Noelle’s Tentacle Gains, Part 1

“The Long-Long Club invites you to partake in a free trial of our services. No card required. Sign up now, and your trial order will reach you within five minutes, guaranteed!”

Noelle was no stranger to online porn adverts. They were mostly guff, promising one thing whilst sending you somewhere completely different. But this one boasted an impossible product, and an even more impossible delivery time.

The ‘Long-Long Club’ claimed to dabble in tentacle pimping. Like, actual living, possibly-breathing tentacle monsters. In the advertisement there were several women being treated to the attention of far-reaching, penis-like tentacles, expressions of ecstasy on their faces. One was hanging upside down, another was getting getting her shirt ripped open, all of them writhing with pleasure in the clutches of long, thick, brightly coloured… things.

“There’s just no fucking way…”

And in five minutes too. Even more than the fairy tales, that annoyed her the most. Who in their right minds could believe that? No postal service moved that quickly. That this ‘Long-Long Club’ expected people to not realise the sheer stupidity of their claim irked her to no end.

So Noelle, her ‘me-time’ interrupted by an affront to mankind’s collective intelligence, registered to the Long-Long Club with a backup e-mail account and ordered her ‘free trial’.

The e-mail binged a notification. “Thank you for joining the Long-Long Club. Your trial will be with you in five minutes. Please enjoy!”

Satisfied, Noelle leaned back in her chair. She was confident that nothing would arrive, especially since she hadn’t even been asked to disclose her address. “If something does show up, I’ll eat my dildo.”

Not that she was against the idea of tentacles overpowering her and treating her to a one-person orgy; her pornography history could attest to that. She just hated to get her hopes up. And hated even more the idea of some smug hacker believing they had fooled her. Wonderful though they were, fantasies belonged in the mind, not in the real world.

Noelle idly spun her cheap office chair to face her student accommodation room, liveable but cluttered with discarded clothes, unpacked boxes, and adorable stuffies. If someone, or… something, did happen show up… Perhaps it would be best to clean up? Just in case?

She scoffed at the thought, chasing it away. The website was absolute bunk; she had signed up just to prove it. Nothing was going to happen.

She glanced at the time on her monitor.

Three minutes.

Noelle slid her underwear down her legs and tossed it into the half-full laundry basket. Well, she had been planning to masturbate anyway. Her socks, skirt and shirt she kept on and turned back to the computer. Her wandering eyes landed on that picture of a woman having her shirt ripped open, then looked down at her own, still buttoned. It was one of her few good shirts. It would be a shame if it got torn during any… activity.

She shook her head. It was nothing but a fantasy. The website was a lie, it had to be. She wasn’t going to be fooled by some wishful prank.

Two minutes.

She decided on a compromise, she unbuttoned all but the third from the top button, still hiding her breasts. “That’s it. No more. Don’t get excited.” She drummed her fingers on her knee, in time to the seconds she may or may not have been counting in her head.

One minute.

Noelle’s body tensed. For the last agonising minute, she was trapped between her desire to not be fooled by an obvious lie… and a deep seated wish that it might be true.

Zero.

Noelle held her breath, her heart pounding. The moment of truth was upon her. She stared at the door, and realised that if someone was delivering a package, they’d be arriving at the dorm entrance. In a panic, she headed for her door, heedless of her attire, and grasped the handle.

A sound stopped her; a weird, alien sound, like someone tearing a thick piece of fabric inside an echo chamber. Noelle’s heart spaced out for a beat. She turned to look behind her.

And there it was. A single lone tentacle, grey and smooth, with a slightly moist sheen and a rounded head, wobbling in the middle of her room. She stared at it for a frozen moment, then tracked its length; the thing’s body protruded from under her bed. The head of the tentacle bobbled curiously, as though it were looking about the room.

“Holy hell…” Noelle whispered. The tentacle stopped its bobbling and turned in her direction. She held her breath as it gradually advanced, extending towards her face. She shrank back against the door as the grey length closed the distance. Closer and closer it drew; too close. She put out a hand to block its progress. The tentacle bumped into her hand, then withdrew a little, as though surprised by the impact. Noelle pulled back her hand, the place where the tentacle had touched her was slightly damp with a warm moisture.

The head of the tentacle reached forward tentatively, then bobbled about, confused. A spark of insight lit up inside Noelle’s head; it was trying to find her hand again.

“You can’t see, can you?” The tentacle wobbled to face her direction, and she chuckled at the absurdity, feeling much more relaxed all of a sudden. “You’ve got no eyes. So… you must track objects by sound, right?” She cocked her head. “But you’ve got no ears, either.” The tentacle didn’t reply, perhaps from the lack of mouth. “Oh!” She snapped her fingers. “You can touch things, you must be feeling my voice, rather than hearing it.”

The tentacle vibrated, emitting a high pitched murmur. Noelle found it absurdly adorable, more than a length of grey, fleshy rope had any right to be.