what he's gone through he's almost surprised it's not worse. He spends the next two days puttering around the house and teasing his friends, who have built up an elaborate and wildly incorrect idea of his current sex life, until he gets stir crazy–and horny–enough to sneak down to the docks.
He's barely made it to the mouth of the crevasse before King wraps a tentacle around his waist like a noose from the darkness and hauls him through the rocky tunnel, flashing orange as he goes. It's disorienting, but Gareth is clawing at his mask to pull it off and flinging it onto the cavern floor the second he hits the surface, the glowing algae shining more brightly when splashed. King reorients Gareth to his liking in an awkward tango to get out of his wetsuit, but pauses when he sees Gareth's face. He pushes at the metal balls under his lips, at the barbell through his eyebrow, and the loops and studs in his ears.
"Like 'em?" Gareth gives a cocksure grin. “Thought I’d leave ‘em in this time.”
King pulls gently on the loop through his ear, increasing pressur
e until it hurts and Gareth tries to pull his hand away.
"No, fuck, stop, they're not–Ow!"
King lets go of it. Gareth rubs his smarting ear. King starts pulling on the spider bite studs through his lip. Gareth acts on instinct and bites down on King's hand, hard, and King hisses like a tea kettle, wrestling his hand away and retreating into the water, only visible from his eyes up.
They stare each other down, and Gareth breaks first.
"I'm sorry. That was mean."
The water swells around King in delicate arcs as he re-emerges and slides across Gareth's prone form. He thumbs at the barbell in his right ear cautiously, tentacles slowly moving against his ribs, and Gareth stays still. King tries to pull again and Gareth hisses once, sharply, and that gets King to stop immediately.
Communication!
It takes a few more repeats to make King understand that no, he cannot pull on any of Gareth's piercings, but it's cute how fascinated he is with them. Gareth lets King play with them, the dexterous tips of his tentacles gently twisting and looping around them like ribbons, and kisses along the side of one as it routes towards the silver barbell at his brow. The lights flare up under his lips and he kisses more, pulling the limb to him and sucking like he would to leave a hickey on someone's throat. He sits up chasing a wild urge and King lets him, readjusting himself to give Gareth access. It's a stupid desire–as most of his are–and almost certainly meaningless to King, but he kisses his way up King's neck to the scaly plates of his face that he has to stand to reach and back down, stopping on the light blue-grey skin of the hollow of his throat to suck a bruise into. It comes up deep purple, an undeniable mark that Gareth was here, and that he was trusted. He dips back down to work along King's broad, smooth chest, tracing the contours of the light skin to the gill slits at the rib line's dappled boundary with the darkened, rough skin wrapping his back. He runs his flattened tongue along the slit and looks up at King, searching for any disapproval. When none is apparent he presses his tongue in and hums, the gill fluttering against him. King grabs his head and rumbles back.
