Authors: M. Caspian
Tags: #gothic horror, #tentacles dubcon, #tentacles erotica, #gay erotica, #gothic, #abusive relationships
For all fellow Goodreads tentacle fans. Happy Christmas.
This work of fiction contains explicit sexual activities between men that may offend some people. It also contains scenes of rape, extreme violence, tentacles, and reference to sexual abuse of children.
Copyright 2013 by M. Caspian
It took Will a week to throw caution to the winds, pack his bag, and check the Friday ferry timetable.
It was weird there was a big island so close to the city and yet he’d never heard of it. But then, by the looks of things, until the new route had opened getting there had meant hours of driving up the winding coast road to Redport. The new four-lane highway cut straight through old farms, now being subdivided into pricey housing estates. A towering viaduct offered a dizzying vista straight down the river valley and out to sea. On any other trip Will would have wished there was somewhere he could pull over to admire the view, but a jittery longing was fighting with logic, deep inside him, the tension too urgent to allow for mere sightseeing.
The ferry company was right in the middle of Redport, at a surprisingly large riverside wharf complex. Good-looking couples drank wine under the veranda of a cafe overlooking the quay. Happy squeals came from the families at the new-looking designer playground, painted in bright primaries.
A wizened man in a fawn coat stood in the vast graveled car park. He beckoned to Will to wind his window down.
“You for the ferry?” he said.
“Yeah.” Definitely. As soon as possible.
“You can park anywhere,” said the guy, waving aimlessly at the empty expanse.
Under a stand of cottonwood trees, a family of five lounged on the soft grass next to their RV, finishing up a picnic. Will parked a few spaces away, for the shade. He nodded to the parents as he got out.
During the drive he’d imagined Parker greeting him with glee, falling on him with passionate cries of how much Will had been missed. As much as he would like that to happen, he knew he wasn’t the kind of man that inspired that kind of emotion. He was not particularly tall and not particularly good-looking. His 5’10”, plain brown hair, and inability to be witty under any circumstances whatsoever all screamed beta-male.
He pulled his carry-on bag out of the trunk. He’d bought it for work, but this was only the third time he’d used it. He had every piece of clothing he owned in it, and it still wasn’t heavy. Another thing Parker hadn’t been thrilled about.
“You need to own more than five serviceable t-shirts and three pairs of jeans!”
“Well, empirical evidence clearly proves you wrong. I’ve dressed like this my whole working life, and never found a deficiency.”
“But you never go out, either!”
“I go out! I go to the library and the coffee shop every weekend.”
“You’re twenty-four, not eighty-four! Don’t you want to come dancing with me? Out for drinks?”
“I not sure I appreciate the reasons for those activities, although, of course, I understand intellectually that they appeal to you.”
Parker had sighed, and kissed him, and Will hadn’t been surprised when his birthday present the next month was a beautiful shirt and pants. Which he wore, even though the shirt needed to be dry cleaned. But when he’d gone to a club wearing them part of him was genuinely surprised that Parker was still there, wanting to leave with him at the end of the night. They’d gone back to Parker’s place for desultory blow jobs and the awkwardness of not knowing if he should stay afterward. Will knew it was his own deficiency. Parker was the longest relationship he’d ever had, in a life that didn’t hold many people. He guessed that was why he was here now. The ache when Parker left took him by surprise. Will’s sense of loss was a scab sitting over some deep wound, but he didn’t know if he was upset because he missed Parker, or because for some unknown reason the thought of where Parker had gone made him want to pick, pick, pick until it bled and there was at least something visible for the pain he felt.
He bought his ticket at the tiny office: a one-roomed Portacabin run by the same old guy in the coat.
The old guy shrugged. “Not a lot of demand. Mainly for freight. Makes it pricy, of course.”
The adrenaline at the thought of finally getting to the island overrode his concerns for his wallet. Will tucked his credit card back in, and walked down to wait for the boat.
The only other person on the wharf – a gaunt thirty-something without luggage – paced back and forth, hands restlessly kneading the fabric of his pants legs. Will’s gaze took in his shaking form and briefly met the unsteady gaze of the red eyes. Will wasn’t a big fan of spontaneous public interactions, but he did feel concerned.
“Um, excuse me. Are you all right?”
The man looked at Will, their eyes level. His eyes were red, all right, but he also had terrible burns, the skin peeling away from his forehead and cheeks, the flesh beneath raw and weeping.
“Oh! Do you need some help?”
The man’s eyes looked right through Will, as he brought one hand up to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail.
“I think you
need some help. There’s a medical centre just up the road, I saw it on the drive in. Do you want me to give you a lift? My car’s just over there.”
Will gestured to the end of the lot, where the picnic family were folding up their red-and-white-checked blanket and stowing Tupperware into a wicker basket.
The ferry picked that moment to come chugging around the bend in the river, heading for the dock. It looked quaintly old fashioned, the tiny open-sided cabin and smokestack right out of a picture book. Will felt more than a slight sense of unease. He’d expected something built in this century. He wasn’t good with boats at the best of times. He’d wanted to not have to look at the water, for starters.
The attendant came out from his cabin and stood next to Will. “If you want anything to eat on board best get it now. She’s not been updated since the 50s. No snack bar.” He chuckled. “There’s not even life jackets, truth be told. Thing’s are picking up now, of course. They’ve ordered a big new one, a cat, fast. Trip takes two hours now, the new un’ll do it in one. Got a coffee machine on board and everything. It’ll be here next year. Well, supposed to be, anyway. We’ll see. Oh, yes. We’ll see, indeed.”
Will leaned over and spoke into his ear, gesturing slightly towards the man beside him. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s okay.”
The old guy waved his hand. “Don’t worry about our Cameron. He just needs to get back home. Been away too long. I’ll see him onto the boat. Someone’ll pick him up on the other end, make sure he gets where he needs to be. We’ll look after him, don’t fret.”
“Do you live on the island as well?”
“Course. Can’t rely on mainlanders to do the job. It’s pot luck if they turn up any given day or not.”
The ferry drew closer to the quay, a man on the bow ready to throw a thick hawser. The old guy stepped forward, ready to catch it. Will noticed the family climbing back into their RV, starting the engine. He kept an eye on it to make sure the dad didn’t nudge his car.
Will jumped, and swung around. The voice behind him was guttural and harsh.
“Please. I don’t want to go back. I can’t take any more. Help me. Please?”
It was the burnt man — Cameron. His voice was ragged, as if each word took a lifetime of effort. He was close enough for Will to see bulging veins in his neck, the skin waxy and translucent, and underneath his shirt cuffs his wrist bones and hands were cadaverous.
Will took an involuntarily step backwards. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. You’re Cameron, yeah? Apparently someone is going to meet you on the other side. It’ll be all right.”
Cameron laughed, and Will took another step back. Cam’s voice spoke of despair and hopelessness and the knowledge that all our time on this sweet earth was a joke played out against us by a universe that didn’t even bother to know our names.
“The one thing it will never be again is
When Cameron moved he was so swift that Will didn’t catch it all. One second he stood there, looking at Will, his eyes weeping from burst blood vessels, and the next Cameron turned and sprinted across the parking lot. Will thought he was going to skirt around the RV, now accelerating across the empty car park towards the main road. But somehow, impossibly, Cameron misjudged the distance, and leapt directly into its way. He hit the front of the RV with a flat, meaty thud. Will saw his hand poke out around the side of the windscreen, and then it fell to the ground. The RV lurched, as if driving over a rock, then stopped.
Will threw his bag to the ground and sprinted over, the gravel slipping under his feet. The two parents were climbing out of the vehicle, the dad already in tears, yelling at the kids to stay inside. The woman held a phone to her ear, but Will could see there was no point calling an ambulance. He had lived twenty-four years without knowing what the inside of a human head looked like, and he wished he’d remained ignorant.