To the reader opening an incognito tab, late at night, hidden from everybody you know; I'm Lover_Often_Tickles, and I'm so glad you clicked on this story. To the reader brazenly scrolling in full view of their partner, boss, and God; I salute you, King.
This will be an ongoing series about a young scientist and her experiences with tentacles, so you've been warned. No bestiality occurs in this story, but there will be plenty of monsterfucking.
I'm very open to feedback, since porn isn't what I usually write. Thanks for reading!
"It's not you. It's me." I lock my phone, shove it in my sweater, and pull open the door to the lab. My soon-to-be ex-boyfriend doesn't need a response right now, and I'm on the clock anyway.
The Brookridge aquarium has been paying me to study intelligence in octopuses for the last three weeks, and I can't really complain. These little critters are surprisingly crafty, which keeps the work interesting. It's also nigh impossible to find work with only a BS in Marine Bio, and this gig only takes 10 hours a week. Between work, competitive surfing, and glancing at the occasional textbook, my schedule is packed.
I switch into my work crocs and put on my lab coat, checking myself in the mirror before I visit the subjects. My curly brown hair was in a bun this morning, but with how much volume I have, it rarely survives for more than an hour. I try halfheartedly to pull it into place. It's just going to escape again later. The combo of lab coat, snug sweater, and leggings has become all too comfortable these past weeks. Based on the looks I get from my boss, she's either jealous of my comfort or wishing we had a less professional relationship. It's probably the former, since she calls me "intern" to keep me in my place.
My phone buzzes again, and as soon as I see who it's from, I shut it off entirely. Despite the year we had been together, my boyfriend had decided last week that we weren't sexually compatible. Sure, I had been a bit demanding, but I eased him into it. We started with handcuffs, moved on to blindfolds, and had barely dabbled in the simplest Shibari knots. He didn't need to pretend to be into my kink the entire time; he could have brought this up well before I started seeing a future with him. But no, he had to find some other girl that was more vanilla. He's still trying to be nice about it, and I appreciate that... but it still hurts, and not in the good way. Guess I'll have to start looking again.
I enter the lab and flick the lights on. I catch the faintest glow from the corner of the room before the lights illuminate the space, but I don't think anything of it. The lab is surprisingly comfortable, given the experiments that go on here. A couch and loveseat sit in one corner, pointed at a TV showing Planet Earth at all hours of the day. A couple industrial carts for transporting tanks are piled in another, and the kitchenette fills a third. The workstations are in the last corner, and have been getting messier every day since I started. The East and West wall are floor-to-ceiling tanks, filled with the octopuses themselves. I press the button to raise the automatic shade that gives them privacy and verify that all 24 are still there.
I check the log on my desk, seeing the last shift's notes from my boss. We started alternating shifts after the second week, so it's unlikely that I'll see her today. Helen is a good boss, even if her passion for biology far exceeds my own. She's 40, single, and has made no secret of her plans to be "on the market" till the day she dies. Sometimes I feel like she's teaching me more about relationships than biology, and I have no problem with that. She's a very generous mentor, when she's not calling me an intern.
Her notes say the octopuses are all doing well, except for #17. Apparently she was cleaning her own enclosure obsessively last night, for whatever reason. My boss wasn't worried, but wanted to know if she was still doing it in the morning. So I pull a chair over to her tank, expecting to see nothing of note. Fortunately, it was anything but.
17 was always the smartest octopus we had at the aquarium. She's tried to escape three times since I started working here, two of which were on my watch. Right now she had her back to me, all eight tentacles drawing little circles in the sand. It almost looks like writing, but that was impossible. Octopuses were barely able to use tools consistently, there was no way she had mastered the written word!
I run to get my camera, and when I come back, she's stopped entirely. Her eyes are closed, her tentacles are holding each other, and she appears to be perfectly still in the water. I can barely believe my eyes, but I dash to the door to flip the room lights off. I turn back towards the tank... and 17's enclosure is glowing.
I'm suddenly aware of how quiet the lab is, save for the gurgle of the tank filters and a sleeping elephant on Planet Earth. As I step closer, not daring to make a sound for fear of interrupting, I see shapes in the sand take form. Swirling runes of inhuman origin rise from the sand, encircling the octopus that drew them. She remains still, but I can see her color changing impossibly fast. The runes swirl around her, creating a perfect sphere of moving light.
At the instant the sphere closes, the light goes out, and the room is pitch black. I'm holding my breath, completely at a loss to explain what just happened. The sound of a wet squelch on tile knocks me out of my stupor, and I realize the truth of the situation. 17 escaped again, that bitch!
I fumble my way through the dark, cursing my unpowered cell phone. My foot catches on something wet and squishy, and I blindly tumble to the floor. My heart sinks, hoping against hope that 17 didn't make it out yet and I hadn't just squished the life out of her. I make it to the wall, flip the switch on, and turn towards the tanks. Standing in the middle of the room is a 6-foot tall man with the head of an octopus.
I immediately realize three things. First, my Fight or Flight response is heavily biased towards the latter. Second, in situations of extreme confusion I appear to be bad at Flight and freeze up instead. And third, octopus #17 is safely in her tank, pressed up against the glass in awe. That just leaves the thing standing in the middle of my lab, looking dead at me.
The creature in front of me is only visible from the neck up, the rest of it being covered in dark green robes. Its head isn't 100% octopus, but it's definitely not human. It must be some hybrid of the two; a bulbous skull and a pair of large cephalopod eyes over a mass of tentacles where a beard and mouth would be.
The Marine Biologist half of my brain is wondering what purpose the tentacles on its face serve when the creature reveals more tentacles under its robe. They slink towards me frighteningly quickly, indicating there's far more tentacle under the robe than it would need to stand up.
Four tentacles wrap around my arms and legs, encircling me with surprising strength. They're powerful, but also incredibly dexterous. I'm fascinated just long enough that by the time I remember to scream, there's a fifth tentacle wrapping around my mouth. It's even more confusing that instead of an acrid, damp taste like you would expect from a sea creature, the flavor I get before I close my mouth reminds me of the mildly salty taste of human sweat. The tentacle is covered in soft ridges, like a handle designed for grip. But now that I'm fully restrained and can't scream for help, Fight is starting to take over. I flail my limbs, struggling to absolutely no avail.
