Anya has heard about the tentacled angels in legends and stories. On her home island, it was believed that they were healers in ancient times.
They were in some way, another form of life – a form of life that Anya didn’t really understand. From what she had heard, they could cause people to transform. These tentacled beings also did not possess the idea of “self” that humans do.
Anya’s copper-colored hair flowed around her waist. The island was hot, her tall and beautiful figure was browning in the sun. She had not lived on the island for many years; she moved away when eighteen, and now, she was twenty-eight.
She became a little curious about these tentacled angels and started to read legends in old books. All the descriptions were quite vague. But one account, in particular, seemed particularly weird and strange. It made her pause with fear and confusion, but, in a strange way, it was magical. The account was as follows:
“In the past, people honored the tentacled angels. These are another form of life, so different from our own. They generally keep to themselves, but occasionally they may find an interest in a person. When this happens, the person will often dream strange dreams, and will find that their minds become filled with images of the sea, of patterns and shapes that are beyond our reckoning.”
Anya slept to the sound of the waves, as the warm air blew through her window. And that night, she did have strange dreams.
Anya dreamed of a place of liquid, she felt the liquid around her legs and up to her waist. In the distance, there was a strange light, a light that flowed the colors of silver, orange, and violet.
As she approached, she saw the form of a woman. Her upper body boasted large breasts, and her smile was kind. Her lower body was a mass of writhing tentacles, moving and flowing like liquid light.
There were various other women surrounding her, but, in some way, they were attached to her. The woman who was upright had tentacles leading from her to the other women, and between their bodies, the tentacles pumped with waves of light.
One of the women lying down looked to be in a perpetual state of orgasm. Her right leg had become engulfed by a tentacle. Another woman looked quite similar to Anya, with copper-colored hair. This woman had a tentacle flowing between her legs, and she seemed to look at Anya with a knowing and acceptance of love. A fourth woman lay above the liquid, a tentacle seemed to have covered her whole head. A fifth woman seemed to have one tentacle attached to her face, and another to her vagina.
“Where, where is this?” Asked Anya.
“We are a tentacled angel,” said their sweet voices, which sounded like the gentle roar of the waves.
“We protect and look after your world, but sometimes, we feel a new love. We also have to mate, but, when we mate, it is different. If you wanted us, you would remain as you are in other people’s eyes. But every night, you would return to this water, and be a tentacled angel. This happens to each of us, every night. We come here as women, all in our early twenties. By the end of the night, we have merged into one, our bodies fully possessed by each other. Now you must awaken. When you next dream of us, you may decide.”
To be continued…