A priest makes a pledge to his chapter’s master.
Cis M/tentacle beast. Just 600w, short and sweet! For the Monstrous May Challenge 2023.
Eno takes one step forward after the next, aware of how little sound his bare feet are making on the temple floor. The grey stone is cold and slightly damp under his soles, but the air in the room isn’t quite so chilly — nonetheless, as soon as he dropped his clothes at the entrance, his body broke out in goosepimples at the sudden change in temperature, and as he approaches the pool it feels as if every hair on his body is standing on edge.
From the far side of the temple hall, the dark red surface of the water, not dissimilar to the colour of blood, had seemed calm and still, but the closer he gets, the more he sees ripples in it, the more he sees shadows moving beneath its surface.
When his right foot touches down against the edge of the stone pool, the shadows become darker. His mouth goes dry as one of them breaks the surface: the tip of the tentacle is an oily black on its upper surface and a paler red on the underside,
The words pass from his lips as smoothly as liquid, each and every one of them smoothly easing into the other — it doesn’t even feel like language anymore, no longer feeling like prayer or ritual and more like song, motivated by rhythm and melody more than meaning. He tries not to get distracted, tries not to stumble, but it’s hard when more and more tentacles break the surface of the water and rise up higher and higher, reaching out for him.
He feels charged with magic, electricity dancing over his skin like it’s hopping between the raised hairs on his body, and when he finishes the ritual phrasing he lets his body tip forward the way he practised again and again and again with the other priests these past few weeks, forcing his body to stay loose and relaxed. He focuses as hard as he can to keep himself from stiffening.
Falling into the mass of writhing tentacles is a much softer landing even than falling into the gentler arms of the other priests — he sinks right into them, is surprised to find that they’re warmer to the touch than his own skin is, a contrast to the cool water that they’re suspended in.
Eno moans as the tentacles begin to slide over his bare skin, exploring what’s been offered to them, leaving lines of heat crossing his back, curling around his arms, his legs. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine what Brother Rava had described, tries to imagine himself as part of the liquid that surrounds them, to let his body go liquid and be part of it.
The tentacles feel good, so much better than he had imagined, than he could have expected — the ones around his legs curl around them again and again, getting up higher and higher. His breath hitches, and he keeps his eyes tightly closed as the tips of the tentacles slide against the meat of his thighs and up between his legs.
When the first teases at the opening of his arse, he whimpers out a choked noise, and another wraps around his cock. He fidgets in the tentacles’ hold, unable to control himself, and they surge to keep him still, more of them swarming around his body.
A tentacle forces its way into his mouth at the same time the other pushes itself past the ring of his arse, and his howl of pleasure is muffled by the arcane limb forcing itself into his throat. His legs are spread wide apart, a second tentacle pushing itself past the ring of his arse, and he arches his back and desperately tries to thrust up for more of the one wrapping tight around his cock.
A day or two, the other priests had said. You usually survive.
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