Page 15 of Clutching Cthulhu’s Pearls (Time for Monsters)

Epilogue—Two Years Later

“And the bear bachelors chased Goldilocks from their home, cursing their broken chair. The frail, old woman hobbled the best she could on her cane, but even in her drowsy state, she escaped unharmed. She learned her lesson. Never enter a strange home without invitation again,” I read before gently shutting the aged storybook.

The pages have warped with the constant assault of humidity that comes with raft life. Phin has asked about replacing it more than once, but my fear of humans keeps me glued to the raft. I’d be worried sick over my family’s secrecy and safety every second I was in town. Despite the money we’ve stolen from people wandering too close to us, I also can’t justify the cost when we need more crucial supplies. Supplies, like rope to mend our fishing nets, I can barter or purchase from other people living their own quiet raft life. It would take me forever to find a bookstore—let alone this book in a bookstore. What if someone followed me back? What if I were harmed and had no rescue?

“I don’t understand why the Bears can chase that mean old Goldilocks out of their home, but we must hide when someone enters ours,” Crusoe pouts with his little arms crossed over his chest. I’ve discovered our hatchlings develop five times faster than a human baby, but can you imagine my surprise when he said his first word while marveling at the flakes falling from the sky that first winter? He’s the most verbose of our children, with a strong streak of fairness and justice.

“Because nobody owns the river,” says Princess, with a flip of her hair over her shoulder. She’s parroting my response to his complaint. We have the same argument every time I read this story, but the children fuss if I skip it. Sometimes, I think they want the argument more than the story.

“Next time, I won’t hide,” Crusoe states in a bold new objection to our life.

“Yeah, we’ll hunt down those pesky people and eat them!” I don’t know if Frank or Fred made the inappropriate comment, so I wag my finger at both of the giggling troublemakers.

“We don’t eat people. They taste gross,” replies Wilhelm, our smallest son. He wiggles his tentacles at his siblings while pulling a silly face.

All the hatchlings laugh except our eldest, Jacob, who rubs his bald chin with glassy eyes. Now that they’ve learned the difference between males and females, It doesn’t help that Princess lacks tentacles, too. I make a note to chat with Jacob about his human face. He loves our private chats and may open up to me about his body issues. I love all our hatchlings for their unique gifts, and it pains me to see how Jacob’s using them to build walls around his heart and isolate himself. The siblings don’t feel anything less than love for him. It’s all drama in his head.

He's as sensitive as Phin.

“That’s enough with the giggles. It’s time for bed,” I say, tucking them into their nest. They snuggle together in a bed of reeds under their cozy blankets. I kiss each one while collecting hugs from tiny arms, barbels, and tentacles.

Splash!

My head whips to the door. That’s Phin’s signal that someone is approaching our raft. He enters and exits the water soundlessly unless he’s sounding an alarm. The hairs on the back of my neck lift in fear. We’re tied to a fallen tree for the night, which usually isn’t as dangerous as tying our craft to someone’s dock. There wasn’t a house in view when we selected this place. Whoever they are, we aren’t encroaching on their property, so they should have no reason to interact with us.

“Goodnight,” I whisper to the children as I close the door to our expanded enclosure. There’s no need to alarm them. Although I hope I can count on Crusoe not to overreact and calm the others when I lock them inside. All this talk of vengeance makes me worry that one of the boys will try to play the hero.

“Good evening to you too, darlin’.” The man shuffling down the riverbank is three times my size. A black cavern of rotted teeth tops his scraggly brown beard. Thankfully, the beard covers his pale chest, bulbous belly, and pelvis. Worn boots with one pink toe sticking out the top stomp into the shallows to get a closer look at me. Every third step is a stumble, as if he’s hit the bottle before strolling into the woods alone.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” I say pleasantly.

I find the simpler the folk, the more kind and genuine they are, so there’s no reason to be rude. I’ve befriended and bartered with all sorts—from the plain’s farmers to the bayou’s gator tamers. We wouldn’t have half the luxuries we own without them. For every bad apple, we’ve encountered ten sweeties.

“Not as lovely as a woman traveling alone,” he says, giving me every reason to be rude. My smile drips away as if he splashed it from my face. “ Where’s your menfolk?”

“Swimming,” I say with practiced ease. We’ve encountered this scenario a thousand times since fleeing Leopold. Even the children have practiced the procedure. Phin hides beneath the surface, waiting in the murky water to pull this stranger under by his ankles while I try the more diplomatic approach. “My husband loves an evening swim before retiring.”

“He left you all by your lonesome—”

“Oh no, he swims nearby,” I say with a curt head nod. “I bet he’s watching us right now. Please, do you need help? Have we traded with you before?”

It’s one last hope that he’s a trader who is more comfortable bartering with a man. I’ve met a few of those, too. They’re harmless—just as skittish as I am—most either have strict religious rules that keep them from doing business with a woman or an overbearing person in their life who makes them keep their distance from women. We usually part ways when they realize I won’t call my husband to greet them. They curse me as they retreat, but words have no power over me.

“No, darlin’,” he drawls. “We’re strangers in a temporary sense. Do you reckon we could get acquainted before your husband returns? Him being swimming and all.”

Something about the inflection of his voice when he says swimming suggests he believes I’m without a husband. Phin can’t hear the exchange from below and waits for me to jump in the water as his signal to attack. I’m half tempted to jump in just so I don’t have to fight off this guy’s advances. But crude behavior is no reason to add another death to Phin’s list of victims. We don’t need anything on this man’s person—I doubt he has two nickels to rub together. He hasn’t touched me, and I won’t give him the opportunity.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s returned to land or not, he sees us now. My best advice is to stay where you are and state your business. He’s got quite a temper and doesn’t suffer fools.” While I give my final warning, I rush to the raft’s edge to lift the mooring ropes off their tree branch. His bloodshot eyes follow my movement as he chews his thoughts…or food particles found in his beard. We stare at one another like two cats facing off.

“No reason to fly away, little birdy,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Stay where you are,” I scold, grunting as I dislodge the anchor line from the rocky riverbed. After a few tugs, it gives—no doubt helped along by Phin beneath the raft. Why isn’t he closer to the man? He must be between the raft and the man when I jump in, or the hatchlings will be defenseless!

The current swiftly carries the raft to the middle of the river, where an eddy slowly spins us sideways. We move in circles instead of downriver! My attention is divided between the swiftly turning current and the man advancing on the raft. If I had my steering pole, I could push off the bottom and maneuver around the miniature whirlpool. My hair swings as I swivel my head back and forth to keep both dangers in view.

Do I retrieve my pole from the shelter’s roof, stay where I can keep an eye on the stranger, or jump into the water to alert Phin?

“Or what, little birdy,” he says, shuffling faster with more stable footing than I thought his addled brain could muster. The water is up to his knees in a blink of an eye. He stoops and pushes off the bottom to glide toward me. “Why would you run off if your husband is meeting you here? There’s no husband ain’thr. We both know it—”

“There is so, and he doesn’t like you bothering us. Go sleep off your drink and leave us be!” My tone is mousier than I’d like, but my final warning is clear.

He plants his meaty paw on the raft, rocking it severely. He boosts his top half over the side, blasting me with the stink of alcohol and unwashed human. I kick at his shoulder to push him away peacefully, but he grabs my ankle. We fall into the water, but I don’t hit the bottom.

I bounce off Phin’s forearms and roll back onto the raft in a singular motion. Spitting water as I catch my breath, I crawl to the far side of the shelter to retrieve my steering pole. Phin will take care of the drunk. I must release our watercraft from the eddy spinning us and leave the scene. Who knows if the man was alone or if a group would search this area for him?

I poke between stacks of rocks at the center of the mini-whirlpool. Please don’t let me stab Phin accidentally! I must have faith that he predicts my escape and knows to dodge pole jabs at the southern edge of the raft. Pushing left and then right, I wiggle the raft free of the current. Its agonizingly slow descent toward the Mississippi River delta drains the adrenaline from my veins. I collapse in a heap and thank the newly emerging stars we survived another encounter. While they aren’t frequent, I don’t think I will ever get used to hiding my family from every human who exists.

“He won’t bother us again,” Phin whispers as he rolls beside me onto the raft.

“You didn’t have to…”

“No,” he chuckles, “he’s on the banks.”

I peek around the shelter to where we previously moored the raft. The drunken man pounds his fist into the mud, spraying muck over the back of him. He lost a boot in the scuffle. The greying sock dangles from his foot as he toes his weight up the banks. He yells obscenities about sabotaging reeds and frigid women.

“I’m grateful he blames the plants for holding him under while you escaped instead of a monster—"

“Well, mistaking your tentacles for reeds is an easy mistake,” I say with a coy smile. Something about the way Phin defends us without causing unnecessary harm is very attractive. I run a proprietary finger over his chest muscles, down his abs, and to his flaccid cocks.

“What is it, Mrs. Phineas Guett? Do you reach for me because you miss the reeds?”

“I reach for my husband’s tentacles so they taste my desire to ride his cocks.” His tentacles and barbels swarm my body and fight the clothes sticking to me. I unclasp my dress before he tears it open again. No way am I cooling my ardor because we must search the riverbed for lost buttons.

“How indecent!”

Phin’s growl cuts off my giggles as he rolls on top of me. He crushes my lips against his mouth as he probes my nether lips with his tentacles. I wrap my legs around his waist to give him access to my sopping entrance. My hips lift and jerk as he works inside my holes.

“Oh, I—” Tingles start on my mound where his smaller cock drips green pre-fluid onto me. My eyes cross with need as I reach between us to pump more of the intensifying liquid where I need him. His larger ovipositor rubs beside my clit to lift my passions higher. It’s assisted by a tentacle that alternates between dipping inside me with two others and sucking random places on my cunt.

He lowers his head to my open blouse to tease my nipples with his barbels. They stiffen to peaks in anticipation of his hot mouth. The pressure of his weight increases as he braces himself on his elbows. With his hands free, he wastes no time cupping and kneading my breasts. I love the confinement of my body between the raft and his heavy body. It reminds me just how big and strong my chosen male is compared to me. I’m not a petite lady and always felt like a giant among humans, but Phin makes me feel like a tiny treasure.

“No eggs yet,” he says between pants. He shuttles himself through my fist, coating both of us in his fluid. “My body may sense we aren’t settled yet and doesn’t wish to give us more hatchlings until we find a home. This summer, my love—"

I reach between us to smear some of his green ejaculate onto my fingers. We eye it like co-conspirators before I suck my digits clean. His lips curl into a naughty smile that makes my heart stutter.

“It’s not about more hatchlings. I want to love you,” I whisper, gazing deeply into his eyes. “You must know my body is overwrought with desire for you. I’m ablaze with the burning from your lubricant. I need you now.”

“That, my love, I can do,” he says, kissing my eyes, nose, and cheeks before claiming my mouth.

He lifts his head to give me one more wicked grin.

Using two arms and two wide tentacles, he flips me onto my belly. He laughs at the little yip of surprise that escapes me. Another tentacle snakes under me to lift me onto my hands and knees. The rough sticks under my legs contrast with the smoothness of Phin’s tentacles roaming my body. I arch my back to communicate my need and receive two exploratory fingers along my slit. The burn spreads. He’s lubricating me…everywhere.

“Not kidding, Phin,” I pant. “Take me now!”

I’m rewarded with his massive oviscape rammed inside me. He’s seated to the hilt. We share a moan of relief, echoed by the river birds who watch us. Each ring on his giant cock scrapes the sensitive tissues within me, making my eyes cross in pleasure. I’m stuffed full—eggs or no eggs.

Phin presses against my hip bones as he roars a release from his smaller cock that splashes my lower back. It drips down my crack and over my puckered back hole. There? Do I desire the smaller phallus there? Whether it’s the intensifying nature of the green fluid or my further descent into depraved activities, I need to be double penetrated. Now. Even his pinky finger working his ejaculate into my ass isn’t giving me relief. I swing on my knees to press us together harder.

“Easy, love, easy,” Phin whispers, placing a firm hand on my hip to stop me. “You will tear. We must wait for your exit to open like a womb—”

“This is nothing like my womb,” I snarl. “Give me more!”

He switches to his middle finger, judging by the spread of his webbing over my cheeks. The digit doesn’t reach deep enough. His webs are in the way! I may combust from the inside out. Whimpers and whines leave my mouth like a feral puppy while I impale myself on his larger cock.

“Stop moving. Breathe out, and bear down,” he says in his commanding voice.

I freeze as if he’s turned me into stone. He squirts directly into my back hole before pressing his tip forward with agonizing slowness. No more than an inch is inside me before he’s pulling out. Tiny wiggles slip it in, further and further, while bumping every happy place inside me with his larger cock. When he’s bottomed out, I’m stretched, stuffed, and in a state of bliss.

“Are you okay? Am I too much?”

“Your slow pace and pauses for confirmation are too much,” I say with a tilt of my hips against his pelvis. “Give it to me. ”

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“You were made for me, and I for you. If I’m sore tomorrow, you can baby me and scold me for not being cautious. For now, show me why I chose a beast over a man.”

Phin’s growl sends shivers down my spine, which vibrates our joined bodies. His hands appear at my shoulders, bracing himself over my body. There’s no doubt in my mind that I am his prey. He’s everywhere. Inside, outside, above, and with tentacles writhing below me. His scent is in my nostrils as deep as I’ve taken his cocks. The snaps of his hips knock me forward, so my shoulder hits his chin in successive thumps.

My low belly coils tight. The walls of my channels flutter and squeeze his invaders. Low-careening groans escape my mouth until they’re silenced with a fat tentacle. Stuck on his limbs and pressed between him and the raft, there’s nowhere to escape his pounding. My desire soars higher and higher. I lose the backdrop of our lovemaking. Whether I’m floating on water or a cloud, I couldn’t say.

His oviscape thickens.

I shatter into a million pieces.

I pulse from head to toe—maybe even my hair follicles. Euphoria floods my system. The gentle pumps of my vagina pull Phin’s orgasm from his two cocks. A deluge of spend splashes my insides and runs down my legs.

“No eggs,” Phin puffs as he rests his forehead on the back of my neck.

“Still fun,” I reply with a giggle. His chuckle rumbles along my back. “I’m messy, thanks to you.”

As my contractions quiet, he pulls out, dominating me by holding me in place with his hands. I twist around to gaze at the look of pride in his eyes as he watches his fluids dip out of me. My male loves me dirty and used as much as I love it.

I can be a respectable mother and a shameless vixen in his care without judgment. His acceptance of me is what I love most about our raft life. He may have to hide from humanity because he looks like a monster, but I hide, too. According to society, I’m a monster on the inside. No tentacles or webbed limbs, but a wanton woman is more feared than any beast. With Phin, there are no secrets…except those we share between ourselves.

“What are you thinking, Hairy?” He says, painting my hips and cheeks with what expels from my body.

“How grateful I am to be with you.”

He lets me go as I roll onto my side. I open my arms wide for him to carry me. As we slip into the water, he cups my mound so I’m not shocked by the temperature change. Tentacles coil over my nipples for the same reason. There’s no teasing, only protective pressure. It’s those little touches of love that I’ve always wanted. Someone attentive and kind…but as monstrous as me.