Page Turner

Welcome to (text-colour:green)[Page Turner] This is 18+ story with limited interactive elements, about picking up a suspicious book about eldritch entities and finding it a very //transformative// read. It contains the following: * Corruption * Transformation * Body Horror * Sexy Cosmic Horrors * Tentacles * Anal sex * Implied Mind-Control * Swallowing a bunch of questionable eldritch goop * Master/Servant elements If you wish to continue, [[pick up the book]].

You're browsing a car boot sale of all things when you find it. Under a pile of beat-up paperbacks and old hardbacks with yellowing pages, there's a book bound in black leather, embossed with subtle patterns in deep green and bearing the title of "On The Nature And Categorisation Of Supra-Dimensional Beings". This is the kind of shit an antiquarian bookseller would go bananas over, and some guy is selling it from a basket halfway tucked under a fold-out plastic table in the middle of a field full of grass and other people with cars and plastic tables. You ask how much it is, and the stall owner shrugs and says he has no idea and that he found it while clearing out his grand-uncles house. Maybe €10? You can't be bothered haggling so you agree. You trawl the car boot sale for another half hour before heading home with your purchase in your backpack. After getting a bite to eat and a drink, you sit down at your desk with the book and [[open the cover]].

The impression of time and expense put into creating this book continues when you open the cover and flip to the title page. It looks to be hand-bound, if you had to guess, but by someone who knew what they were doing. There's no publisher listed, and the title is richly illuminated like a medieval manuscript. You're impressed, even while you wonder who made it and why. There's no author listed, and a brief search for "On The Nature And Categorisation Of Supra-Dimensional Beings" brings up nothing. That means this isn't a modern-day collectible for serious fans of all things eldritch or alien, so it's either the ramblings of some rich Victorian dude with too much time on his hands and an interest in Theosophy, or a home-made passion project, or, more excitingly... It could be the real thing. A book made by someone who had an insight into beings beyond our dimension and their ways. Or at least, someone who thought they had. Either is intriguing. [[Flip to the first page.]]

The introduction to the book lays out the authors intentions to describe various entities from beyond our dimension, how to make contact with them and the precautions needed in doing so. The anonymous author compares it to a latter-day Key of Solomon, while clarifying that the beings are in no way comparable to demons, but defy any attempts to place them in the animal kingdom. They are truly otherworldly, possessed by a vast intelligence and senses of perception beyond the scope of a human, allowing them to see into our dimension with ease and interact without betraying their presence. Usually they appear only to a select few intermediaries or those who know how to summon their attention, preferring to treat our earth and dimension as a terrarium to be observed but sparingly touched. [[While you read the introduction, you start to feel a curious sensation of being watched.]]

It's probably nothing. Just your imagination after the author described the omnipresent gaze of the entities, how no door or wall or lead-lined chamber could hope to confound one if they found a subject they wished to observe. The thought sends a bit of a shiver down your spine. Imagine catching the interest of an observer with such implicable attention, never pausing for a moment in tracking a single thing you do... You shake the thought off and [[turn the page]].

Despite the antiquated writing style, you find the book drawing you in. The sheer detail of it fascinates you. The more you read, the more you want to read. When you flip the page to the first illustration of one of the unearthly beings, you stop to stare at it, your eyes soaking in the details. It's like an old-fashioned woodcut if one was filled with nothing but curiously three-dimensional geometric shapes, twisting and intersecting and blending into each other, rendered in black and tones of green and purple. You trace the twisting lines with your fingers, never seeming to arrive back at the point where you started, in and around and up and down, in and around and up and down, in and around and around and around, deeper into the image, deeper into the details... You hardly notice the feeling of being watched intensify as you lose yourself in the drawing of the entity. But you //do// notice. You decide to... [[Ignore the feeling and read on]] | [[Close the book]]

You're probably just imagining it, right? It's just the book is so well designed that you can't help but buy in to the idea that everything the author described is real. That has to be it. Except... The feeling of being watched only increases as you turn the pages, soaking up information about the entity in the illustration, until it's impossible to ignore the sensation. Whatever it is, it feels heavy, almost a physical presence. [[Read on]] | [[Okay no this is getting creepy]]

As you continue reading, you start to almost get used to the palpable feeling of being watched. In fact, it starts to feel not only heavy, but also warm. More like the heaviness of a thick winter blanket. You blink when your eyes begin to water, but continue reading, lulled slightly by the curious warmth and by the occasional mesmerising illustration that attempts to convey some small part of the essence of one of the outer entities. The descriptions of each of the outer entities are increasingly accompanied by glyphs and drawings of complex ritual circles meant to assist in summoning them. You trace the complex patterns with your fingers while reading. It's not like they actually do anything, anyway. You're soothed by the warmth and the meditative motion of tracing the diagrams. You could [[continue deeper into the book]] or you could (link:"stop reading")[[[keep reading|continue deeper into the book]]]

It's just a little uncomfortable to read, somehow. Which is a shame, because it was clearly put together with a lot of care. Maybe you'll come back some other time to read it. Or maybe you can sell it on ebay. It's no Voynich manuscript, but you could probably get a pretty penny for it. THE END

You slam the book shut and the feeling of being watched disappears. That was fucking spooky. You put the book away, and leave a quartz crystal on the cover just in case. It's supposed to be good for bad energy or something, right? So long as it isn't actually haunted. You don't know anything about exorcising spirits, or books, or spirits in books. Hopefully it isn't infested with Zozo or whatever. THE END

It's so detailed you'd almost think it was real, like the author actually summoned up some of the entities to make deals, and afterwards attempted to capture part of their glories in illustrations. It doesn't escape your attention that the text is increasingly interrupted by praise for the entities and the gifts bestowed on the author. How generous they are, how merciful and benevolent, how understanding of the limits of human senses. It's almost a bit annoying, like alright, you get it already, they don't need to devote space every few paragraphs or so to declarations of gratitude. Still, the whole thing is so intriguing that you aren't put off. You can barely tear your gaze away from the page, even if the illegible incantations on the current one make your eyes water as you try to decipher them. It looks like a very dense version of Blackletter font, and you can make out a few letters here and there. Despite how uncomfortable it is to look at it, you linger for a few more moments, black spots appearing in the edges of your vision as a headache develops. You blink and shake your head to clear it, looking around the room to give your eyes a break. There's still blackness flickering in and out of the edges of your vision, though, and even if it seems to dissipate when you turn your head to look, it comes back when you turn away again. You're definitely letting your imagination run away with you. [[Blink and turn the page]]

You decide to move on from the literally eye-watering incantation to look at the next illustration. It's another abstract one, and tracing your fingers over the patterns lets you relax and shake off your discomfort. Lets you get drawn in again to the accompanying text. The description for the being in the illustration - because apparently there is one, it's not just dots and lines - calls it Zgatesrra, guide to the stars, who reveals the shape of universe to their devotees. When you look back at the illustration, you realise it isn't as abstract as you thought. It's as if the lines and dots have resolved themselves into a multitude of spheres, each containing star charts and constellations, like great eyes reflecting the sights of deepest space. You wonder how you hadn't noticed the hidden logic of it before, like just knowing the name gave you a sliver of insight into the truth of the drawing. You imagine the shivering voice of Zgatesrra, like the cold between stars, inviting you to discover the deeper insights they could give you. It really is a very well put-together book, to fire up your imagination so strongly. [[You wonder what it would be like to encounter one of the entities.]]

You're starting to get really curious about what it would be like to encounter one of the beings in person - if they were real, that is - when you flip the page to an extremely detailed diptych which shows a being made up mostly of tentacles and mouths presiding over a wild orgy. The title on the illustration is "Grolascixamm, bringer of unearthly pleasures", and the details of the drawing make you blush before you even examine them closer. You can almost feel the tentacles brush against your skin, as if you were the figure in the drawing that you're looking at. The figures in the drawing look... Very enthusiastic... About how they're being caressed and penetrated by the many tendrils of Grolascixamm. Grolascixamm... It's not a very sexy name for a sex monster, but you still find yourself half tempted to say it, half curious how it would feel in your mouth. You're aware of your tongue moving to silently form the syllables as you ponder it. With slightly trembling fingers you turn the page, keeping one hand on the last so you can go back and study the... details... some more if you want to. When your eyes skim over the invocation for Grolascixamm, which is conveniently written in plain English and in a legible font, you imagine almost that there is a whisper in your ear, encouraging you to try it out, to speak it aloud. Your mouth is a little dry, and you lick your lips while making up your mind. [[Why not?]] | This is getting a bit too weird, [[you decide to take a break]]

Well... Why not. It's not like this stuff is real, and even if it somehow actually was, the figures in the drawing look like they're in the middle of nutting their brains out. You expect yourself to stumble over the invocation, but the words come easily and naturally once you start to read them. (text-colour:#00DB00)["I call upon Grolascixamm, bringer of unearthly pleasures, the one who delights in the forms of their celebrants, and entreat them to bestow upon me the insights of flesh, an ecstasy without end, a carnal communion of the beyond. I offer my body as a conduit for pleasures beyond imagining, that they may enter into this dimension. Please hear these words, and touch me with your presence."] Unless you're imagining it, a low persistent humming noise has started up in the room, and the weight of being watched has gotten heavier. It's warm in here. You look around the room, wondering if it really did do anything, but [[the noise fades]]...

You're not really in the mood right now? when you opened the book you were not expecting it to end up going in //that// direction. You know, with the tentacles and the illustrations of orgies and all. Your eyes are tired and the room feels stifling. You just need a break. When you close the cover and then stand up and stretch, it's like a bubble around the room has been popped, and all the mundane noises from outside rush in all of a sudden. You do leave a bookmark in the page, though. Just in case you decide to go back to it later. THE END

You're not sure if you're more relieved or disappointed that it didn't seem to do anything. The phrasing of the invocation was a bit strong, even if the idea of being a conduit for unearthly powers that want to bone down and have a good time sounds kind of fun. Definitely the most relatable of the outer entities you've seen described in the book. Where's an eldritch entity to claim your ass when you want one, huh? [[You laugh at yourself for getting carried away.]]

Laughing at yourself a little for getting so caught up in the book that you actually expected something to happen, you flip the page to read onwards. The author clearly wasn't finished discussing Grolascixamm and its interest in your world in extremely lurid detail. There's a sigil on the next page which manages to be both abstract and suggestive, and you find yourself tracing the pattern as you look over the text. It feels right to do that, somehow. You bite your lip as you read, the warmth in the room just on the comfortable side of stifling. The text conjures images in your head of the entity peeling away your clothing with a multitude of caresses. You can almost feel it, brushing against your arms, curling around your ankles... You go to cross your legs and feel something tug against them. [[Wait.]]

Slowly, deliberately, you look down. Emerging completely out of nowhere and curling around your ankles are two tentacles. You blink, but they're still there. You shake your legs, they're still there. [[This is actually happening.]]

You pull your legs away more forcefully and they fall away to lie on the floor in an absurdly forlorn manner, not trying to reach after you. Blinking again in case it might change the 'tentacles appearing from nowhere' situation, you try to approach this rationally. As much as you can. You know, considering the 'tentacles appearing from nowhere' situation. You did kind of just ask an otherworldly tentacle monster to commune with your holes. And it showed up to presumably oblige. Now that the shock of the invocation actually working is fading a little bit, you'll admit to be interested as to how it feels. So you kind of stare at the tentacles for a while, before you gingerly [[slide a foot over next to one]].

It doesn't latch on immediately like you expected, but slowly slides over, and then it curls loosely around your ankle in a surprisingly gentle manner. You field the brief shock of something slick touching the skin of your leg, and then you hear //it//. (text-colour:green)["Do not fear. We are here only to bring you ecstasy, mortal."] The voice reverberates in your mind, loud enough to make you wince. But once it fades, your lingering fear and shock go with it. (text-colour:green)["Show us. Your desire."] Your thoughts go to the image in the book. The slick and sexual tangle of limbs in the illustration. The reply from the being is an impression of wordless acknowledgement. It's pleased. For some reason, this matters to you. You watch the other tentacle wind its way around your other leg. Making a decision, you... [[pull down your pants and your underwear]] | [[change your mind about this whole thing]]

You turn your head back to the book, knowing that the entity isn't fooled, not when it can hear your thoughts while its touch is on you. But it's more fun to play at disinterest, your eyes skimming the page as strong limbs spread your legs apart. You bite your lip and try to read on while something slick begins to tease at your hole. Without thinking, you flip the page back to the illustration of the orgy, your breath speeding up when you realise you'll be able to fit right in with the figures in it soon. Your arousal jumps as copious amounts of the same slime covering the tentacles is slathered all around your entrance. Still you pretend to read. It doesn't stop the groan that comes out of you when the slender tip of a tentacle begins to slide inside of you. This one feels smoother, but equally as slick as the rest. Several more are winding around your legs. As the tentacle gradually fills you, your eyes flutter, head feeling like it's spinning. Dizziness and pleasure rise together in a wave. You're barely being touched, how can it be this intense? It feels like you're teetering on the edge for a long time as the tentacle fills you properly. You look down at the drawing and imagine that the image of the being you summoned is urging you on. (text-colour:green)[Feel. Open.] [[Open yourself to Grolascixamm]] | [[Open yourself to Grolascixamm]]

What's the point in being coy about it? You summoned a tentacle sex monster, //obviously// you want your holes wrecked. You hold your legs open, spreading them in obvious invitation, and touch yourself openly as you feel the tentacles slither up your legs, leaving trails of tingling slime behind in their wake, sensitising your skin and making you shiver in the most delightful way. You don't even try to muffle the groan that comes out of you when the slender tip of a tentacle begins to slide inside of you. This one feels smoother, but equally as slick as the rest. Several more are winding around your legs. As the tentacle gradually fills you, your eyes flutter, head feeling like it's spinning. Dizziness and pleasure rise together in a wave. You're barely being touched, how can it be this intense? It feels like you're teetering on the edge for a long time as the tentacle fills you properly. You look down at the drawing and imagine that the image of the being you summoned is urging you on. (text-colour:green)[Feel. Open.] [[Open yourself to Grolascixamm]] | [[Open yourself to Grolascixamm]]

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> Relaxing your muscles, you let even more of the tentacle fill you. You can feel it squirming inside you and stretching your hole. You gasp, taking breaths while stars dance in your vision. You open your mind and body to Grolascixamm. And pleasure flows in. The howl you let out is barely a fraction of what you feel. You feel like your skin can barely hold in the deluge of pure unadulterated ecstasy filling you. When you orgasm, you feel an echo of it reflected back to you by a million minds. So many bodies and minds connected by pleasure. You shudder and shake as the smallest impression of that whole is conveyed to you. You want more. (text-colour:green)[Good.] Your mouth shapes the syllables of Grolascixamm's name reverently. They deserve every word of praise written about them in the book.} [[You open yourself further to them.]] <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #EBFFEC; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #EBFFEC 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #EBFFEC 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #EBFFEC 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

Your mind blazes with a mix of elation and understanding, and with every twitch of your taut stomach as you keep coming, you understand even more. You glimpse glittering constellations of life beyond your own dimension, all linked by the common experience of pleasure. The vast coldness of space a backdrop for burning passion that begs to be shared. Your body relaxes into something a little bit like an afterglow - the valley between peaks of pleasure - and many more tendrils emerge from beneath you to slide around your legs, up past your hips, and to your chest. You know that your offering is allowing the being a means to access your reality, and the more you feel, the more strength it will have to reach out to you. You let your muscles go slack and another tentacle wriggles inside of your hole, stretching enough that your eyes roll back. More tentacles climb your chest, tearing away your unnecessary clothes, caressing liberated skin. Everything is slick, and feverish, as cool limbs slide against you leaving trails of throbbing warmth. So sensitive to the touch, as if all of you was made only to feel good. Your pleasure crests again in a wave, conjuring sounds from your throat that you didn't even know you were capable of. The answering waves from Grolascixamm's faithful crash over you and drown out every other feeling. Drown out almost every thought. (text-colour:green)[Open.] You... [[Open your mouth]] | [[Hesitate]]

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> Yes. Yes. You want more. Everything your mind and body can take. You hold your mouth open. And you... You drink deep. Tentacles fill your waiting mouth, slime tingling on your lips and tongue and the inside of your mouth. You breathe through your nose. Something hot swells inside the tentacles, then releases down your throat in a gush of liquid that you diligently swallow. You swallow, and swallow, and keep swallowing. The heat you felt on your skin wherever you were touched is spreading through your whole body inside and out.} [[It feels a little like you're melting.]] <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #EBFFEC; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #D9FFDB 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #D9FFDB 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #D9FFDB 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

You hesitate. Yes, you feel good, but... There's a vague idea in the back of your mind that opening yourself even more to the being you summoned isn't something you can so easily come back from. You're near drunk with pleasure as it is. Any more and you'd surely lose whatever modicum of reason you have left. Reluctantly, you shake your head. The tentacles around and inside you pause all at once. The loss of that intoxicating movement in and around you almost makes you change your mind - whatever you're being offered is surely an experience beyond mortal capabilities - but your good sense holds you back. The regret you push down is echoed by an answering sadness from Grolascixamm. Through the connection between you, you experience one last emotion not your own, a yearning tempered with acceptance. It fades as the limbs retract. The tentacles retreat back along the floor and vanish from where they came, leaving no trace of ever having been there - save for your flushed body and torn clothing. You feel empty. Bereft. You're sure you'll get over it soon. [[You close the book and put it away]]

As you drink, your limbs relax further, letting more and more tentacles into your mouth and your hole, more than you would have thought were comfortably possible, but there's no discomfort. Only the melting heat suffusing your entire body. Where the tentacles coiled around the outside of your body press against your skin, your flesh seems to move to accommodate them, becoming increasingly pliable... [[Your limbs begin to coil together with theirs]] | [[You focus on the shifting feeling inside of you]] (warning - all the way through)

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> You watch in fascination as your fingers lengthen and your hands split up the middle, peeling apart painlessly into fleshy tendrils that twine together with the tentacles caressing your arms. The process repeats with your legs, which joyfully twist and circle the tentacles emerging from the entity's window into the world. Even your torso feels as though it could reshape itself similarly, to maximise the surfaces of your body available for touch. A supreme calm blankets your thoughts as you watch all this happen, feeling your body reshaping, listening to the joy transmitted to your connection with Grolascixamm and its worshippers, all of them constituent parts of a wonderful whole. Your thoughts and body ring out with transcendental connection. And all the while, more tentacles rise and encircle you, to undulate in and around your body, as your pleasure serves as a beacon to enter this dimension. The places where your flesh rubs against that of Grolascixamm feel... Good. You're not sure you could call what you have "arms" or "legs" anymore, so much as limbs. Your bones must have dissolved, but the whole process was nothing but ecstasy. You are content to luxuriate in the feeling of your limbs weaving together with the other tentacles, and let the sensations of flesh on eldritch flesh bring you to orgasm after orgasm. Then Grolascixamm speaks to you once more. (text-colour:#00DB00)[//Join Us//] [[The meaning of the statement flows into your mind.]]} <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #FFFFFF; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #D9FFDB 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #D9FFDB 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #D9FFDB 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> You focus on the shifting feeling inside of you, as more tentacles both large and slender slide into you from both sides. It's an impossible sensation, as they weave in between your insides, harmlessly curling past your organs as they seek each other. Your flesh is no impediment to them, every part they touch bringing euphoria, despite not being equipped to experience pleasure in such places... At least not until you swallowed Grolascixamm's blessed ichor, thus making your body a suitable conduit and dwelling for them. The tentacles writhing their way through your body meet in the middle, and you feel your insides, organs and muscles alike, pushed out of the way as the tentacles twist and twine together. You can't breathe but you no longer need to. Every twitch and writhe of the countless tendrils inside you blanks your mind out in pleasure. (text-colour:#D9FFDB)[Your fingers spasm.] [[Your limbs begin to coil together with theirs]]

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> The meaning immediately flows into your mind. You have already joined the choir of worshippers who exult your Master with their bodies, and share in the pleasure experienced by each of them. What is being offered to you now is the opportunity to become one with the great whole that is Grolascixamm. To lose yourself in it, be absorbed and incorporated, become both the subject and the object of adulation, change beyond all recognition and be welcomed by the multitude who have made that step before you. Who have cast off all of what they were to become what they are now. A pure moment of pleasure that wishes to share itself across the universe. Unending. Unified. Eternal. The choice is yours alone - and if you were to agree, it would be the last you ever make as an individual being.} [[You're rather fond of the you that is you]] - small as you are in comparison to a being of cosmic scale. [[What could be better than to both become and share an ecstasy unending?]] You will happily trade what is "you" to become part of it. <head> <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: #ABFFAB;} </style> </head> </body> </html>

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> As much as you are grateful for the opportunity to become one with that which you worship, you also have a fondness for the identity you wear now. As small as you are in comparison to what amounts to a god, it's enough to know that you are adored and have a connection to all those others who adore and are adored by your Master - or Masters - the many minds amalgamated into Grolascixamm. They - it - the distinction doesn't matter to your Master(s) - receive this reply graciously. You feel a trace of longing and regret from them, a small drop in the ocean of their unfathomable love. The tentacles surrounding you weave in and out of yours, each touch a moment of pleasure. Caressing you, holding you, encircling and filling you. Winding so closely around each other that it feels like you are almost the same being. Yet you know you can retract your tentacles if you need to, and shape yourself however you like. While your thoughts wear the stamp of communion with the beyond, they are still your own, and if you need privacy you will have it. Whether you will feel the need for it, well, that's another matter entirely. If you wish to feel your Masters' touch, all you need do is touch yourself and they will find their way to you. Will make you feel as good as you do right now. You feel wonderful. Your afterglow has mixed into your orgasms until one flows into another, warmth and contentment together with heat and desperate ecstacy. It's a feeling that begs to be shared. Another reason to stay as you - to remain here on earth and serve as an envoy for your Masters! There are so many here that crave a connection like you have, who would gladly become something new and trade their old form for a delightful and malleable one like your own, reshape their flesh to achieve otherwise impossible heights of pleasure. You're sure of it. Grolascixamm deserves more worship, and the toilers of the dull, mundane earth deserve better than the small and limited indulgences that human shapes and human society can offer. You have your purpose, and your purpose is pleasure, and to fulfil that purpose is your pleasure.} (text-colour:#00DB00)[THE END] <head> <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: #ABFFAB;} </style> </head> </body> </html>

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[The moment you transmit that thought to Grolascixamm, you feel their joy, like the vast being holding open their arms to welcome you. The tentacles around you, in you, and through you tighten, latching on firmly to the mass of tendrils you've become.] (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[As they do, pleasure sears through you, at a high intensity that melts your thoughts around the edges. You feel fuzzy, the limits of your limbs unclear even as the surrounding tentacles wind themselves even more thoroughly together with yours. It feels as if your consciousness is melting around the edges, being spread out, and you dimly become aware of feeling with, feeling through the tentacles wound together with yours.] (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[The awareness grows. You don't lose the feeling of connection to 'your' tendrils, but more and more you become connected with a greater number. More and more the intense searing pleasure melts and softens 'you', and the thoughts and feelings that were other than yours before flow in, the psychic connection with the rest of you growing stronger. If this fraction of you had eyes anymore, they would be rolling back.] (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[The small fraction of you bleeds into the rest of you gradually. All parts of you resound with tingling happiness, from the small new addition to the vastness that welcomes it. Yes, you welcome you. You are so happy to join you. Yes.] (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[Yes!] (text-colour:#ABFFAB)[Yes, yes, yes] yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES (text-colour:#00DB00)[YES YES YES! All of you rings with your yes!] (text-colour:#00DB00)[Your wholeness is more whole, your vastness is more vast, your delight in all of you increased by being joined with more delight. A shudder goes through all your places, all your span and distance, as you integrate the new part of you fully. You sing out pleasure and receive the echo of it from your faithful, increasing your own.] (text-colour:#00DB00)[Perhaps soon more of them will join you too, cease to be apart from you and become more parts of you. It would please all of you immensely.] (text-colour:#00DB00)[THE END]} <style> body {background-color: black;} p {colour: background: #ABFFAB; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #ABFFAB 0%, #00DB00 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #ABFFAB 0%, #00DB00 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #ABFFAB 0%, #00DB00 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} p { font: 100% Georgia, serif; box-sizing: border-box; width: 100%; min-height: 100%; font-size: 1.5em; line-height: 1.5em; } </style> </body> </html>

You pull down your pants and underwear to show your readiness. The tentacles twine their way up along your calves, spreading a slime in their wake that tingles and heats your skin, even while the tentacles themselves are cool against it. You shiver as the tentacles reach to your thighs, ever closer. On the sensitive skin of your inner thigh you can feel the surface of the limbs sucking and releasing rhythmically as they climb higher, all the while trailing slime that drives on your arousal. They're so close... [[Pretend to ignore them]] | [[Touch yourself openly]]

You thought you were into the idea, but now that it's actually happening, it's a BIT much. Even if you don't feel afraid, that doesn't mean you're ready for this. Maybe someday, but not now. Pulling your legs back, you think at the tentacle thing - or elder god, or whatever it is - to please go away. Surprisingly, it vanishes into the floor, and that's that. You blink, wondering if you were imagining things, but the patch of your leg that the thing touched is slick with slime. It tingles a little. After wiping your leg clean, you look under the desk to make sure nothing is hiding there. Nope, all clear. Now that you have a moment to gather your thoughts, you wonder if it would have been worthwhile to see what it did, but you if you weren't feeling 100% enthusiastic about it, that's probably a sign you need to think it over first. And damn, do you have a lot to think over. Not only do you not know what implications //eldritch tentacle gods being real// has for the universe at large, but you have no idea what the implications of inviting one to bang you would be, either. It's still kind of a hot thought. Maybe you'll have the courage to go through with it another time. So you close the book and put it on your shelf, and steal glances at it every so often, and dream sometimes of slick limbs sliding against yours. THE END

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> After closing the book, you put it away in a drawer. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Except, as you find in the weeks that follow, it's not that easy to forget something that challenges the entire way you look at the world. You know now that there's life beyond the bounds of earth, that there is a being out there so vast it may as well be a god. Pure and joyful desire, made manifest. If you picked up the book and invoked it again, it would gladly welcome you back. But - if you did - you may never want to leave that feeling ever again. So you do your best to push the thought of it to a corner of your mind and close it off.} [[You do your best...]] <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #FFFFFF; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #FFFFFF 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #FFFFFF 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #EBFFEC 0%, #FFFFFF 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

You do your best, but fuck, it's hard to forget it. A mere sample of it was enough that the taste has never left you. Faded with time, but never left. You want the pleasure, the connection, the feeling of wholeness and rightness. It doesn't help that you dream about it sometimes. Being back in that moment, having all those desires fulfilled. The things that momentarily satisfy your lingering desires are also the ones that make you think of your brush with Grolascixamm the most. Concerts, clubbing, the moment when music rises and takes everyone in the room along in a wave, the pure wordless communication of music and bodies moving in time, expressing joy with their flesh. Live music. That and sex, of course. You keep yourself sufficiently busy that you don't have time to think about it too much, but when you do have free time - when you do - you find your gaze straying back to the drawer with the book more often than not. [[You're strong enough to resist]] | [[One little look through the book can't hurt, right?]]

It's just a book and one single mind-bending sexual experience. You're strong enough to set it aside and get on with your life. After all, you have plenty of goals that don't involve weird eldritch beings. And there's plenty of other ways to have sex that don't involve weird eldritch beings, either. Which is what you've been telling yourself, and you're doing pretty well at making yourself believe it, except your dreams have gotten more intense lately. Replaying the experience you had, and then adding new ones. Voices calling out to you. So many of them. All full of longing, promising to make you feel good. A confused sequence of acts, of slick limbs sliding against your skin, licking, slithering, //worshipping//. You wake from one of these dreams, inflamed with need. It's so intense that you doubt making yourself come is going to be enough to take the edge off. [[Get off a few times and go back to bed]] [[One little look through the book can't hurt, right?]]

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> Your hands shake slightly as you retrieve the book from the drawer. You remind yourself that you're only going to have a little read of the book, that's all. As soon as you open the cover of the book, you flick through the pages and ignore everything else until you reach the section on Grolascixamm. The same illustration as before is there in all its glory, and just looking at it gives you a pleasurable shiver. Now you know that it's real and not the product of the author's overheated imagination. You know how it feels to be on the receiving end of those skilful touches, and the more you look at it, the more it brings the memory back to the forefront of your mind. Before you look away, you swear the drawing shifts and changes to show the forms of the worshippers warping, transforming, growing tentacles of their own. It... Probably did change, actually. Eldritch tentacle monsters are real, so pornographic drawings of them that are enchanted to move might as well be, too. It gives you a sexy-scary skincrawling feeling. Goosebumps together with a hot stab of desire in your stomach that you try to ignore. You held back before, sure, but if you didn't, you would probably be a weird tentacle monster, too. You're not entirely sure if that would be a bad thing, which itself is a little frightening, although it's a fun sort of frightening. Maybe it shouldn't be fun to feel frightened, but it does. It's on your mind as you read the same description as you did the first time. Your eye is caught by the section describing the 'boons' granted to those who glorify Grolascixamm with their bodies. The author states that they become amorphous creatures of shifting flesh like their Master, freely able to assume whichever forms they choose, but always with an undertone of the uncanny about them. That catches your attention. You had skimmed over that section before, under the presumption that none of it was really real, but now you read back over it carefully, turning the implications over in your mind. So, if you did offer yourself back up to Grolascixamm, you would still be able to continue living normally afterwards? Except you'd look a bit uncanny valley? It honestly doesn't sound too bad of a price for getting fucked so hard you literally see stars. Not just the once, but whenever you want. When you think about it, when you really think about it without falling back on what you 'should' want, without relying on your old ideas of what's possible... Being a shapeshifting tentacle monster doesn't sound so bad. A little scary, yes, but when is change not scary? Before you really register what you're doing, you flick over the page to the invocation, and your mouth is shaping the first syllables. You've made your decision. You still feel a little afraid, but excited and resolute, too, not to mention absurdly turned on knowing what's going to happen next. The last word calling to Grolascixamm is barely out of your mouth before tentacles are sliding up your legs, sliding into your thoughts, preparing you, opening you in every way. It's impossible to think over the wave of joy that washes over your mind. They are so pleased you've called them to come back to you. All of them. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth opens, and your mouth is filled, and you drink down what's offered to you. Your body is hot. Feels strange. Good strange. All the tension drains from you and you melt. You don't know where your limbs are or what they're doing for a long moment. When you regain awareness of them, they're all wriggly. Your Masters delight over your newness, and sing to you how to shape it to your liking. You're not too concerned about that at the moment. You want them to fuck you again. They are only too happy to oblige. Later, you will experiment with your newfound malleability, fashion yourself back into a close approximation of your old shape. Change your features and shape to whatever makes you happiest. Touch and pinch and pull, stroke and pleasure, over and over, all aquiver with sensitivity, all alight with ecstacy. You will explore your new body, and you will offer up each gasp and moan you make as praise to your new Masters.} (text-colour:#00DB00)[THE END.] <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #ABFFAB; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

Once you get the toy, you discover it's a lot of fun to use and - bonus! - it doesn't remind you of getting your hole ploughed by a tentacle creature. Not that it was a bad experience - the opposite in fact - but it was too good to be true. You've moved on. It's too bad there's no such thing as hot dragons who are eager to fill you up in real life, haha. Fun fantasy, though. Even if it's taken a while, you don't feel like you'll be tempted to go open the book anymore. You might sell it and put the money partway towards another toy, and then it'll be someone else's problem. Or donate it to a museum. You'd feel kind of guilty about the possibility of the new owner getting assimilated by tentacles, except they'll probably enjoy it. Anyway, there's a toy shop you've been wanting to buy from. Interesting models. //No// tentacles. And a lot of five-star reviews talking about how the toys have transformed their sex life. THE END

{<!DOCTYPE html> <html> <body> You buy it with the justification that if anything is going to prove that you've moved on from dreaming about eldritch beings filling you, it's fucking yourself with silicone in the shape of a tentacle and not wanting the real thing. Or at least that's what you tell yourself. When it arrives, you've started to get yourself worked up before you've even opened the package properly. Once the toy is in your hands, you're outright flushed, drooling a little. It's a very pretty toy and you're looking forward to finding out exactly how it feels inside you. You sideline any other plans for that evening and prep yourself to take the toy - which sadly isn't as easy as the real thing was, as much as you told yourself you wouldn't compare them. When you ease the toy into your ass, it fills you nicely. The shape and size are good, and you fuck yourself with it slowly, enjoying the build up of pleasure. But as much as you try not to, you can't help but wish it was twisting and squirming inside you, painting your insides with slime and ichor, moving of its own accord. After getting off while using it, you feel unsatisfied. Disappointed. It was good, but wasn't good enough. You go another round with it, but it's the same. The toy resembles the tentacles that fucked you enough to remind you of it, but not enough to stop you wanting more. You've fed your craving only enough to wake up a real hunger. Despite yourself, your gaze falls on the drawer where you know you've kept the book stored away. Even if you'd made your decision to move on and be satisfied with normal, earthly experiences, you didn't get rid of the book, did you? Still naked, you retrieve the book from the drawer, finding the page that you want. Anticipation flares up inside you. You swallow down drool, fingers trembling and body blazing with need, and you read out the invocation to Grolascixamm for the second time, touching yourself as you do so. If you're making a mistake, it doesn't feel like one. You don't have to wait this time. Tentacles climb from the spot right under your feet right after you speak the last work. They know you, they know how to find you, and they've been waiting this whole time for you to call upon them again. Their flesh brushes yours, and your knees go weak with the sheer elation that floods in through your shared connection. Not bothering to stand up from the floor, you lie back and spread your legs, welcoming them in. It's as good as you hoped - feared - needed it to be. Tentacles circle your arms and legs, slide over your skin, fill your mouth, fill your ass, tease ad please you to climax after climax. Your body and mind are open to everything Grolascixamm can give you, and you don't care anymore about holding back. You let yourself be fucked and remade and reshaped into a being of pure pleasure, and it feels so, so good.} (text-colour:#00DB00)[THE END.] <style> body {background-color: black;} p {color: background: #ABFFAB; background: -webkit-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: -moz-linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, #FFFFFF 0%, #ABFFAB 100%); -webkit-background-clip: text; -webkit-text-fill-color: transparent;} </style> </body> </html>

It's not entirely satisfying, but it's enough to let you go back to sleep. You give the drawer you're keeping the book in the middle finger, like it was doing this on purpose. Weirdly, the dreams fade after that. You don't have so many of them, and none are ever as intense as before. You even have wet dreams about other things sometimes! Granted, they can be a bit odd, but your fantasies these days are anything but vanilla anyway. It's probably because you kept trying to get yourself into new things to keep your mind from drifting back to tentacle fucking. One inevitable side effect is it's given you a taste for novelty, to be honest, so you've been trying out different toys. Lately you've been browsing the online shops of different indie toy makers, and you think you've settled on one that you want. [[It's a dragon dildo]] | [[It's tentacle shaped]]