Mythical — 100 words from the abyss
I drew the symbols. I read the chants. I succumbed to madness.
Now the indescribable thing reaches through the slopping waves to land limbs on my flesh. But they’re not limbs, and what they do can barely be defined as touch at all.
They’re tentacles; oil-slick black, iridescent purple and green. They slip, suck, probe and penetrate — they could destroy me.
A sucker cups my clit, pulsating, plucking, manipulating it with a deep thrumming rhythm. The mythical thing’s slimy secretions drench me, and multiple writhing arms dive inside me.
I scream without speaking, tight-lipped;
“Fuck me into oblivion!”
It hears.
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