From the Journal of Olivia Delacroix - Fourth entry.

The last few days feel like a fever dream born of delirium. Emma claims that I was gone for a span of a week and I have no reason to doubt her and yet, I find it hard to fathom that so many days passed. I can only assume that my wits were sufficiently scrambled by my ordeal.

Of what I do recall, the discovery of the swarm upon the cliff’s face, the overwhelming ecstasy that was precipitated by the butterflies’ touch, and the onset of the fierce tempest that followed, during which I took shelter within a crack , I related to the best of my abilities. As for what took place thereafter, I feigned amnesia, a claim that was not entirely deception.

Emma was much more forthcoming, sharing the shock of trepidation caused by my disappearance and the loss of what little slice of civilization we had salvaged in the aftermath the catastrophic event that had left us stranded upon in this strange otherworldly place. In a peculiar way, I had become accustomed to our crude little camp. Now, even that was gone. That I was able to recoup this record was nothing short of a miracle. Beyond that, only the Lieutenant’s saber and pistol and McCrossen’s sketchbook remain to us. All other supplies and clothing, meager though they were, are lost to us. We, or rather, my companions, have done their best to rebuild further inland, equidistant betwixt the beach and the cliffs where I was overcome by the touch of the Lepidoptera.

Emma also imparted their experiences with “going cold turkey” – M. McCrossen’s colorful turn of phrase. The experience was less than pleasurable and the experiment had been abandoned after several days as they came to the realization that it resulted in muddled wits, extreme irritability and, in M. Grant’s case, physical disability. In other words, their efforts to rescue me as well as rebuild were, essentially, hindered rather than aided by the absence of the fruit.

A few other things of import that I have gather, chief among them being Grant’s discovery of the cave up the beach. He and Gavin accompanied me their earlier this afternoon so that I could inspect the etching they’d discovered. As I had already surmised, they matched the style of the ones I had unearthed, although I have yet to share that, as well as so many other details of my time spent astray. 

Livie

July, 1867.

(A week prior…)

I was stirred from my post orgasmic stupor by a fearsome boom overhead and the splash of raindrops on my exposed flesh. The sky overhead had darkened dramatically and clouds roiled as rain pelted down from the heavens. As I stared heavenward, thunder cracked once more as a jagged bolt of lightning lit the horizon. A storm, and by the looks of it, I’d be wise to seek what cover I could find. The sight of the cliff drew me. If nothing else, I could shelter in its shadow. Unsurprisingly, the butterflies had fled while I lay senseless. Had I a way of deducing their path, I would have tried to follow.

Luck, however, had not completely abandoned me. A bolt of electricity illuminated the outline of a fissure, one that had been hidden from me beneath the multitude of insects earlier, or so I surmised. Naturally, I made my way towards it, seeking a more substantial shelter then merely curling up against the craggy wall.

It was a tight fit, but one I was able to navigate with minor abrasions upon one hip. Thunder tore the sky asunder once more as I felt my way within, thankful that I was not completely blind – a faintly luminous lichen shed enough light to reveal the secrets of the passage. Thick vines covered the walls like fingers. The blooms that covered the cliffs had their origin within, or so I surmised. Curious and undaunted by the unknown, I felt my way along the vine covered wall and explored deeper with the crack, my eyes slowly adapting to the dim light shed by the softly glowing fungus, fingers trailing along the smooth, leafless vines of the lustberry plant. I must have travelled thirty meters or so before the passage widened. Giving me enough room to pause upon my knees and access my situation. Perhaps it would be best if called a halt to my adventure and rode out the storm within this recess. Once the storm had passed, I could make my way back to camp and perhaps convince the others to explore further. My mind made up, I made myself as comfortable as I could, leaning against the uneven stone, eyes wandering about my temporary sanctuary until they came to rest upon something amazing – a crude design carved into the rock below an undecipherable script. Intrigued, I moved closer, examining the unfamiliar characters with my fingertips, my heart beating in my chest with excitement. It could only mean one thing. We were not alone.

One of the reasons that the professor had hired me as his aide was my skill with languages. To discover a new language was exhilarating. To be unable to decipher it, however, proved frustrating. Eventually, I gave up. As the storm still raged outside, and I was filled with anxious energy, I decided to continue on a ways and explore further. Perhaps the key to understanding lay within. As long as the passage didn’t divert, I was in no danger our losing my way, I reasoned. And so, guided by the faint glowing of the lichen and moss, I continued a ways, my fingers trailing along the berry vines, using them to assure I had a connection to the outside, my steps always careful, especially as I realized that the way before me had begun to slope downward.

If I was to guess, I would say I continued for perhaps a quarter of an hour before I came upon a chamber of sorts. It was about the size of my cabin upon the dove, perhaps slightly larger. The pathway continued on, opposite me. That, however, was not what drew my eye at first. It was the large bloom that grew upon one wall, a bloom into which the vines disappeared beneath and didn’t emerge. Obviously, this was the source of their growth.

The flower resembled a chrysanthemum the same hue as the berries that we fed upon. Stepping forward, I examined it carefully, inhaling softly, its subtle fragrance pleasant to the senses but not overwhelming. Unsurprisingly, my stomach growled reminding me that it had been ages since my last meal. It was then that I realized that, not only had the vines within the crevice held any fruit, but neither did their flowering heart.

“Perhaps its petals would ease my pangs,” I reasoned out loud. It was not unheard of, certainly. With a shrug, I caressed one of the petals, prepared to tear a small section of it from its host, dismissing the idea that it might be poisonous. After all, I was fairly certain it was the origin of the berries upon which we’d been supping since we’d arrived. It couldn’t possibly be toxic. I paused, realizing that the surface was tacky and that my fingertips clung to them. Curious, I withdrew my hand and carefully extended my tongue to give my digit an exploratory taste. It was not unlike honey. Dismissing my hunger for the moment, I searched carefully for a source, finding it easily at the center of the floret, a small well that could only be described as nectar, a much more appetizing meal than what I had planned. Reaching into the heart of the flower, I scooped up a healthy dollop with a pair of fingers and fed myself of the sweet sticky dew until I was sated.

Belly full, I once again, reclined, feeling suddenly drowsy. Idly, my fingers found their ways between my thighs, and parted my own petals, mindful of symmetry, and began to tease myself, fingers still sticky with the blooms issue…

Only later, when reason penetrated my cranium once more, did I deduce that the nectar affected me like a potent drug. I recalled earth shattering orgasms, my cries echoing within the small cavern, coming one after another until the sensations of pleasure morphed into pain which, in turn, melted once more into pleasure becoming a never ending loop of primal sensation. I think that, had I not passed out, exhausted, I would have masturbated until my dying breath.

And my slumbers… my dreams were strange, delving into madness, sensual hallucinations competing with psychedelic delusions fighting for dominance within my psyche. Much of it, blessedly, I didn’t recall upon awaking once more. What I did was disquieting enough; a dream of a dark figure rising from the eye of a glowing pool, limbs spider like and nimble, orbs the color of emeralds lit from within, the feel of its touch tingling through me as it picked at my thoughts, plucking memories from me like a child stealing from a candy dish.

oOo

Eventually, I awoke, determined to return the way I had come, sure that the storm must certainly have passed. And yet, after a moments pause, instead, I fed once more, swallowing the sweet honey like a starving waif before continuing further even when the way became dark and I was forced to slow to a crawl in a pitch darker than the blackest night. How long I stumbled about in the dark like that, I have no real recollection, only that I heaved a mighty sigh of relief when light began to seep into the passage ahead. Whispering a heartfelt prayer, I hurried onward, the light growing stronger with each uneven step, until I was bathed in strange light and standing, calf deep, in a glowing pool, one that resembled the visions I’d had earlier, engrossed as the dark shape of my fevered dreams rose silently from the center, rippling the surface as I held witness.

I stood, transfixed, water just below my knees, as it rose from the luminescent pool, its features bathed in dim light, water sheening from its flesh in slow rivulets as it rose.

“What are you?” it asked, its voice soft, yet strong, and as smooth as velvet. What, not who. Had I any doubts before about its humanity, they were instantly erased.

“Olivia,” was the only reply I could muster as it observed, appraising me with eyes the color of emeralds.

At first I thought it might be human. It was certainly humanoid in appearance. The light of the pool exposed an elongated skull topped by a multitude of braids. My breath caught in my throat as I observed more carefully. The braids seemed to be moving as if independent. Writhing might be a more precise word, reminding me uncomfortably of serpents. Its skin was mottled blue in color. A trick of the light perhaps, but I wasn’t sure. Mouth gaping, my heart pounding in my chest, I continued to stare, realizing that my first assessment was incorrect. Humanoid, perhaps, but certainly not human in nature.

Its shoulder were broad as was its chest while its arms ended in hands graced by a trio of long slender fingers and one slender thumb giving it an alien appearance. Had that been all, I might have found the courage to flee. Instead, I found myself almost hypnotized by a sextet of longer limbs extending from its torso, three beneath each arm, all of which disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

“Do not be afraid,” it said, a reasonable facsimile of a smile upon its feature showing off a mouth full of slightly pointed teeth. A carnivore, the kernel of logical thought still left to me declared. It wasn’t a reassuring thought.

“What are you?” I managed as it paused, hips half hidden by the waters. Breathlessly I watched as it paused, a thoughtful expression flickering behind its eyes and it licked its licks as if contemplating my question.

“The walkers who inhabit this island call me Isshu. It is as good a name as any,” it chuckled.

A shiver travelled up and down my spine. Had I not known better I would have mistaken the sound for human mirth.

The question that was on my lips died as it stepped gracefully forward, coming to a halt, revealing more of itself including a thick phallus that would have put even Bull to shame. I am afraid I might have stared overly long at it, my attention only wavering when the pool rippled near me. Startled, I let out a muted cry as a small bulbous object broke the surface. When my heart finally calmed itself, clearing my thoughts for a time, I deduced that it was the tip of one of the extra limbs. Fascinated, I watched as the fist like end uncurled itself, much like a man uncurling his finger, and three slender digits probed the air, flattening not unlike tongues from time to time, before finally curling again as the tentacle, for that was what it most resembled, slid beneath the surface once more.

“Your taste-smell is not unlike that of our females.”

“Yes,” I managed to whisper moments before I felt something slide over my right foot stealing my breath away.

“It has been a long time since I have touched another of my kind…”

I thought that there was a hint of sadness in its voice, although its expression never changed. Swallowing, I felt the tentacle coil about my ankle gently, and then another brushing against my left before snaking sinuously around my free ankle in similar fashion.

I should have been repulsed and yet, the touch was incredibly sensual, arousing me instantaneously. I believe I may have let out a soft whimper of longing as I sensed the digits unfurling and teasing my submerged flesh with feathery touches, as one of the serpentine limbs began to move upwards, wrapping around my calf ribbon-like until I could see its tip breaking the surface of the water, continuing to wend their way further, tightening momentarily as they paused, the digits flattening like tongues and sliding along my inner thigh until I felt the final restraints giving way and abandoned myself to pleasure and the promise of ecstasy unimagined. Already, my vaginal cavity – my pussy, as Emma loved to call it – was wet and pulsing, my juices tickling the inside of my thigh as they slowly made their way over my heated flesh. Alien or not, I wanted what it offered.

“Oui,” I shuddered, surrendering to my cravings, yearning for more as it stepped closer, the other two tentacles breaking the surface, its serpentine braids coming to life and framing its face like a writhing nest of vipers as it smiled, once again showing off a mouthful of pointed teeth.

“It has been too long,” it whispered, its smooth voice quivering with need as great as mine. “Too long.”

“Yes,” I hissed in reply as I felt the flattened digits brush against my swollen labia, forcing the breath from me in a soft gasp, my eyes threatening to roll back in my skull as I felt the remaining tentacles coil around my wrists, imprisoning me without protest. If anything, being helpless somehow heightened my desire, a strange phenomenon that I would examine later. For now, logic and thought fled me as I willed myself to become a creature of sensation only, easy enough to do with the effects of the exotic nectar still driving me.

Neither of us spoke another word for some time, although neither of us were quiet. The cave echoed with my whimpering moans as I found myself giving in to an all-consuming lust as I felt myself being pulled to my knees, the water now to my waist. It, or rather he, advanced slowly, approaching with a measured gait as it continued to caress my pussy and clitoris, his tentacles distorted by the water. I shivered as the inhuman appendages imprisoning me tightened around my limbs, the pair beneath the pools surface forcing my thighs apart as one began to explore my pussy and the other brushed tentatively against my puckered rose, forcing breath from me.

“No,” I whispered.

“No?” it repeated, pausing, my upper limps encircled with spirals from wrist to shoulder, one end sliding through my hair, almost reassuringly while the other sought out my breasts, the digits flattening as they caressed my erect nipples.

“Oh god, yes,” I whispered, breath catching in my throat as tongues turned to fingers and twisted and pulled. I watched, fascinated, my breath expelled in wonder as a small orifice appeared upon the tip of one of the morphing digits and fastened itself to my nipple, simulating a sucking motion.

“I crave your flesh,” he whispered, bending over me, his visage suddenly inches above my upturned face, his braids, resembling miniature versions of the tentacles that held me, caressing my face and sending shivers down my spine.

“Take me,” I swallowed, surrendering to what my body craved, gasping as he raised me from the waters and pulled me against him, his huge phallus sliding along my thigh until the tip was poised at the entrance to my gapping cunt.

I think that, had I not been dripping wet with need, had he tried to take me by force he would have ripped me apart. As it was, as slowly as he pushed his member between my swollen lips it pained me. Whimpering with both pleasure and pain, I barely noticed when one of his digits pushed into my bottom, elongating as it filled me, and pulsing in time to my beating heart.

“God,” I moaned, feeling him fill me both my holes, his cock throbbing as he forced my thighs further apart and slid me against his water slick smooth torso, up and down, effectively fucking me while motionless. It was too much and I felt the stirrings on an orgasm rumbling within until the need to climax consumed me, the heat of my core rising to unimaginable temperatures as I erupted.

Not once did he pause, impelling me to a second orgasm, and then a third before, finally, he spent himself inside of me, his prick swelling within my canal until I beseeched him to stop. Then, and only then, did he ejaculate, spewing his seed deep into my womb, pushing me once more over the edge, this time my climax culminating in blessed oblivion...