Lena lay naked on the sand in the middle of the night, right on the tideline, where the shore met the sea. She dozed on the edge of dreams, more in the water than out of it now, though when she first lay down only her feet were submerged. The tide had risen since then. Each wave took the water incrementally closer. Her feet and ankles grew wet first, her long legs followed, a few inches at a time.

Cold stars glowed in the moonless sky above. Their reflections floated in the water around her like fireflies. When she opened her eyes, which was not often, she found she could trace lines of phosphorescence in the water with her fingertips, just by just by dragging them beneath the surface of the water. The lines she drew in the water formed constellations, connecting the reflections of the stars in the tide.

She had nearly fallen asleep when the ocean water first touched the warm folds of her pussy. She gasped and woke with a start. The water felt so warm, so inviting; she was instantly aroused. She played with the notion of sliding her fingers deep inside, bringing herself to a thundering orgasm right here in the sand, unhidden from late night strolling vacationers. The beach was uncrowded. The motel lay far behind her, her boyfriend passed out snoring on the bed from too much cheap rum. Loser. She had been left alone and horny.

She found it erotic to toy with the idea: fingering herself on the edge of the water in full view of whoever might pass by.

She slid two fingers down her belly. She imagined a drunken crowd of college kids off in the distance, maybe five or six of them, male and female, laughing as they approached her. She felt so sexy and reckless, her latent exhibitionist tendencies in literal display.

She spread her legs slightly and slid her fingers on either side of the hood of her clit, teasing herself with the fantasy. The kids would approach one of them would see her and cry out, “Hey, check out that girl on the beach. What the fuck’s she doing?” Quiet would fall over them as they shushed each other, watching her, listening.

She let out a moan. In her fantasy she let out a moan as well, and the group grew silent, observing intently.

She brought her fingers down to the lips of her pussy, already wet with sea water and her own juices. She spread her legs further, opening them to her fingers. In her fantasies the group crept closer, rapt as they watched her legs widen. The men would get hard, watching her finger herself; the girls would grow acutely aware of their boyfriends’ erections. Someone would giggle and be instantly hushed. Then another tiny giggle.

Being watched as she teased her pouting pussy lips: such a hot fantasy. She dropped her fingers in between her folds and was met with a shuddering spasm of pleasure, so much more than she felt when touched her pussy in more mundane settings, certainly more than the fleeting unfinished pleasures of her boyfriend fucking her hours ago. It was as if she were touching nerves never before touched.

She ventured deeper, parting her salty wet pussy lips as both fingers plunged deeper inside her labia. She felt so tight, so soft and warm, her muscles clenching around her. She moaned again, loudly enough to be easily heard. The college kids would have found a spot close by now and settled. The boys cocks grew hard as she fucked her pussy in front of them; the women’s nipples became erect and obvious in the chilly night air. One of the girls would surreptitiously reach back and massage the bulge of the boy behind her as she listened to Lena’s pleasured gasps and sighs. One of the boys, his arm slung around the shoulders of his girlfriend, would casually drop his hand to begin playing with her hard nipple through the thin material of the tee shirt she wore.

God, it was so arousing, both the fantasy of being watched and the reality of being out under a vault of stars, naked and lying in the sand, waves lapping gently at her body as she touched herself. Her nerve endings tingled. She was so close. She spread her legs even further in anticipation. She moved her free hand to her own nipples and began to pull on them as she massaged the wet flesh surrounding them.

The boys would think of her as they fucked their girlfriends roughly that night, picturing her with her legs spread wide, furiously fucking her pussy with her fingers. The girls would think of her too, would envy her unfettered sexuality, her bravery and freedom. Her moaning gyrations would be on all their minds as they came.

The notion of them cumming as they thought of her proved too much, pushed her over the edge, and she came herself, her legs jackknifing in the rushing surf, one pair of fingers pinching at her nipple hard, another pair fingers buried deep inside her, her wildly contracting muscles clutching her hand. And the frenzy simply would not end, she convulsed again and again, in spasm after spasm, like waves pummeling the shore of her senses.

The trembling aftershocks lessened after a time, and gradually. Her entire body lay spent, every inch of her skin alight with pleasure and possibility.

She propped herself up on her elbows and took a look around. No one. The fantasy was just that: a fantasy. No one watched her. The beach was empty of people.

She lay back down into the sand, closed her eyes. Her legs remained open to the sea. Her labial lips stayed open as well, nerves alight. She dozed. As late night gave way to early morning the sea continued to rise, and lay claim to her ass, her hips, her back, her shoulders. So warm. So comforting.

She pictured herself floating on a boundless sea, stretching out in all directions, an ocean of distant stars arching overhead, glittering and indifferent. Her mind began to drift. She chased dreams of cold dark canyons, strange creatures floating freely around her in the submarine depths.

She did not feel so much as sense something brush against her leg. It was hard to be certain, so many sensations competed for her attentions. The water lapped at her legs, reached further up with every wave of the rising tide. The sand scratched at her back as well, shifting with the current, alternately uncomfortable and warmly supportive. The cool night air graced her skin whenever the tide had ebbed out far enough so that her legs were exposed.

But she was pretty sure something touched her, beyond the sea, the air, the sand, the starlight.

She shook the image of the limitless sea out of her mind and opened her eyes. She registered the glow of lights thrown off by the hotel behind her in the distance. Snatches of music carried on the breeze, from a party boat far off on the horizon. Empty beach. Empty sea.

Nothing.

Wait. No, not nothing.

She could see nothing but the slightest hint of phosphorescence at her toes. The light was almost indiscernible, and she had to blink to make sure she truly saw the eerie glow. It was like smoke, ephemeral, not fully realized.

The tour guide had said bio-luminescent algae specific to the South Pacific caused the phenomenon. The algae lit up the waters around them whenever they sensed movement, to scare and confuse approaching predators.

Predators. Huh.

Something snaked around her smallest toe. She should have felt alarm, she knew, but the temperature of the water was so warm, and the sand supporting her back so comfortable, and she felt so content, so relaxed, on the verge of dreams. Her nipples still stood erect. Her pussy still pulsed from her frenzied oceanside orgasm, hours ago.

Had it been hours ago? How much time had actually passed?

Was any of this this really happening?

She closed her eyes again, unsure of reality but oddly unwilling to question the nature of what was happening.

The grip around her toe grew lax, as if recognizing she was unconcerned.

Was something in her hair?

The dreams returned. She sailed above an ever-changing landscape, gliding through bright coral and crowded swarms of plankton, flying freely in the oddly viscid air.

She felt a trail of sensation move slowly away from where the thing rested. The point of contact shifted from her little toe to the next toe over, then insinuated itself between the two toes. Again, part of her mind wondered that she did not react with more alarm, that she could be yanked into the ocean at any moment and drowned.

Still.

So warm. So comfortable.

Her nipples hungered for attention, her pussy longed for touch.

She felt the slightest ring of pressure around both toes now. This was no mere suggestion of pressure, this was actual, discernible weight against her skin.

Should she jerk her leg out of the water?

Should she reach down to see what was touching her?

It could be seaweed. It was probably seaweed. It could be the darting of tiny, harmless fish. It could be merely the pressure of the currents of water against her skin.

It was probably nothing.

Why wasn’t she more alarmed?

A memory returned unbidden of something brushing against her foot earlier in the day, while she played in the water with her loser boyfriend. Something soft, scuttling across her skin. She remembered how unfrightened she had been, how surprising good it felt. As if it were touching nerves never before touched. She remembered wanting to spend the rest of the day on the beach, near the water.

Odd. She had never like the ocean that much before. Not until she felt that gentle touch against her foot.

She had never really considered her boyfriend a loser before, either.

Touching nerves never before touched.

She opened her eyes. Empty beach, empty sea. The party boat still lay far out on the Pacific horizon, snatches of song and laughter brought to her on the wind. A moving tangle of phosphorescence played in the water just beyond her feet.

How interesting. How pretty.

The water level had risen with the tide, both of her legs and most of her torso now fully underwater whenever another wave lapped ashore.

She closed her eyes.

Something was in her hair.

The pressure around her toe released partially, and she felt something slide into the space between that toe and the next one. It insinuated it self between the two toes, then wrapped itself around a third toe. Soon, it released that toe as well, and worked its way across her foot in that manner, wriggling into the space between one toe and the next, wrapping around each digit before relaxing and moving on to the next available space. When it had completed weaving itself between all five toes, it made its way back around, as if calmly completing the crocheting of a sweater.

It was thicker than it was before this had started. The spaces between her toes became increasingly more crowded and strained, her toes pushed apart further as the thing allowed more of its length to be revealed.

How long was it? How thick was it?

What was it?

Apparently no longer concerned with hiding its presence, the thing gripped her other ankle. She did not pull her foot away, though she felt the urge.

She wiggled the toes of her other foot, now inextricably trapped within the interwoven limbs beneath the surface of the water. The instantaneous response was a sharp, disapproving squeeze from whatever it was that had wrapped itself around her toes. The pressure mounting until she quit moving toes; once her motion stopped the pressure stopped as well. She felt as if she were being trained.

The thing wrapped around her newly entrapped ankle did not move toward the toes of that foot, but rather in the opposite direction, sliding up the wet curve of her calf. It changed direction at her knee, performed a full loop around it, immobilizing it before resuming its upward journey.

She opened her eyes to find a bright star of phosphorescence above her knee. It looked like fireworks, or northern lights. She did not attempt to flex her knee, or move her leg; she thought it might hurt. Her toes hadn’t been hurt. But she had been given a warning.

And the phosphorescence looked so interesting, so pretty.

And her pussy was wet. And her nipples were hard.

Should she be scared? Why wasn’t she scared?

Something was definitely in her hair.

She could feel the rustling on her head, sounding like whispers. Occasionally she would feel the slight pull of a lock of hair on her scalp, or a pinprick of momentary pain. But while the thing that was at her feet had given up the need for stealth, she felt whatever was in her hair was still attempting to hide its existence.

Were they parts of the same thing?

As peaceful as she felt, as comfortable and warm though she may have been, as pretty as she might find the lights in the water, a small voice in the very back of her mind cried to be heard. Demanded that she reach up and grab at what was tangling itself in her hair. Pull her legs out of her water now, regardless of whatever pain might result. Begged that she realize the warmth and comfort she felt must be an illusion, nighttime was upon her, the water was cold, the water level was rising, she had been lying here for hours. Why were her muscles not aching, why wasn’t she shivering with cold?

She realized that she was shivering. Stiff goosebumps covered her skin. She didn’t feel cold, she didn’t feel anything, but she imagined that’s what must be causing the shivers and goosebumps. She must be cold, even if she didn’t feel the cold.

Curious.

The small voice cried out again, telling her once her wrists were bound she would no longer be able to fight. Right now it only had her legs. This was her last chance to fight back. Fight before her arms….

And just like that loops whipped out of the water and through the sand and slapped themselves around her wrists, pinning her to the beach. The movement was too quick for her to see what had leapt from the water to encircle her wrists. She turned her head to either side but her hands had been pulled down too far to be seen.

She lay helpless.

Empty beach, empty sea, save for the party boat, the snatches of music and laughter. The stars overhead, burning and unreachable.

The rustling continued in her hair. The sound was louder now. Louder because, she realized, whatever was causing the noise moved closer and closer to her ears. She felt a tickling at the entrance of her ear canals, both of them at once. Shapes wormed their way into her earways, squeezing themselves into the tiny corridors. She heard a slight pop as her eardrums were punctured but no felt pain, just the uneasy sensation of something blinding poking around inside her inner ear.

And then, all at one, she realized everything was fine. Just fine. It was as if her mind had simply turned off, or been turned off, allowing her to give way to the pleasure of the situation.

The small voice abruptly disappeared.

Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.

So warm. So peaceful. So comfortable.

Her pussy still tingled from the otherworldly orgasm she had experienced before. Hours ago. Maybe days ago. She was no longer certain of the passage of time.

She felt tempted to slide her fingers down her belly again, re-experience that incredible sensation, but laughed upon realizing she couldn’t, she no longer had use of her hands. She laughed, right out loud, the sound echoing across the water.

In seeming reaction, as if reading her thoughts, the limb that had immobilized her knee began to slither upward, along the inside of her thigh. The crawl of rubbery flesh against her own excited her. The movement worked its way up her thigh until it lay inches away from her swollen pussy lips.

She wanted it. Whatever it was. She desired it.

Seeming to understand, the thing continued upward. When it parted her lips her reaction proved even more intense than when she first lay in the sand and water and inserted her fingers into her pussy, years ago. She felt nearly virginal, experiencing a physical response so intense and extreme it seemed certain she had never before encountered it.

Touching nerves never before touched.

Finger-like probings pulled and prodded at her clit and her open lips. She hungrily parted her legs wider as her salty wet canal slowly and gradually filled.

She wanted more. She wanted it all. She moaned, more loudly than she had before, more loudly than she had ever moaned before.

Something tickled at her ass.

She clenched, then forced herself to relax. She was rewarded with the invasive but deeply erotic feeling of the edges of the rim her ass being pushed aside, followed immediately by the pressure of something entering her. In combination with the thick rubbery shaft filling her pussy the excitement was too much, she came hard and instantly, her body lost in the throes of her orgasm for long full minutes, her mind a prisoner of her body.

The thing filled her ass slowly, just as it had filled her pussy, slithering forward like a snake, always in motion, wriggling to find purchase and when it did pushing itself forward from that point. Both her wet holes filled with flesh. Still the being wanted more; she found she did too. The thick palpus plunged deeper and deeper into both her cavities. Her senses were overwhelmed, too much flowing into her at once.

She felt the onset of yet another orgasm gathering in her blood and muscles, nerves and bone. Thick tubes of flesh throbbed inside her, filling every crevice, every hidden fold. Even her mind fell victim, all thought and extraneous sensation driven away by the immediacy of her welcomed violation.

The ocean water thrummed with bright phosphorescence as her body churned the water. If the stars were jealous of the display of wild light, they did not betray those emotions.

She came in a torrent, more intensely than she had ever cum before. Even describing it as an orgasm seemed inadequate. The tumult started at her extremities, her legs and arms, her lolling head. The quivering flowed through every available avenue, each sinew and vein, traveling down the pathways of her body to meet in the pulsing, numinous center of her being. Her pussy and ass exploded into wild unnameable sensations, her mind filled with colors never before witnessed. The frenzy would not end, but morphed and evolved, shifted and turned, orgasm upon relentless orgasm, wringing her body and mind of all will. She groaned and thrashed upon the sand as great bulks of wriggling tissue throbbed and pulsed inside her.

By the time she recovered she found something warm and thick had curled around her neck. Her eyes were closed, but it didn’t really matter; had they been open it probably would not have registered anyway. She was well past that. Her dreams returned, swimming in ancient black currents, surrounded by the crumbling temples and squat pyramids of ruined cities, unknowable technologies, forgotten civilizations.

Still. A glimmer of human curiosity remained. Perhaps it was the long-stilled quiet voice which had called out to her in warning, centuries ago. Returning one last time to ask her to look at herself. Rise up to see her reflection in the water. See what this thing was that had found its way into her pussy, her ass, her hair, her ears, her mind? What was curling even now around her neck?

What did it look like? What did she look like?

She had to know.

The warm, thick rope-like limb around her neck began to crawl wetly over her jaw, toward her mouth. Soon, she knew, her mouth would be filled with this thing, like the rest of her.

he summoned the strength to open her eyes and willed them to remain open. With gargantuan effort she attempted to raise her body off the sand, not meaning to stand, but merely arrive at a sitting position. She expected the rope-like appendages at her wrists to keep her held tightly to the sand, and was surprised to find that, after an initial show of resistance, she was being allowed to sit up. The looping constraints at her wrists did not fall away, nor did they force her to stay down. In fact, the thing might have actually been helping her, supporting her weight because her muscles were stiff and sore from shivering.

Perhaps it wanted her to see too.

Perhaps it wanted to see itself through her eyes.

The squirming tube around her neck found her mouth. She opened her lips willingly, and kept her teeth away from the flesh of the thing. It wormed its way fully into her mouth and down her throat.

Lena swallowed, accepting the intrusion without thought. What was left of her mind centered on one thing: bend forward far enough to catch a glimpse of her reflection.

She leaned toward the water. Again, the muscled limbs at her head and wrists helped, offering no resistance, supporting her weight, helping her keep her balance. She bent her head down. She focused her eyes. She had to wait until the next wave, until there was a still pool of water in her lap before she could view what had become of her.

The wave arrived. She looked down.

A single thick gray tentacle spilled out of her mouth, grasping suckers running along the side of the thing. It wound down around her neck, then along the contour of her belly before disappearing into the water. Similar tentacles wrapped around her waist, similarly greedy suckers anchoring themselves to her skin with an unbreakable grip, the ends disappearing into the water, where they could not be seen as they crept still deeper inside her.

The sight of them triggered another staggering orgasm, ripping through her body like a deluge. Wave upon wave, endlessly, like the sea itself.

When her head began to clear enough so that she could concentrate again, she looked down into the watery mirror. She had to wait for another wave to arrive to take one final look.

The wave arrived.

Thick tentacles sprouted out of each of her ears, looking comically like earphones. She might have laughed if her mouth were not stuffed, choked, gagged with thickening meat.

Above her ears were hundreds of thin, red, twitching feelers, much smaller versions of the tentacles that cradled her, tangled inextricably into her hair. They disappeared under her hair, but patches of baldness showed on her head, and she examined the hairless flesh closely to find the things burrowing into bloody, needle-like holes in the skin of her scalp. They moved continually, wriggling, a nest of tiny snakes, massed Medusa-like around her head in a halo. The feelers had risen from the tentacles initially, but now she saw that they sprouted from her own scalp as well, grasping blindly into the night air, searching for life. Searching for prey.

The small voice in her head let loose a terrified scream, and though it was small it was insistent, and echoed through every neuron and synapse in her otherwise empty mind.

Then the voice went quiet, snuffed out swiftly and simply. She never heard it again. She found herself content with the loss.

She was no longer who she had been. She had become something else.

Empty beach, empty sea. The party boat had gone quiet, no music, no sounds of laughter. It appeared to be drifting further out to sea.

The party must be over.

The stars watched on, unmoved.

No matter.

Rather than lay back down, as she was prepared to do, she found herself propelled forward, her body toppling over onto its side, now pulled as well as pushed by the tentacles that attached to her at every conceivable junction. She let it happen. She was curious as to what would happen next.

Her head breached the surface of the water with the next big wave, and she went under. She found she could not remember her name. But her name seemed less interesting than the virgin world around her, awaiting her touch. Words fell away, no longer relevant. A new language rose within her. She reached out with her newly formed appendages and pulled herself into the cold dark fathoms beneath the surface, exploring the dreamworld of fresh textures and currents, sharp dark spires and coldly articulated towers, thrilling to the aquatic alien cosmos that called her forward.