She came to me during the Transit of Venus.
The world was blue-gray at dusk. I went to the beach to dry out, to forget, to find some peace.
I’d been a reporter when the war started. Which war? One of them; they weren’t numbered anymore. Some reaction to some act of horror and we sent a thousand young people to a desert somewhere. It wasn’t important anymore.
I was working for the AP. I’d traveled to Kuwait first, then Kutar. During one of the endless rides across the barren plains, the world exploded into fire. I saw three kids melt in front of me. Three others were torn apart. I only lost my arm.
A few years later, my parents died and left me enough money that I didn’t have to try and act whole enough to fit in with other reporters. I didn’t have to sit on planes and watch as the people next to me tried not to stare at my hook or my plastic hand.
I sold their houses and their cars and their stocks and even my father’s damn horses. I bought a place by the beach. I found solace in the sea. I found comfort in the silence. I found peace under the stars.
She came to me after I spent a whole year staring at the waves every night. Somehow I knew she was out there waiting. Somehow I knew she would come.
After a long late Spring day, after looking at the strange dot going across the sun with the special glasses I got in town, after wondering how much longer I could go on, she came.
Mermaid? Nereid? There were so many names. She didn’t really fit any of them. She was there, though, walking out of the sea. Walking right into my arms.
She didn’t speak, at least not with words. I knew her name, though. She was Sylphe. She had always been Sylphe, and she had always lived in the sea. She saw me looking out at the sea every night. She saw my loneliness, and she wanted to help me. She wanted to hold me.
We fell in love as Venus swam between the Earth and the sun. We made love as the waves crashed. She kissed me, and I felt whole, if just for a few hours.
She slept in my arms, and we were one.
The next day we swam and laughed. She dove down into the deep and brought back oysters for me. She knew which ones had pearls.
When the sunset, I held her on the rocks, and she cried. I didn’t understand, really, but somehow I knew that all things had a price. She belonged to the sea, and I knew that all things return to the sea.
That night we made love one last time. Her body was slick and sinewy. She tasted like the deep ocean, like sea urchin, like wind from the river at night. When I came inside of her, her body sucked at my cock, pulling at me, savoring every drop of me.
Then the sea came to take her back.
In my dreams, I saw the shadow of the thing. I saw it crawling out of the Mariana Trench. It screamed under the sea, and sharks fled in fear. It screamed that a god would not be made a cuckold of. I saw it slipping through the water at unknowable speeds. It reached out. It grew and elongated. It was angry and jealous, and aroused. In my dreams, I could see it get to the beach, and its tentacles rose out of the water and smelled for her. It sensed our heat and read our pheromones. The whole story of our love, our fucking, spelled out in little chains of protein in the air, on the sheets, even in the water.
It was sending me these images, penetrating my dreams, showing me as it crept into my house, into my room.
There were thirteen tentacles. Some as thick as my leg, some as thin as fingers. They slipped under the covers on the bed and pulled them off her. They were silent. They were hungry. They were angry and possessive, and they wanted her back, but first, they would show me. They would take her in ways I couldn’t imagine.
I tried to awaken as the thick ebony tendrils slipped around her legs. I could only watch, trapped inside of my dreaming body, as they pulled her legs apart. I could smell her seafoam scent, fresh and filled with memories. I could see the gleaming tip of the tentacle as it dragged itself along her inner thigh and then paused as it regarded the wet crease between her legs, still moist from our coupling, glossy where my seed dripped from her.
I laughed in my dream because it couldn’t take that from me. It would only be second tonight, only using what I had used first. It didn’t like that.
Other tentacles wrapped around her. When her eyes opened, and her mouth parted to scream, one of the tentacles slipped between her lips and swallowed the sound. Her eyes bulged as the thick tentacle tensed and pushed itself down her throat. Another wrapped around her naked waist, mocking me by wrapping around each of her breasts the way my hands once did. Her pale skin and its bluish tinge turned purple as her breasts were bound and make into taught spheres.
The thicker tentacle between her legs surged forward, and she tried to scream, but the one in her mouth just pushed down into her body again. I saw another snake its way under the one pushing into her cunt. I remembered how she felt, her slick tightness, as I watched it push further into her as another found its way into her ass.
I awoke to the sound of her pelvis cracking.
I tried to fight them back, but they were as strong as steel. More thick appendages entered my room and bound my hands and legs. I was on top of my love, watching the tears fall down her cheeks. I started to whisper that I loved her, but the thick rubbery skin of a tentacle was suddenly in my mouth. It tasted of moist dirt and salt, and then I was filled with the fear of drowning.
It penetrated me from behind. I’d never felt that sort of pressure. There was pain, but it was so enormous it seemed distant. It wrapped around my penis as well, latching on and enveloping it in a little mouth at the end of one larger tentacle.
I saw Sylphe’s eyes roll back. Her body shook and contorted with some new feeling. I saw the tentacles ungulate and pulsate as they pumped something into her.
Just before I passed out, I felt the tentacle in my mouth, now down my throat, give me some air. It breathed into me, and I felt tingling, burning heat inside of my body. I felt it shooting something into my ass as well, even surrounding my penis with something. Then the pleasure started. It was no pleasure for my sake, but just some after effect of this unknowable creature’s dark work.
The pleasure started as a low buzz, but soon my cock was painfully hard, the muscles in my ass contracted as my prostate was suckled from the inside. Then the pleasure was so intense my mind short-circuited. I saw Sylphe coming again and again under me as the tentacles were now everywhere, pain in my head as they pierced my ears, my nostrils, even covering and sucking at my eyes. All the world was the dark god of the sea.
I awoke days later on the beach.
Sylphe was nowhere to be seen. Looking down the surf, I saw the debris that was now all that was left of my home.
My body felt raw, every step painful. My mouth and eyes burned. Every other part of me felt stretched and swollen.
Looking down at sudden movement, I saw that the lower part of my arm that had been taken in the war, was now a black tentacle. It slithered and coiled as my mind tried to understand how to make it work. I saw that it could split and become three tentacles, and in the center of where they split, there was a mouth filled with tiny teeth.
I never saw Sylphe again, nor did I ever see the dark god that lives beneath the waves. I was changed, though, in more ways than my arm… but that is another story.