Vaid Empire: Mother of Tentacles
Chapter 2
Unknown Date.
Unknown Location.
“The artist receives an appendage with which to create.”
Synaalag flexed the tiny tentacle, newly grown from the mass that was his body. The first of many to come, it squirmed in the liquid of his surroundings.
As it tickled the walls of his living prison, he felt his mother move in reaction.
“The selected believed they chose. Instead, they were made to play their part. Rejoice, for they granted the artist a paintbrush.”
18th of Onis, 768 BVE.
The Holy City of Aslyd.
Quivering, Aifa felt the tentacles writhing against her as she remained tightly wrapped in their grasp. Fighting to regain consciousness, the reality of her predicament slowly returned to her awareness.
“The Red Vessel returns.”
As if a well-trained pet, she opened her mouth as a tentacle neared her, allowing her to suckle at its tip like a newborn. The nourishing seed sliding down her throat had quickly become a familiar sensation after days of her new routine. Viscous and thick, the slimy liquid spewed from the tentacle to pour down her throat. The very seed that had claimed her womb now claimed her mouth, almost suffocating her before slowing to a trickle.
Aifa had been destroyed, yet parts of her mind had slowly come back to life. Though she’d never be what she once was, now reduced to a mere fertilized toy within the slippery tentacles of the great Onaalag, she felt echoes of her strength return. As if urging herself to fight, she squirmed against her many slimy bindings, for the temporary freedom she had enjoyed on the first night had been torn away. From the moment her womb had been filled, her only purpose seemed to be to discover new ways of begging for the creature’s slimy touch. With her arms and legs held tightly together, tentacles wrapping to constrict her feminine form, Onaalag hadn’t done more than wriggle its tentacles against her vulnerable red body.
“Please…” her pleading began the moment the tentacle left her mouth, feeling her body burning with untouched arousal. The slime coating her crimson skin never ceased its tortuous tingling, only serving to remind her of the mind shattering pleasure Onaalag had granted her. A tentacle tightened around her thigh, sliding upward to brush gently between her legs. It retreated, leaving her wanting. “I’m at your mercy! If I’ve offended you…merely free my arms!” She felt her loins tingling, driving her to madness. Even her own fingers would be enough.
Already she felt faint stirrings within her womb, all but certain of her pregnancy. The creature’s child was steadily growing within her. Such a fact would have driven her into a consuming panic once. Now, she could only moan with satisfaction.
The tiny developing tentacles of her unborn child seemed to squirm more often as time passed, always causing Aifa’s lips to part in a giggle at the ticklish sensation. The feeling was so odd, so alien, she nearly hoped her offspring would move more often, granting her the tiny hints of pleasure she craved.
“The time for delay nears its end.”
Finally, nearly wanting to pray to Onaalag with gratitude, she felt the constricting tentacles around her begin to retreat. Slowly, as other tentacles moved to seize her wrists and ankles, she made no struggle as her limbs were pulled far apart.
Nearly every inch of her skin had been drenched in slime, only heightening her painful yearning. The slime never ceased its tickling sensation, usually faintly, though in some places not. Her drenched womanhood throbbed as her legs were spread wide, fully exposed and vulnerable.
“God yes…please…I can wait no longer…” she begged as she felt the tentacles beginning to caress and squirm against her. Even her thin tail found a tentacle curling around it, as if binding them into one.
“The Red Vessel must be committed.“
“I am…committed…great Onaalag…” she muttered, feeling the tentacles slithering up her parted thighs and arms. With her legs held far apart and arms pulled outward, she could do little but shake her hips with excitement as the tentacles moved. “I shall birth your child,” she said in a voice that was nearly her own once more, now dripping with a desire she had once fought. “What more…could I possibly do?”
“Committed in every aspect, every inch of your being. The line requires guidance, protection, a nurturing hand from the mother.”
“I’ll…ensure our child survives…” The words appeared to please the creature, for the tentacles crept closer. Gliding across her skin, her untapped lust only increased with each movement.
“We seek an artist. We forge the path to a true God. One must be certain.”
The tentacles stopped just short of touching her eager vagina, sliding back and forth where her thighs met the valley between her legs. In frustration, she attempted to buck her hips, as if the movement would urge them to proceed closer.
“A mind shattered. A mind rebuilt. Only then will The Red Vessel be truly committed.”
“Please…I don’t understand!” she cried out in desperation, her anger rising at the ever so vague voice echoing within her mind. “I can’t withstand this any longer!”
Slowly, writhing against her, she felt the tentacles begin to caress nearly every inch of her body, slipping in their own slime. To her great dismay, they seemed to avoid her most intimate areas as if seeking to drive her to madness. Even her antennae remained untouched, their sensitive surfaces an untapped reservoir of potential stimulation.
“I carry your child…Onaalag. Have I not earned-” Her words were cut off as a tentacle began to wrap around her head to cover her mouth. She uselessly struggled to free herself, only for a second tentacle to join the first as it curled around to cover her glowing blue eyes.
Immersed in consuming darkness, she squirmed under the slimy touch of the many slick appendages. Her sight and speech denied, she could do nothing but focus on each movement of the tentacles as every nerve of her skin flared with tingling arousal.
Only the wet sounds of the tendrils offered any distraction, though they only served to coax her desire further. They should be inside her, not merely caressing and massaging her skin.
Whispers eased into her mind, prodding at her inner core and pouring a steady stream of additional arousal directly into her subconscious. She attempted to shake her head as if that would banish them from her mind, yet even that small freedom was denied as the tentacles around her head held firm. She whimpered, entirely helpless.
Each passing second felt like an eternity. Or was it a minute? An hour? Feeling a growing panic, she attempted to scream, muffled helplessly as they licked over her skin. Her vagina ached for attention, throbbing for the faintest touch. The slime made her tremble, tickling her to insanity.
“A yearning breaks. A mind shatters. Pleasure takes the rest. You should fear what you seek, for you may find it too much to bear.”
Her body yearned for that promised pleasure despite Onaalag’s warning, struggling in its grasp. If a single tentacle would only touch her lower lips…or even a nipple…
Surely hours had passed by now, her mind reeling for any escape from her agonizing denial. Her glowing blue vagina burned with an excruciating need, every inch of her skin stimulated by the slime and wet caresses. Never had she been so close to an orgasm for so long, her vagina untouched yet soaked. Her climax hung over her, ever so close, yet always just beyond her reach.
She wanted to scream, to beg, to promise her undying loyalty if he’d only enter her desperate body. Her flexible limbs shook with anticipation for a penetration that never arrived.
What did arrive was far worse, for she gasped in surprise as she felt a tentacle prod between her legs. It nudged her vaginal lips before its tip began to gently lick up and down between her blue labia, spreading new slime over her lower lips. Her loins quivered, a hint of what she needed. Long had she begged for such a sensation, a touch she had craved. Now that it had arrived, she found herself needing more. Her body wanted to be penetrated, yet the creature seemed content only to tease her as a fresh wave of tingling slime claimed her vagina.
The added stimulation was nearly enough, however, as she attempted to arch her hips in desperation. Moaning uncontrollably, she felt herself take a final step closer to her long-awaited orgasm. A building sensation grew in her loins, her body struggling to reach a climax. For the first time in FAR too long, an orgasm felt achievable, within her reach. She needed only to concentrate, to savor the sensation until…
Nothing.
Utterly horrified, she heard whispers coursing through her mind as her pleasure hung in the air, the very start of an orgasm that never truly arrived. Frantically bucking her hips, it felt as though the whispers were holding her at the very edge of her limit, preventing her from passing over into ecstasy. They denied their pet.
Screaming against the tentacle muffling her cries, she felt pulses of pre-orgasmic sensitivity rippling through her, utterly desperate to seize her climax. Her body automatically prepared for the approaching flood of pleasure, beginning a process it was well accustomed to, only to panic as it couldn’t quite fulfill said process.
“A mind is claimed, torn asunder, and built anew.”
Attempting to thrash in her bindings, though unable to provide much resistance against the powerful hold of the tentacles, she began to weep in desperation. Her senses and nerves were heightened to an extreme she had never before faced, so utterly close to an unreachable finish. Aifa felt herself slipping from reality as each minute dragged by in perpetual denial. Another hour slipped from her awareness, then another. Held at the very brink for so long, her mind struggled to remain whole as her natural instincts malfunctioned. Her body was attempting to adapt to her torturous denial, trying to endure, and failing.
The tentacle lapping at her sensitive folds never slowed nor sped up, taking cruel enjoyment in its slimy explorations. A second tentacle joined it after another hour slipped by, focusing instead upon licking back and forth over her painfully sensitive clit. Her entire body shuttered, both unable to achieve an orgasm, and pushed well beyond one. The conflicting and paradoxical sensation ignited new emotions within her, each bursting into a maddening mixture she failed to contain. She needed to scream. She needed to cry. She needed to cum.
A third tendril, to her torment, found the pair of antennae atop her forehead. It began to stroke the right antenna, nearly seeming to play with the delicate red bristles as if running over a brush. She cried out as the stimulation overwhelmed her, frustratingly remaining unsatisfied. The whispers held her orgasm within her mind, gathering it into a mental orb she could nearly see, yet never touch.
As each hour passed, she came to understand every aspect of the word desperation. Hardly could she think beyond her own aching loins, for reality had long since dissolved. Kept at the very edge for so long, she was reduced to a quivering, weeping creature wrapped in tentacles. No longer was she a person, a Cavari. No longer was she Aifa. The last remnants of her mind fought to escape her tentacle captor, melting away with every passing minute of denial. She was merely a vagina soaked in slime. She was merely a pregnant womb obsessed with an unreachable satisfaction. She was merely pleasure and denial, a pussy throbbing in agonizing arousal as her nerves ignited uncontrollably.
“I can’t…I can’t endure…I’ll die…I’ll die…” she began to repeat within her mind. “I’ll die…I’ll die…I’ll die…”
“Die indeed, to be remade.”
Her consciousness nearly faltered as she finally felt the tentacle begin to slip into her womanhood, her vagina drenched both in slime and her own juices. The mere sensation of it sliding to touch her furthest depths broke her mind once more, a feeling that would’ve been more than enough to push her over the edge. The whispers continued instead.
The tentacle began to thrust as her body begged for it to push deeper. Unable to cum, what had once been her mind flared with gratitude every time it entered and cried out for more when it glided out. Never could she hear the individual words of the strange whispers. They continued to creep through her head, filling her with the voice of her new master, her God. Who had she been? Was there a life before her denial? Her eternity was a deep ache, her pleasure unable to take another step forward.
When she was certain she had never experienced an orgasm before, for denial was her only remaining memory, the whispers subtly shifted. Instantly, as if a dam had burst, she screamed as hard as she could possibly manage as her much obsessed over climax claimed every inch of her body, destroying her. Pure ecstasy ripped through her until she no longer felt her body. She merely floated in darkness, her form a blinding white of ecstasy.
Pleasure became her universe, more satisfying and overwhelming than she could ever hope to endure. The whispering only seemed to drive her sensitivity higher and higher until she could do little more than convulse violently.
The climax continued, never stopping as second after second passed. Whatever remained of her limits had long since disappeared, her pleasure far beyond what she could endure while never dimming. Half a minute passed as she remained seized in painful bliss, then a full minute. Another, and a third, leaving only an empty vessel wrapped in tentacles her orgasm persisted for several minutes.
When the enhanced orgasm finally began to fade, her muscles mindlessly spasmed and twitched, exhausted. Thoughts floated through her head, flickers of consciousness held together only by the strange whispers now woven into every aspect of her mind. A memory flashed. An instinct sparked. Above all, a single thought claimed dominion over the rest.
She. Was. Onaalag’s.
The tentacle never slowed, thrusting in and out as others found her nipples and began to lightly tease them. Her body could do nothing to protect itself, containing only thoughts that shattered, emerged, and shattered once more.
Again, pleasure built, her body hardly recovering from her first orgasm before the tentacles pushed her over the edge of another. Again she seized, convulsing. As a minute passed, then another, every second was both the deepest agony and the height of impossible bliss.
Her thoughts gathered. “I…I…” she attempted to think, only to find herself cumming once more. Her thoughts fell away, no longer truly hers. The whispers filled her mind, coaxing even the deepest aspect of herself before shattering them into dust.
Another hour was inflicted upon her before finally, mercifully, the tentacle slid from her well used vagina as all others came to a stop. They lightly squirmed against her skin.
“P…ple..p…” her lips uttered when she was able, attempting to beg as the tentacle left her mouth. The thought felt unfinished, incomplete. The appendage maneuvered to slide its tip into her mouth, and she instinctively suckled at it while tasting the nourishing sperm pouring down her throat.
“Replenish yourself. The process begins.”
Horror filled her ruined mind as the appendage left her lips, understanding his words enough to dread.
Then, feeling the tip of a tentacle pushing into her vagina, she hardly had the strength to cry out.
20th of Onis, 768 BVE.
The Holy City of Aslyd.
“Such a beautiful day to welcome his arrival!” Mauron said, placing his hand upon his daughter’s shoulder. “You were far too young to be present during the last visit of The Creator.”
Sarui stared at the sky, concealing her anticipation with an uninterested frown. They stood together atop the ziggurat, feeling the humid air caressing their red skin. “When shall he arrive?”
Below, the gathered masses chanted loudly like a praying sea. Mauron turned to her, granting his eldest offspring another inspection. The priestesses had decorated them both lavishly, tracing the bare bodies of The Knowledge Holder and his daughter with intricate patterns of golden paint. A large ceremonial headdress had been placed on Sarui’s head, concealing her long white hair. Mauron touched the small golden rings piercing her nipples, nodding calmly with approval. She was worthy to stand beneath their God. “None can say with precision. Ten years ago, he arrived in the morning. Ten years before that, we had to wait until the evening. Every decade brings their surprises.”
Sarui huffed, her red feet already sore from waiting. No longer was she an ignorant child like the rest of her sisters. This holy anniversary was her chance to witness their creator and pray for his blessing. “One would think a God would be punctual.”
Mauron eyed her with disapproval before walking to the edge of the ziggurat. The population cheered as many spotted him, and he raised his hands to greet them. “They’d never forgive me if they learned what I must do.”
As he played his part, waving to the population as they waited, he felt the whispers caressing the back of his mind. They were his constant companions, inescapable from the moment his predecessor had perished. His parents hadn’t hesitated to present him before the priestesses, knowing he had been selected.
The stone beneath his feet felt warm in the hot jungle sun. He looked across the holy city, knowing the knowledge of his people stemmed from the strange whispers. The buildings, the walls, the ziggurats, even their farming techniques had been whispered into the minds of The Knowledge Holders before him.
Faint echoes of a nearby pleasure touched his mind, hearing the satisfaction of the monstrosity buried beneath their city. They were as familiar as his own beating heart, knowing the great Onaalag was enjoying his latest sacrifice, his Holy Mother. Such was their ancient bargain, knowledge granted for the service of young wombs. There was no other way to satisfy the creature’s inner nature to seed fertile females. There was no other way they could’ve uplifted themselves from the pitiful state of their ancestors, hiding from abominations within the surrounding vegetation. Onaalag’s guidance had been a gift, yet now…
Mauron turned to gaze upon the great brazier burning behind him, feeling a twitch of his eye as his calm expression remained. He could only wonder what the great Onaalag would do if it knew they burned every single abomination that sprang from the bellies of his sacrifices. There was no other way to ensure their safety, until now. “Forgive me, Creator.”
As her tail flicked back and forth with impatience, Sarui finally allowed an eager smile when the population began to scream with fervor, hearing the thundering echoes of their approaching God. Upon the horizon, she glimpsed a colossal object approaching from afar, speeding steadily towards them. As it grew closer, her eyes widened at its immense size, making out the shape of the strange boat-like structure that carried their God. It dwarfed the city below as it hovered above, its hull made of white metal. Flames large enough to roast the surrounding jungle roared from the rear of the vessel, propelling the structure into place high above them. She gazed up in astonishment, for tales did nothing to prepare her for the glory that now hovered above her.
The Chimira had arrived. The Creator waited aboard his vessel, as their holy texts explained. Though he would not lower himself to meet his creations, Mauron knew he watched from above. The Knowledge Holder splayed his arms wide, basking in the glory of his maker as the population erupted into prayers and chants.
“The only blessing I crave is your forgiveness,” he whispered in a tone that was easily outmatched by the screaming voices below. The Creator would hear regardless. “Forgive me for what I must do.”
Though this day had only held a religious euphoria for The Knowledge Holder in past decades, he now felt nothing but guilt. The whispers continued to caress the back of his mind as he thought of Onaalag. The Creator’s first creation was beneath him, the oldest creature upon Ayphieal. Mauron thought of his selected warriors, men prepared to commit a horrid blasphemy for the greater good of them all. They’d be somewhere below now, awaiting the day he’d grant his command. His eye twitched upon his calm face. “Forgive me for what I’ll set forth in your absence, my great Creator.”
Sarui stood at her father’s side, mirroring his posture. She wanted The Creator to see her feminine curves. She wanted him to see her worthy breasts. One day, her father would die. Such was the inevitable end of mortal beings. On that day, the great Onaalag would select another in his place, and her family would be cast down among the rest of the population. “Bless me with luck, holy Creator. Bless me with the opportunity to become something…more than the common rabble.”
The population continued to shout, reaching up like a violent red sea. The Chimira hung high above, granting them no response but the promise of a watchful eye.
Mauron felt his face harden with dread, thinking of Onaalag.
***
Hanging limply in the grasp of her master, Aifa’s body could no longer move, no longer do anything more than stare blankly into the dark depths of the cave as the tentacle pulled free of her well-used vagina.
The whispering began to shift within her once more, feeling her thoughts collect, shatter, and consolidate once more.
“Rebuild.”
Images of her own body seeped into her mind, seeing a vision of her belly swelling with child.
“The Red Vessel, the first calculated mixing of genes.”
Not understanding, she watched as the vision showed their child reaching forth from her womb into another, draining its own seed.
“The line continues towards our purpose.”
She watched as another tentacle abomination slipped from the second womb, seeking a third. On and on it went, recognizing herself standing over each mixing of sperm and ovum.
Every vision coaxed forth her thoughts, piece by piece, arranging her mind to fit Onaalag’s whispers.
“I…I shall lead them…protect them…” she managed to mutter, her thoughts gathering long enough to speak.
“The line mustn’t falter. A god awaits at the end.”
“Th…the…Creator?” A childhood image of a red woman flashed in her mind, speaking of their God from myths passed down through generations. Could the woman have been her mother?
“No. We seek the artist. We seek a true God.”
Who was she? Was she Aifa? That name was familiar. Yes, perhaps she was. Slowly, she found herself nodding at the strange words of her master as an oddly warm and comforting sensation grew within her.
Further images forced their way inside. The sight of a massive white pyramid towering over a sprawling city claimed her consciousness, far larger than anything she had ever seen. Massive tentacles descended from the sky, wrapping around the pyramid. Feelings of terror and joy crept through her like tendrils, and she was certain she’d have lost consciousness if not for the ever-present whispers caressing her mind.
“Seek Synaalag.”
“Seek…Synaalag,” she repeated. “Where…is Synaalag?”
“The end of the path. The culmination of our suffering. The magnum opus of creation.”
The whispers gradually weaved her mind together. She found her thoughts slowly clearing, moving her fingers and toes. Had this always been her body? She felt the tentacles moving against her, enjoying the tingling slime as if for the first time. This was her skin. She remembered clawing through vegetation as her hands twitched. These were hers. Her feet, her arms, her legs, each brought a new memory of hunting prey and hiding from predators. When she felt the soreness of her womanhood, she remembered soft moans as feminine fingers of various lovers had teased her bioluminescent folds. Even her tail lightly swayed below her, the antenna at its tip flaring to life as it sensed various compounds in the air.
“Onaalag…I…love you.” The words slipped from her lips easily, as naturally as if she were speaking to a being she had known all her life. Perhaps she had.
Visions of The Holy City of Aslyd found their way into her mind, seeing its many citizens scrambling in terror. Remembering the white pyramid, the black ziggurat seemed insignificant. A moment later, the cause for their panic was soon apparent, for she watched as an army of tentacled monstrosities poured over the walls. A creature more terrible than even Onaalag led the hordes, claiming the many black buildings in the grasp of its colossal tendrils. A deep shutter of foreboding ripped through her, a feeling she both recoiled from and accepted.
“Sacrifices are required of us all.”
She saw tentacles breaking the necks of men, wrapping around the bodies of women. Screams erupted through her mind as the red forms of hundreds of Cavaries were ravished, their fertile wombs filled to conceive beautiful abominations. She could feel her blood mixing with countless creatures, her…descendants, their tentacles of her own body. There was a thunderous roar above their heads. A flash of light. Tentacles writhed in a world of darkness until…a pale face gazed back at them, a pretty young woman with black hair belonging to a species she had never encountered.
“The Red Vessel must be committed.”
“I’m committed,” she stated without question. A certainly claimed her tone, feeling as though the purpose of her birth had been placed at her feet. “Onaalag…my love…I shall protect your bloodline with my very life.”
A tentacle slid around her waist until it settled on her belly, unleashing images within her that could only be of their unborn child. With curiosity, she realized she was looking inside her own womb, watching the creature within her squirm. She felt it, seeing its tiny tentacles rubbing against her uterine walls.
How long had she waited to select a proper mate? How many had she rejected, desiring only the best? She felt a radiating power she couldn’t quite understand deep inside the child within her, and she knew with certainty that she had found her desired mate. “Great Onaalag…master…our descendants shall claim this world.”
Her mind solidified, her name within her reach. Once more she was Aifa, reborn.
“A means to an end. Shattered as you were, rebuilt anew, the artist shall have his canvas.”
As the tentacles around her arms began to recede, she felt others move to support her back as if a web of appendages. A surge of motherly affection claimed her as she began to caress her stomach lovingly, eager for the day she would birth her master’s legacy.
A tentacle gently nudged her recovering labia, stroking her lower lips soothingly. As it carefully slid inside, she felt firm in her convictions, her aims, her love. This is where she belonged, for no other life would do.
“Seek Synaalag.”
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