The Little God (v2.1)

Version 2.1
Tags: Human girl/tentacle monster, consentacles, best friends
An attempt at consentacles and sweetness in a setting with definite Call of Cthulhu influence. Maybe not all cults are that bad like a century after they're established? Ctrl+f for “CHAPTER 2” to get to the second installment that I added in if you only read the first chunk ages ago.


My best friend, a little god, has lived with me since I was born and he was just a grub. He was only as large as a cat then, and milky white in color while I was a baby of average size and rosy complexion. When I was a toddler, I could pick him up and carry him around under my arm or over my shoulder. Being shaped like a nub-covered jelly bean at that stage, he was easy to move and I liked having him around for his company. He enjoyed the same games I did, we've always been a perfect pair. At night, he sleeps in my bed with me, cuddled up. I listen to his heartbeats to fall asleep. That's been my entire life.

This is how it is for everyone here, and I never gave it a second thought until the day when I learned that people outside of our haven only had a human population. The instructors told us this when we were three or four years old to hit home how lucky we all were to have been paired at birth with the little gods, the species that my Friend is a part of. We were all taught, human and little god alike, that though the little gods were rare, their population had grown significantly over the last century, since the start of our colony. But the population had been stagnant in both human and little gods since around the time of my birth.

When I was five, my Friend underwent a large growth spurt. I could no longer carry him around, as he weighed more than I did. He was three feet long and about that in diameter at his widest point in the middle. His arms/tendrils/tentacles grew in all the way, allowing him to grab things and pull himself on top of things instead of only slithering, inching, and flopping as he had done for years.

He doesn't have a face. He has a front, which is one end of his pillbug-shaped body. There are two nostrils on top of his front and he can shut them whenever he pleases. It's good for swimming in the summer when we all go down to the lake and the little gods float with their arms trawling the bottom of the lake and we can hang onto them in the sun.

Mostly, his skin is just very sensitive at his front. He sees and hears with his skin. His mouth is on his underside, farther down, near his tail. It is massive thing, huge and full of rows of teeth. He's let me play with his tongue before, a large muscle that he can stick out and wave around. His saliva is slimy and hard to wipe off of anything. When his mouth is closed, you would never even know it was there, which is why he can slither and slip over the ground without tasting dirt. He only eats meat, as far as we both know. Our community keeps numerous pigs and chickens and cattle to keep all our little gods fed.

His arms can stretch out, or recede back to nubs at his sides, and all together he has a dozen of them.

For years he grew at the same pace I did, until we were sixteen or seventeen, and were summoned by the elders. It had never happened to me, or to anyone my age, so my Friend and I went humbly and with quite a lot of nervousness. The priests, humans in dark robes with their little god partners painted with black tattoos, looked us over, then nodded to each other. The little gods paired with adults are usually about six feet long and about that girthy at their thickest. My Friend picked the first third of his body up off the ground respectfully. It made him look alert. I was incredibly nervous and afraid, and put a hand on his smooth side.

One of the little god priests spoke finally, addressing her words to my Friend. "You are unlike the rest of us. You should not expect to stop growing." She extended  one of her tentacles to touch the front of his body, what would have been his face. I knew she was a female not from the voice in my head, but from her tentacles. Females and males are usually impossible to tell apart until you see their foremost tentacles—females have sockets in the tips. Usually we just go by the sex of the human partner, since we always pair females to males and males to females.

I saw my Friend out of the corner of my eye, saw his surprise as he tensed, though he disguised it. He didn't really know what to say, I think, because neither of us knew that there existed the slightest possibility that there could be more. His arms quivered in excitement, he had so many questions for them, but knew he would not be allowed to ask. I was just as curious, but I was also afraid of any changes that may come. I did not want my perfect Friendship to be changed. What if he got too big to fit in my bed? How would we sleep?

In the end, they just assured us both that he would know what to do when the time came. We were both told to trust my friend's instincts, and that accommodations of all kinds would be made for us as necessary. We both sensed that there was something we were not being told, and discussed it that night before we went to sleep.

"What do you think will happen?" I asked him softly.

"I don't know," he admitted, and he coiled his twelve arms around me.

“Do you think that the priests are… keeping something from us? I never thought that maybe they might before now, but…” I trailed off when I spoke. “But, I never even knew that this was possible. That a little god like you could keep growing. Why didn’t they tell us?”

“I don’t know,” he said again. “I don’t like them keeping secrets from us.”

---

Life continued as normal for a few weeks, until he woke me up one night. "I'm starving," he told me, and took my hand.

He pulled me to my feet and made me go with him to the community kitchens. I was sure they would turn us away for being out past curfew or wanting food that wasn't allotted to us, but we were allowed in. The human who stood guard that night didn't seem to understand why he'd been told to let us by, but his little god partner waved at us happily when we went through to the food storage, and she wished my Friend a happy meal. I waved back to her and smiled, but my Friend didn't seem to think he had the time, he was so hungry.

"Do you remember?" My  Friend asked as he slithered to the back where the meat is kept. It always surprises me how fast he can move when he is motivated. I have to run to keep up with him sometimes. "They said that they'd make accommodations for us."

That night he ate more than I've ever seen him eat. At first he was slow, chewing a chicken and crunching the bones, but after fifteen minutes and three whole chickens, he told me that this was not fast enough. He rolled onto his side and opened his huge mouth for me and asked me nicely to feed him. I tossed fistful after fistful of ground beef to him, and by the end of an hour, he had eaten almost a third of his weight in assorted meats.

I sat on the floor rubbing his underside while he lay in a food coma. His tongue lolled out from between his teeth. I poked it to tease him, and to retaliate he slurped at my hand and coated it in his saliva before pulling it back into his mouth. I wiped my hand on him.

"You got fat," I told him truthfully, but I was smiling at him while rubbing his distended belly.

He sighed, one of the few sounds he makes with his body instead of his mind. Sighs, grunts, growls, and purrs are the best he can do, and indeed after a few minutes of letting me rub his stomach, I made him purr. "At least I'm not hungry anymore. Don't stop rubbing."

"I'll rub you more when we get back to the room," I told him, and got up after patting his side. He sighed again and used his thick arms to right himself. He didn't slither back this time, he mostly dragged himself, and I walked slowly next to him, through the compound courtyard, back to our building that we share with our age mates, to our shared room. No one was awake, and we entered quietly. I watched my friend try and fail to get onto the bed twice before succeeding. I heard him groan in my head, then he rolled on his side again to bare his belly.

"Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself?" I asked. I lay next to him and rubbed his stomach while he wrapped me in his arms.

"I'm sure," he said softly. "It was supposed to happen." He fell asleep soon after, and so did I.

---

Almost every week after our first midnight excursion to the kitchen, there would be a night where he would wake me and tell me he was starving and couldn't sleep, and I would accompany him to the food stores to gorge.

He grew, of course. You can't eat as much as he was eating without growing.

It frightened me distantly, to see him reach a length of six feet, then seven feet, then eight feet. He had outgrown the bed in no time, and I know that bothered him most of all. The little god was not so little anymore, and he felt isolated because of it. At first people had politely inquired about his health, asking if he was sick, but he always told them he felt perfectly fine. I never saw a little god talk to him about the changes, and privately I thought to myself that there was a chance they knew something that the humans didn't, the way that little gods sometimes seem to suddenly know things. Instincts, they say. But my friend was just as confused as I was, and told me sadly one night that he was a little worried that none of the little gods he knew asked if he felt okay.

To me, my Friend complained of other things as well . His skin itched often from his growing, and his hunger pangs were frustrating (“Like teething,” he told me. “Do you remember when you teethed? You were always uncomfortable.”). I comforted him as best I could, and started sleeping on the floor with him, moving the mattress to the ground and getting rid of the bed frame. I slept on the mattress, he slept half on and half off. Sometimes, I slept on top of him, or partly on top of him, as if he were a giant, warm pillow. He purred when I did that, until I inevitably rolled off of him in my sleep.

One night several months after he'd first been given the warning that he would be growing, he woke me up. I got up automatically, thinking he needed to eat, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and waist and gently and pulled me back down. I felt his arms coil reassuringly around my body, and he showed me one of his foremost arms, making me look at the tip. It was dark, but I could see what he clearly wanted me to see. The tip was wet, something gooey was coming out of it.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he told me, trying his very best to sound casual when actually he was quite afraid. "But this hasn't happened before."

"I know," I said. The tips of his foremost tentacle arms are, like the front end of his body, very sensitive, but they are mostly sensitive to touch. Everyone knows that if you rub a little god's front tentacles, you can make him or her relax and purr and that it helps them sleep. I'd done it many times to My Friend in the past. It had been years though, not since we were young enough to be having nightmares frequently and would need to coax one another back to sleep.

I reached out and took the tip in my hand. It was flexible, strong, and thick. It tapered off to a blunted tip, and I began to rub it gently like when he had been a grub.

He growled suddenly, and I jumped in surprise. I saw him jump too, just as shocked as me. He sat up, picking as much of his body off the floor as he could, the first two and a half feet of his length. "I'm so sorry," he said at once. "That felt really strange, it surprised me."

"Good or bad?" I asked, nervous. “Did it hurt?”

He contemplated, and I saw him tapping and flicking a few of his other tentacles as he thought. "Good, no pain" he decided finally, laying his bulk back down with a sigh as he wiggled a bit to get comfortable again. "It felt very good. Do it again? I won't be surprised this time."

I did. He seemed to shudder slightly, and I watched him as I ran my hands over the tip of his arm, sliding my hand up and down the slightly loose skin.  "You okay?"

"Better than okay," he moaned. I watched the thick liquid drip from the tip. It smelled sweet. My Friend seemed to know what I was already thinking: "You're supposed to taste it? It's... maybe something like that. I'm not certain."

“Are you sure?” I asked.

He shook his front back and forth like when I shake my head no. “I’m pretty lost here. But, I just feel this desire, this need to touch your lips.”

Nervously and a tad reluctantly, I followed his suggestion. I had been told to trust his instincts, had I not? I licked the tip and found that it tasted extremely sweet. "Oh wow," I breathed.

He growled softly again, a happy sound. His other arms were twitching and the ones he hadn’t extended before stretched out from his sides, and the one around my waist was tightening. He pressed me against his warm body, neither of us really understanding what was going on. He pushed his tip past my lips, deeper into my mouth without asking, and I licked it clean of the nectar-like substance. When it was gone and I had cleaned it,  I suckled gently on him. I would have been lying if I had said it wasn't the most delicious thing I'd ever had, and I wanted more.

"I wish you knew what this felt like," he said. His breathing was loud and heavy, the nostrils on the top of his body exhaling hot, steamy air into the room. One of his arms snaked around to cup the back of my head, weaving itself into my hair as he pushed his sensitive organ deeper into my mouth. He demanded softly, "Suck harder. P-please I mean. Sorry... I wasn’t trying to be bossy."

So I sucked harder, enjoying the taste, enjoying his obvious pleasure, enjoying being held. He rubbed it against different parts of my mouth, deciding he disliked my teeth and that he loved my tongue.

“I'm supposed to do this,” he said softly to me in an affectionate tone as his huge, fleshy bulk quivered ecstatically. “I'm not sure why. But this is what I'm supposed to do.”

I trusted him completely, and suckled and licked until he convulsed, and oozed a huge glob of the nectar into my mouth. I swallowed it after rolling it around and tasting it completely. He delicately pulled his tentacle from my mouth and smoothed my hair with it while he squeezed me tightly and pulled my blanket more over me.

“Do you think other pairs do that?” I asked him curiously, meaning other humans and little gods.

He doubted it and I watched him tap his foretentacles together in thought.

“I'm pretty sure I can only do that because I'm odd,” he suggested. “And the females can't make the... the goo. Females are supposed to receive it... because...”

My Friend trailed off. It was a mystery to him as much as it was to me. I said, “I'm not a little god, I'm sorry,  I don't know... sorry...”

He squeezed me tightly with al twelve tentacles. “Don't be. You made me feel amazing. We’ll figure this out.”

I fell asleep, he followed.

---

I felt sluggish the next day. Not sick, just tired. My Friend stroked my back, and I napped in the middle of the day, but he woke me up, a sense of urgency in his motions. He was so excited that he slithered a lap around the mattress on the bed where I lay.

“You need to do this again,” he said a bit apologetically as he brandished his leaking foretentacle and rubbed it against my lips. “I think realized what it does.”

“What does it do?” I asked sleepily as I took one in my mouth and suckled.

“I won't give away the surprise,” he said, but I saw how happy and excited he was. His tail was flicking. I knew it would be okay. “I mean, I could but… you’ll like this more I think.”

It continued for several weeks in a new pattern: Once a week, he would wake me at night with hunger pangs. For the following two days, he'd need me to lick and suckle on his foretentacles, until it became something he needed almost every day. I didn't complain, though initially I was concerned that all the nectar might have a lot of calories to it, and that might mean that I would be really over my amount of rationed calories. But nothing bad came of that.

---

A few weeks later, we were outside. It was a bright, beautiful, sunny day. My Friend said his skin felt sore due to another growth spurt, so we went to shower to help him hydrate himself and take in more water. We had a large timeslot scheduled just for us, because everyone knew that my little god partner needed lots of time to absorb the moisture, much more so than the other little gods.

The shower was large, composed of two rooms. The first had the brushes, the soaps, the stacks of clean towels and piles of dirty ones. I undressed, my Friend didn't wait. He slithered into the shower room and turned on every faucet after groping around for each, setting the water to a temperature that was almost scalding for me until everything was full of thick steam.

He can't see well in showers. Water is constantly hitting him on his sensing tissue, and the sound is cacophonous from all the water droplets. Being in the shower for him is a lot like what being in a loud, dark room where things kept hitting my face would be like for me, except that he likes it a lot.

When I was undressed I went to him, but he didn't see me coming and started when I ran my hand over his side. His reaction was to scoot away from me and coil an arm around my middle. I slipped, and fell, and cried out. I wasn't hurt, but I was startled.

“I'm sorry!” he said at once, and slid over to me. “I-I don't know why I reacted that way.”

His front, what would be his face, pressed against my body. I ran my hands down his sides, or what I could reach of them. “You didn't mean to,” I said as he reached out and pulled me close. He rolled onto his back so I'd sit on his belly.

“I'm sorry anyway,” he said, running his tentacles up and down my sides as I  sat atop him. My legs rested one on each side of his body, like he were a horse I was riding.  “I've been on the edge lately.”

I felt funny, straddling him, feeling his warm body press up against me between my legs. It was a sensation I was unfamiliar with. So I got off of him and picked up the sponge. “It's fine, you haven't been sleeping well lately. Just don't do it again.” I started to rub him down. He made all sorts of pleased grunts and groans, rolling over like a giant, happy, slug with twelve long arms. I felt excited to touch him, to feel his skin under my hands, the heat of his body and the thrumming of his many beating hearts.

When I finished with him, my arms were tired and I lay down on the tile on my stomach. He slithered over me and pinned me, then laughed to himself. “You're heavy,” I complained.

He nuzzled me and coiled his arms around my body, easing back and freeing me. They were sudsy and he got me covered in soap. “My turn to wash you,” he said playfully, and I heard something in his voice I had not heard before. It was a playful tone, but it was mixed with what I was used to hearing from him when he knew something I didn't.

With each of his arms running all over me—coiling around my thighs, my arms, my waist, passing over my breasts and between my legs—I began to feel odd again. And I liked it. My Friend pushed one of his foretentacles into my mouth, and by then I knew what to do without his needing to ask. I licked and sucked on it, and he made a variety of pleased noises as I hungrily devoured the nectar. My eyes were shut, and he and I were for a time equally sensory deprived. But we didn't need much.

My Friend suddenly discharged a glob of the nectar into my mouth and sighed happily. I swallowed it, and as it settled in my stomach it became warm and pleasant, and that warmth seemed to sink lower in me, down to where my legs split... it was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

He purred. It used to be a light sound when he was smaller, but now that he is so massive, it is much deeper. The vibrations reached me and I felt... good. I began to pant in the steamy room as the water plastered my hair to my face.

“How do you feel?” he asked me, and slowly set me down on the tiled floor, keeping his body between my legs and holding the part of him that was over me up with several sets of his limbs. Water that dripped down his body dripped from his underside onto me.

“I feel odd,” I admitted to him, looking up at his lack of a face.

“Good odd or bad odd?” he asked.

“G-good,” I said. My words came out a stuttered moan as his tentacles suddenly snaked forward and rubbed my breasts, squeezing them and jiggling them. He'd done that only a few times before when they had first started growing in and he was curious about them, and I had done the same thing with his arms when they started growing in years before. His sudden interest in them surprised me, but his interest wasn't half as surprising as how good it felt when he bounced them up and down and coiled his thick arms around them to squeeze playfully.

His purring grew louder and he rubbed his face against mine again, then touched it down my body. the last touch was very light,  just above my crotch. “You're wet,” he announced, sounding very pleased... almost smug.

“Well yeah, we're in the shower,” I said.

“No, no,” he said, and he ran one of his tentacles between my legs. I gasped suddenly and sharply at the surprisingly beautiful feeling of his soft, warm appendage pressing against me there. But I saw what he meant when I felt the texture of his tentacle slipping over my sensitive parts—I was wet there, and it wasn't just water.

“O-oh,” I said. I was a bit worried, I had no idea what was going on.

“This is supposed to happen,” My Friend reassured me softly as he purred on. One of his tentacles wrapped around my left thigh and pulled it out to part my legs, another one went back between them and started rubbing me. “I want you to feel as good as I feel when you suck and lick me.”

I got tense at the sensation at first. It was foreign and unexpected, but most of all uncontrollable. I tried to fight it off at first because it scared me, but soon I accepted it.

And then I melted into pleasure.

My Friend's calm, soft voice went on, “The goo from my foretentacles made you capable of this.” I barely heard him, I was too busy feeling something I had never felt before. It didn't take him very long to play with me before he seemed to zero in on what I was sure was the best spot. I relaxed as he loomed over me and touched me everywhere he could with his spare body parts. He seemed very interested in rubbing and stroking.

Soon I felt a pressure inside, and then a pleasure burst forth and consumed me. My vision swirled for a moment and in my state of disorientation, My Friend  wrapped each arm around me until I could barely move.

“Yes!” he hissed happily, wiggling and curling his thick body and pressing me to his not-face to touch me. “Good! That was exactly what was supposed to happen!”

When his grip eased up, I hugged him back and was rewarded with a purr.

“Before you ask,” he said, “Yes, we will be doing that again. Often.”

--- CHAPTER 2 ---

He acquired immense skill in rubbing me after that. Soon we were doing that every night before sleeping just like I was sucking on his tentacles. Done with our lessons (we were almost both old enough to be considered full adults these days, old enough to be given jobs soon) we hurried through mealtimes with our many friends to get back to our quarters. I felt bad sometimes, feeling like maybe we were growing apart from our peers, but I think that overall they were the ones who withdrew the most while we still made efforts to spend time together. We were just hedged out gradually, with nothing we could do about it. We had each other.

We tried not to let it bother us, and let more important things bother us instead.

What we realized we needed was to get some medical texts to help us figure out what was going on. Little gods are sightless, and so they cannot read, which is one of a thousand reasons that they are best paired with a human from birth. I read very well, on the other hand. I had never studied my own body in any scientific context before--at least not in any remotely complicated scientific context--but the situation seemed to necessitate it.

During an evening when the library was mostly packed, we went looking through some of the books. My Friend touched all of the spines of the books  with his tentacles while I went through the labels and found as many books as I could that I thought might tell us things about anatomy. We took them to a corner and sat on the floor pillows to go through them.

“Read out loud, stop skimming,” My friend said, pressing his front to rub it on my arm. “I can tell you’re reading it.”

“Uhh,” I turned to him and then struggled to find my spot once again. There were people near us reading to their little gods and lounging around and I didn’t want them to hear what we were looking up. “Uh, it just says it’s for reproduction. Nothing we don’t already know…”

I read the last line of the page, “‘Human females in healthy physical condition may be asked to assist in reproduction between the ages of 24 and 30. Because of the sensitive nature of the details of reproduction, only selected females will be educated further.”

I closed the book angrily. Years off. My Friend sighed, and then said, “The priests said they’d make accommodations for us. Let’s ask them for more books.”

I blushed at the thought of the priests realizing what we were up to. My Friend didn’t see the pink but he must have sensed the heat change because he reached forward and poked my cheek with a gentle tentacle and smooshed the tip flat, pressing my cheek against my molars.

“It’s not like they ever told us not to do it,” he said, then added, “Not that I want to tell them.”

We ended up making a meeting under the false guise of my Friend being unable to sleep. To make it believable he spent one night without sleeping just before the meeting so that his cream-colored body would be more pale when we visited them.

The human priests deferred mostly to the little god priests to help my Friend. They asked him about how he was eating and other such questions. It’s so rare for a little god to become genuinely ill that we don’t have dedicated doctors to care for them, the older little gods are usually able to help the younger ones.

A male asked him, “Have your foretentacles been well?”

Neither of us had anticipated that question, and my Friend lied, “They ache every once in a while. Growth, I assume.”

The same priest, his pale flesh tattooed with lines asked me, “When he complains have you rubbed them for him?”

“Not since we were little,” I lied. The lie came from my lips before I ever thought about it or considered it, my drive to hide what we did was strong. “He used to have nightmares a lot, it helped him sleep.”

The conversation moved on and they suggested that my friend eat more fiber next time he had a hunger attack in the night. When my Friend asked it they had books he could look into, the request was denied before he could even specify what he wanted to read.

For the first time in our lives we saw the priests with suspicion and we were afraid that they were suspicious with us too.

We sat on top of a hill. My Friend sunned himself and was lying on his side so I could lean against his belly. I could see the library easily.

“It’s not right that they won’t tell us,” he said. “It’s my body that’s odd, I should be able to know everything about why! That should be my right, shouldn’t it? And my right to tell you?”

I nodded and patted him. “And I should be able to read medical texts about my own body too. I never asked to read one before, I never thought they’d keep that from a person. Doesn’t that seem like something everyone should have access to? Why just doctors?”

“It makes me nervous,” my Friend told me. A shudder rippled through his long body. “I’m scared of what they aren’t telling me.”

“No,” I said, turning so that instead of merely leaning on him I had thrown an arm over the front of his body like it was another human’s shoulders. I leaned forward and pressed my forehead on the sensing tissue and felt him inhale and exhale slowly. “Don’t get scared. Whatever this is, it’s good. You feel healthy, don’t you?”

“I’ve never felt better in my life,” he admitted, curling yet another arm around my waist to hold me close.

“You’re gonna be just fine,” I assured him again.

He calmed down with an enormous exhalation and said, “I’m so glad I have you.”

My eyes got a little wet. “Yeah. I feel the same way about you.”

He purred and his arms held me tighter, squeezing against my middle and my thighs. “Maybe we should head home. I’m feeling tired all of a sudden.”

I grinned, but couldn’t get up until he let go of me. I jogged back to our apartment in the dormitory, trying to keep up with my Friend while he slithered as fast as he could.

We had a bigger bed now. Well, it was two mattresses next to each other. My friend could fit on them that way, though he left a large dent where he liked to sleep.

“I had a thought,” he said, taking my hand after we locked our door behind us. “Would you mind me trying something new?”

“Of course not,” I told him, kicking off my shoes and flopping down onto the mattresses, then scooting back from him playfully as he slithered closer, reaching for me with all twelve of his appendages. My back touched the wall and I was trapped and grinning. “You always have good ideas.”

He growled happily when he had me against the wall and lifted my shirt and bra to nuzzle his front against my breasts. I helped him along and pulled off all of my upper body clothes while he reached up under my skirt, trailing warm tentacles up the insides of my thighs before wrapping them around my legs to knead my leg muscles.

I ran hands over his front, over his skin. He pulled back from my breasts and nuzzled my face. I nuzzled back, feeling arms come to wrap around my waist and stroke every inch of my skin up my torso. He took off my skirt, pulling it from my legs smoothly so I was left only with my panties. My Friend spread my legs and touched his front to my crotch--he shuddered violently with pleasure when he made contact with the dark wet spot on the front.

“You are so excited,” he commented in such a way that I knew he was just as excited. He rubbed against me there, pushing hard against me and making me grind my hips against him.

“It feels amazing,” I said, blushing. “I can’t even… I can’t even begin to put it to words what it’s like, the pressure on me, the touching, the warmth…”

“I know,” he replied, and hooked a tentacle into my panties to pull them from my legs as he rose up to my eye level. “I think you’ll like this more, but I think uh… it might hurt at first? But that’s supposed to happen. It’s a good thing , it’s a good thing.”

My Friend had been right about everything that had led us up to this point. I gave him a smooch. “I trust you.”
He pushed one of his foretentacles inside of me, and it did hurt. I would have whimpered, possibly even yelped, but at the same moment he pressed his other foretentacle past my lips to distract and muffle me. The one he’d pushed in between my legs stretched me painfully as he reached in as deeply as he could, wiggling the tip around to feel my slick insides.

“Mmm,” I moaned to my Friend. There were tears at the corners of my eyes, but I could never resent this pain because it came with an explosive delight.

“This is incredible,” he mused, and I moaned as he flexed his lower tentacle between my legs, pressing against the inside of my tunnel. “To have both of mine… inside of you… at the same time…”

He didn’t last long like that, and I felt him throb and push his goo into me. My Friend’s groans were loud, half snarl and half purr as the foretentacle in my mouth ejaculated next. He retracted them from me and I sat up to get closer to him.

“You need to do that longer next time,” I told him after I swallowed the load of goo. As he’d grown in size, so that the amounts of goo that he produced. Sometimes now it was almost too much for me to swallow, and neither of us knew where his growth would end. “Next time, can you hold it back? Keep the goo from coming for a while longer? Because, because I felt something.”

He bobbed the front part of his body in a nod and slithered forward to me to rub it against my breasts again, pressing my erect nipples to that sensing flesh. “We’ll experiment. We’ll find what works best. And then we will get very, very good at it.”

His words made me shudder with delight as a warm pleasure shot up through me at the thought. What would such pleasures bring? I had no idea, but I wanted it. I put my hands on his front to stroke him, and more of tentacles started to curl around my thighs and my waist, holding me in place to him. One of his tentacles stroked my clitoris.

I kept trying to buck and move my hips, just on instinct, but he held me in place so he could rub consistently. I made small moans, little squeals, tiny whimpers.

“Yes,” I breathed, and released, twitching and leaning forward to hold my Friend and be held. He was purring so loudly that the whole building was probably trembling.

---

He suggested to me one day, “We should steal the books we need.”

“What?” I asked. Initially the idea was appalling to me, but after brief contemplation I knew that my Friend’s suggestion would be the only way we’d ever get our hands on real information. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. How?”

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” he confessed sheepishly. I gave him a reassuring pat on the back just behind his large breathing holes.