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  • R. S. Lachrymose

Tentacles (Cathedral IV)

After the intensity of the scene I witnessed, I welcomed a moment of reprieve. The deity column slowly swayed upon its base now, the Succubus seemingly within its depths. Sitting upon the cold stone floor, I was able to collect my thoughts. What I witnessed shattered my ideas of deity worship. Gone was the stagnant voices raised in half-hearted unison. No lethargic collection of bodies gathered around a singular person, each as still and trite as a tree in a forest. This was passionate, raw, vulgar. Yet still it stirred something within me. Questions, revulsion, desire.


While lost in my reverie, the tentacled columns begins to move more violently, increasing in fervor and wrenching me back to my macabre reality. At the base, a shadow seems to separate from the host with movement of its own. This shape, more soft, peels away with squelching gesture. Now appears an effigy of the great column, yet smaller, more feminine. But what perversion is this? I see the voluptuous curves of the Succubus molded into a tentacle creature. Her tendrils stretch and explore their new form, still drenched in that viscous substance. Glowing eyes search the cathedral, as a cat searching for a mouse.


I knew I should run, hide, save myself from this new terror, but my body seemed to halt as my heart had. I was transfixed by her heaving chest. Her writhing, pulsating form. A darkness within was torn between the desire to flee and the desire to be found, to be violated and consumed. Despite radiant eyes that remained from its previous host, the being appeared to see through its tentacles, exploring and probing as it moved. And as it explored, I found myself affixed to where I lay. Almost hoping it found me, while I cursed myself for my perversion at the thought of what would happen if discovered.


Heart bounding, the tentacle being glided over the empty pews. It caressed and fondled every surface, as though deriving pleasure from the softest touch. Ever closer it drew to me, until I could begin to feel a heat radiating from it. A stray tendril crept toward me. Inches away, it shuddered, relishing new prey. While simply a sliver of skin showed above my worn boots, it was drawn immediately to my exposure. The wave of heat and euphoria that engulfed me was indescribable. The feeling so foreign, so unknown to my being, that I convulsed into spasms, retching upon the floor.


Instantly, the entity shuddered and emitted a moan, then erratically converged all its dripping tentacles toward me. Fear, deepest fear, not of the entity, but of the animal that roared against long-built shackles within my soul erupted. And in spite of every instinct screaming to let this atrocity have me, I ran as though the life I had known for so long now depended on it.

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