The opaque waters were calm, so still that they reflected the Milky Way back upon itself. Millions and millions of stars conspiring to shape the twinkling Emu that sparkled on the surface of this remote desert billabong. The creator spirit soared overhead, her image rendered small enough to catch my downcast eyes.

Through the night air, just heard, came the haunting notes of a far-off digeridoo. Soulful, earthy; the loose vibrations of one set of lips expanding to fill the wide-open spaces of this ancient land. The sound resonated of life itself, the voices of animals - kookaburras, dingos, kangaroos - blending together and rising to Her in a hymn of praise.

But that was wasted on me. I only felt the shards of my shattered heart painfully shredding my soul. Is it lèse-majesté when you don’t give a fuck anymore?

Fleeing Sydney, just driving, nowhere in particular, I’d run out of tarmac and bounced deep into the outback along rutted dirt tracks until water blocked my way. Just needing to put more and more distance between me and her as my hellish early morning turned into the middle of the next night.

A stand-up comic stops being funny when she cheats. Of course, Camille, being Camille, tried to brighten my mood, tried to lighten her guilt. But it was too late for humour; she’d permanently scarred my mind, searing an image of her thrusting a girl-cock, my purple Feeldoe for fuck’s sake, into the squishy pussy of some random comedy-groupie she’d picked up.

“But Annie, I love you. It’s just sex with her, baby.” I knew that was the end, the joker playing me for a fool by dealing me the only-sex card. If that was all she had, it just wasn’t enough. She couldn't glue my shattered heart back together, it was time to walk.

The pretty Emu sparkling on the tranquil water was no antidote to the storm that Camille’s crappy behaviour had set raging through me. Picking up a flat stone, I angrily skipped it across the surface of the billabong, taking delight in smashing galaxies into smithereens, splash by splash.

“Once trust is shattered, all is fucking lost,” I screamed into the night, my anguish startling a passing wombat.

And from the starlit shadows of the Coolibah trees on the other side of the water, a sonorous voice startled me: “In a murky space we find ourselves. A deeper understanding will illuminate our life.”

“Who are you? Some fucking wannabe Yoda?”

Their snigger gave me pause, a melodic balm encroaching on the edges of my hurt.

“Me? Not Yoda. Just an unexpected voice in the middle of nowhere. You scared?” they asked.

“Would be if I had something to live for.”

“Don’t drown yourself here. It’ll leave a bitter taste in my mouth.”

“Why would you care?”

“Organic, biodegradable, environmentally sustainable, those words are so sweet. But at the end of the day, you’ll just be a rotting corpse, totally putrid on my palate.”

“You don’t have to swim here,” I said dismissively.

“Forcing me out of my home, are you?”

“The water? No one lives in the fucking water. Except maybe the spirit of the jolly swagman.”

“Take care. This is the only place where the ghosts of his life are real and ever present.”

“Unbelievable. Waltzing Matilda was born in Banjo Paterson’s imagination. And by the way, written well over a hundred years ago.”

“And how do you know its fiction? And what makes you think I wasn’t here then?”

“No-one lives that long,” I said confidently.

I heard a splash from the shadows opposite me. And I then noticed a ripple heading my way across the surface of the billabong as celestial bodies were again disturbed. What emerged from the water stunned me, anesthetizing my mind with shock. Aspects of octopus, squid, and crab in the physique; but, in truth, this creature was like nothing I had ever seen or ever imagined.

The ochre maybe-monster stood five feet and furtively moved sideways towards me on eighteen tentacles, their one large unblinking eye staring at me. And then the penny dropped, it was they who had spoken.

“Fuck,” I whispered, “a loquacious monster! This is so not my day.”

“I know we Kraken have a certain reputation. But monster is a tad pejorative, you know.”

“A Kraken! How the hell does a Nordic sea myth end up in a billabong in the middle of the Australian outback?” I asked.

“Long story. Want to tell me how you ended up in the middle of nowhere?”

“Touché. Maybe that too is a story for another day.”

“Well, first things first,” the Kraken said, a tentacle reaching for my hand, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

The frisson of their slimy touch had goosebumps running up my arm, which gave me a shot of assurance. “That’s comforting. But this is so super weird.”

“Not every day you run into a talking Kraken, I will admit. But best you put your fear aside,” the Kraken said.

“Fear is the trail into the shadows. Fear leads to rage. Rage leads to loathing. Loathing leads to misery,” I replied, actually giggling for the first time that day.

“By Odin, I spend a century alone, desperate for edifying conversation. And all I get is a Yoda acolyte, a wannabe Star Wars nerd.”

“Small beer. I find the love of my life slut-fucking, and my reward? Social intercourse with a Kraken.”

“That may be a fairer trade, you know. Look seriously, I know it hurts, but you do realize there are trails away from the shadows of your misery.”

“Easy for you to say. You ever loved and lost?”

“The jolly swagman eventually died.” The Kraken’s voice was tinged with a deep sadness.

“You’re really are serious, aren’t you? Sorry if I’m thoughtless. It’s just that everything seems so dark after seeing Camille cheat. If she doesn’t love me, who will?”

“The shadows darken everything. You can’t see there the light, the brighter future.”

“You sound like a Star Wars nerd now, Kraken?”

“I’m not Yoda, but I think I can help. From the water, I’ll show you what I think Yoda would have shown you.”

“Like, let me get this straight. A Nordic myth and a figment of George Lucas’s imagination will somehow contrive to school me on how to mend a broken heart?”

The Kraken guffawed. “Yeah, something like that. Alternatively, I’ve been smoking the billabong, not swimming in it.”

“Such a dad joke. You’re just a wannabe-comic and wannabe-Yoda, Kraken.”

“Wannabe!” the Kraken said. “I’ll have you know Banjo Paterson thought me very wise and very witty.”

“So, you really knew him? And the jolly swagman in Waltzing Matilda is actually a real person too?”

“Yeah. They both called me Matilda. You should too.”

“Seriously fuck Annie,” I said.

“Well, perhaps a cocktail and dinner first.”

“Sorry. I mean you're seriously fucking called Matilda. And my name’s Annie.”

“I seriously fucking am. I’m why Banjo wrote Waltzing Matilda. Now, are you going to get wet or not?”

“Just because you knew Banjo, I’m supposed to get naked and disport myself for the Kraken gaze!”

“Ha. What makes you think your actually worth looking at? Like you haven’t even got a single tentacle.”

I laughed, the Kraken had me there. Disrobing, I gingerly stepped into the refreshingly cool water.

“Not a bad arse though, Annie,” Matilda observed, “Though you won’t be crowned Kraken rear-of-the-year anytime soon.”

As I lay back in the water, I felt the Kraken slide underneath me. Six tentacles, wrapping around my hips, stomach and breasts, secured me against Matilda’s slimy slippery skin; their first touch sending tingles through my body, tingles which shamelessly lapped against my clit.

“Can you count the stars, Annie?”

Overhead, given the absence of artificial light, the vast Milky Way twinkled vividly. “No, there are millions and millions,” I replied, giggling, distracted by the featherlight tickling of two other tentacles as they danced across the soles of my feet.

“Astronomers say there are a hundred thousand million stars in the Milky Way, you know.” The tentacles slurping my big toes had me shivering.

“Doesn’t that make your feel insignificant, Matilda?” Two other tentacles began to slowly trace abstract patterns on my calves, before squeezing them and melting the tension from my muscles.

“No, I’m not alone. The Emu in the Sky is with us, watching over you, me and all of creation,” Matilda said, their circling massaging tentacles drifting up past my knees. “Which star do you think Naboo circles?”

“That’s George Lucas’s fantasy, not reality.” I whimpered as featherlight tentacle touches drew star shapes on my sensitive inner thighs.

“You’re snuggling with a Kraken. You’re in no position to say what’s real and what’s not.” The two tentacles pressing against my breasts changed the way they held me. As if they had suction cups, they achingly softly clasped my nipples. “Do you see the Pointers, Annie?”

“Of course. Alpha Centauri and Beta Centauri.” I moaned as my nipples were exquisitely squeezed and, as they stiffened, gently tugged.

“I’ve named Alpha Centauri, the Jolly Swagman. It will always be the star I look to.” Another tentacle, with the delicacy of a butterfly, danced down my stomach towards my mound. The hairs on my skin stood on end.

“You know they covered Everybody is a Star,” I said.

“What on Earth are you talking about?”

“The Pointer Sisters; they covered Everybody is a Star.”

Matilda giggled. “You’re so random. But that’s apt, I guess.” The tentacles on my thighs circled lazily, teasingly inching ever higher across my skin, seemingly surreptitiously stalking my sex.

“I know my pop culture.”

“Annie, I’m thinking we should name Beta Centauri after the love of your life.” The tentacles on my breasts pulsed, suckling and releasing my stiff sensitive nipples again and again. I trembled lost in the carnal touches and then whimpered when the tips of the tentacles on my thighs met and painted my perineum with slimy sensual goo.

“Beta Centauri is so not going to be called Camille.”

Matilda sniggered. “Look for the head of the Emu in the Sky, Annie. It’s the dark Coalsack nebula around the Southern Cross.”

Everything was still, the tentacles just held me as I scanned the night sky. “I see it.”

“Run your eyes along that extension of the Great Rift trailing out to Scorpius. Stop at the nebula where the Emu’s legs join Her body. What do you see there, Annie?” The tentacles suddenly slurped and tugged my nipples hard, the sensation crashing against my engorging clit.

“Oh God. See nothing. It’s so dark, a black hole, maybe. No, wait there’s one faint star.” One of the tentacles on my perineum drifted up, rasping tongue-like between my pussy-lips sucking my oozing folds. I moaned as I focused on that exquisite touch.

“A black hole’s appropriate for an arsehole, don’t you think?”

“The creator spirit has a pucker?” I asked, my voice gruff as the tentacle reached my now sopping opening.

“Want to know what I call the star in the Emu’s bum?” Matilda asked. The tip of the other tentacle on my perineum slid across the sensitive ridges of my rosebud, adding to the exquisite feelings cascading through my body.

I sighed, too focused on pleasure to speak.

“Camille. Such a shit of a star.” Matilda whispered.

“Oh fuck,” I giggle-whimpered, the joy of dissing Camille adding to the frisson from Matilda’s sensual touches.

Two tentacles reached out and caressed my face, those touches marking me with an otherworldly glow that left me just aching. Every touch of Matilda’s felt like a balm, somehow staunching the bleeding from my broken heart.

“Annie, there’s always a choice. Want me to continue?”

“Yes. Please. I so need this.”

Seven other tentacles began tracing abstract patterns across my skin, their touches exquisitely painting slimy salve on my skin. And from each touch, pleasure waves started rippling through my body all seemingly intent on battering my clit into some sort of submission.

The two tentacles on my breasts continued to suckle and release my hard aching nipples, the building intensity adding to the throbbing of my clit. Then the tentacle on my stomach slid down and oh so lightly brushed my clit.

“Yesssssssss,” I said whimpering.

Matilda held the tentacles on my clit, my opening and my arse totally still. Nothing moved except for the water lapping against our bodies. Then suddenly, surprisingly, the tips of the three tentacles began flapping like hummingbird wings and I was inflamed by a desire, purer and rawer than any previous lust I had felt.

“Please,” I said, moaning with anticipation.

The tentacle caressing my arse adjusted in size, shrinking and sliding, without a burn, past my anal ring. Then, expanding its girth, it stretched and moulded itself perfectly against my anal walls; the nerves in my arse throbbing with the exquisite intensity that comes with the perfect fit.

But as good as that was, it only seemed like perfection. For I entered a new realm of pleasure when a vibrating tentacle-tip grasped my clit in a velvet vice-like kiss. Instantly fully engorged by that suck, the throbbing of my clit matched the intensity of my heartbeat.

The third tentacle vibrating against my opening, achingly slowly spread into my pussy. Like plasticine, it moulded to me and yet stretched me, the feeling simply heavenly. Pressing deeper, it slid over my g-spot and caressed my cervix.

A tentacle slid into my mouth and down my throat, delightfully caressing nerves I didn’t know I had. And shockingly tentacles shrunk and entered my ears and nose. Those tentacles didn’t switch off my hearing, smell, and taste. Rather they harnessed those senses to my sense of touch, intensifying my brain’s perception of every touch every tentacle made, wherever it caressed me.

And then Matilda stopped again. All was quiet, nothing moved. My understanding of edging was redefined as I stared at the Emu above, knowing I was on the brink of a special part of Her creation.

The tentacles began to vibrate. Expanding and contracting again and again. Stretching and releasing my anal and pussy walls. Their tentacles stimulating clusters of nerves, some I hadn’t realised I had. Pushing me towards a peak I didn’t, until then, know existed.

I reached the mountain top and was enveloped by a tidal wave of ecstasy. A multi-orgasmic supernova. Continuous waves of pleasure crashed through me. Each wave, like the incoming tide, setting a high-water mark. A high-water mark then exceeded by the subsequent wave.

On and on my sex spasmed, as Matilda held my ragdoll body and drew from me orgasmic ecstasy - clitoral, vaginal, and, even that loch ness monster of orgasms, the cervical, - richer, so much richer, than anything gone before.

I felt their tentacle tense against the velvet spasming walls of my vagina. Anticipating a squirt of seed, the cells in my pussy seemingly turned, like flowers to face the sun, opening themselves to the energy that was about to soak my pussy.

When Matilda came, that pulse of otherworldly energy consumed my body in the mystical fires of rapture. Beyond ten on an orgasmic Richter Scale, the tsunami of pleasure continually ebbed and flowed. Nothing had prepared me for the intensity of absolute pleasure, and in suspended animation, only Matilda’s nursing caresses stopped my body disintegrating from the joy of continuous full-body orgasms.

The aftershocks rippled through me as we drifted to the shore. Zoned out, I lay against Matilda, gasping for breath as I slowly recovered my wits.

“Beyond good. Amazing. Wow, ” I finally said, “I don’t seem to be miserable anymore.”

“You’ve seen that there always can be light, that the darkness never need swallow you.”

“I take it that it was the same for the jolly swagman. You saved him from drowning when he jumped into this billabong by yonder Coolibah tree,” I said.

“Yes. I helped him breathe underwater until the troopers wandered off, sure he was gone.”

“And then?”

“Well, we got to know each other. I guess you could say he got addicted to the sex,” Matilda said.

“Not surprising. One taste and I’m tempted to stay here too. Did you tell Banjo Paterson the full story?”

“Everything but the sex.”

“Imagine if you had told him. Another verse to Waltzing Matilda?” I said, giggling.

“I guess, though perhaps not one that should be sung at school assemblies.”

Off the top of my head, I found the words and sang them into the night air:

“Down went the swagman sinking deep into the billabong

Wrapped and given life by a Kraken’s caring tentacles

The sound of fucking is heard as you pass by that billabong

You'll cum a-Waltzing Matilda, with me”

“That’s so good,” Matilda said, laughing, “Bango Paterson would be proud of you. I adore the meaning.”

“I could stay and live off the land. Be the jolly swagman for the twenty-first century.”

“Could you? How do you get your jumbuck? Pre-packaged at Coles, I bet.”

“Woolworths actually. Their lamb section is pretty good.”

“And your seafood, freshly caught in billabongs?”

“No. At the Sydney Fish Market.”

“I would love you to stay, Annie. But I rest my case. Leaving here would have been a death sentence for the jolly stockman. Staying here would be one for you.”

“Well, you will just have to come and live with me in Sydney. My parents have a pool,” I said wearily.

Matilda wrapped me, tentacle by tentacle, against their slimy body. My eyelids drooped; it had been a long day. “Rest and dream,” Matilda whispered. And dream I did.

Mum shrieking. “I said boyfriend, you said girlfriend. Okay, fair enough, I can do that. Bit my tongue every time you bought a weird sheila home. But this takes the biscuit, Annie, a fish!”

“It’s a Kraken, Mum. I’ve told you a thousand times they aren’t fucking fish.”

“Mind your language young lady. Look at the state of your poor father.”

“He got over draining and re-tiling the pool; Krakens are particular about chlorine traces.”

“Turning the pool into an aquarium is the least of it, missy.”

“Carnal relations,” Dad said, “It’s best I only know they happen in theory.”

“Everyone has sex. Even you and mum; well once at least!”

“But not everyone fornicates with a Kraken, Annie.”

“Make love, you mean.”

“Whatever. But do we all have to know about it? The neighbours complain every time they hear you and Matilda bonking in the pool.”

More mum shrieks. “Look at this heirloom tablecloth. Ruined. It was your great grandmother’s, Annie.”

“I am sure it can be cleaned.”

“How missy? You don’t find ‘how to clean Kraken slime’ on the internet you know.”

“You looked?”

“What else would I do, can’t trust a dry cleaner to know. But, of course, it wouldn’t need cleaning if your Kraken had table manners.”

“They can’t help being slimy, mum. Just accept them for who they are.”

“Well, they should keep their elbows off the table.”

“For god’s sake, they don’t have elbows. They walk on all tentacles.”

“Knees make it worse missy.”

“I’ll find my own place then!” I shrieked.

“Good luck with that; pet friendly and a pool,” Mum said.

“Matilda isn’t a pet. They’re my partner.”

“Don’t tell me. Tell the landlord.” Mum’s look of triumph totally pissed me off.

“Just take the Kraken and go get the groceries,” Mum said, “With all those tentacles, Matilda should be a dab hand, if that isn’t insensitive, at carrying the shopping bags.”

We entered Woolworths to some strange looks. But nothing was said as we selected our fruit and vegetables. All that changed as Matilda checked out the fresh prawns.

“Boo,” a curious toddler with adorable pigtails, said.

“Boo, to you too,” Matilda said, giggling.

The toddler giggled back, holding out her hand. Matilda stretched out a tentacle and the toddler’s finger touched the tip of that tentacle.

“Boo! It’s a monster. Get away baby,” Boo’s mother called out.

“Monster!” someone else shouted in alarm. “Monster, monster!” echoed around the aisles. And a panic started, people abandoning shopping trolleys and heading for the exit, screaming.

“Not a monster,” Boo said, not moving.

Not that we heard her mother’s reply, for helicopters had arrived and first responders, dressed in fetching scrubs and body armour with shoulder pads, abseiled onto the Woolworths car park. Nurses like me, I thought, with relief; women dedicated to bringing calm to the anxious and healing to the sick.

“Mummy,” Boo said, her voice quivering in hero worship, “Biosecurity Vixens.”

Oh fuck, not hospital nurses but the famous Veterinarian nurse SWAT – Society’s War Against Tentacles - team! Dedicated to doing what it takes to be femme fatales to the threat foreign pests posed to Australia’s biosecurity.

“Seize and fumigate,” their leader ordered, her blond locks bouncing, her blue eyes sparkling as her pretty Red-headed handmaidens ushered shoppers into the fumigation tent they’d hastily constructed in the supermarket car park.

“Blond and Brunette divisions, let’s go seize and, if necessary, destroy the pest.”

As they marched two abreast or is that four abreast, into the supermarket, Matilda and I tried to hide beside a freezer packed with frozen calamari. But the well-stocked supermarket didn’t have enough space for hide-and-seek with anyone let alone Vixens.

“There it is,” a busty blond Vixen called out.

“No,” I screamed, putting myself between the Blonds and Matilda as they rushed up the frozen goods aisle drawing their tranquillizer-dart guns.

“That won’t do you any good,” a voice said from behind us. Turning I saw the Brunettes behind us, also drawing their dart guns.

From the midst of the Blonds, the Vixen in charge sashayed towards us, her body armour clinging to her shapely body. I licked my lips.

“Annie!” Matilda said.

The Vixen-in-charge’s limpid blue eyes ran up my body from my toes to my own paler blue eyes. She licked her lips. My nipples stiffened and I felt myself blushing.

“Annie!” Matilda said again.

“Forget the pest, gorgeous. Cum be a Vixen, you know you want to.”

“Fuck,” I whimpered.

“That too, baby,” the Vixen-in-charge whispered. I blushed even more.

“Annie!” Matilda said a third time. Outside a cock crowed.

On hearing the cock, Matilda screamed, “You'll never catch me alive.” Scurrying past the impassive frozen fish fingers into the next aisle, Matilda, seeking asylum in the Nordic groceries, dived into the Lurpak butter.

“No diplomatic immunity in the dairy,” the Vixen-in-charge said, her pretty face so authoritative, “Fire at will, my lovelies.” And they did, the tranquillizing darts sliding through the slabs of Lurpak like a hot knife through, well, butter, and embedding themselves in Matilda.

“Annie …” Matilda screamed, her consciousness fading.

Startled awake, I opened my eyes, my heart thudding, my body covered in a sheen of sweat and slime. And I exhaled in relief, despite the humidity seeping into the shady nook under the Coolibah trees. For Matilda’s large unblinking eye was calmly watching me from the water; only in my dreams had she fallen prey to the sexy Biosecurity Vixens.

The sun had long since banished the Emu. The fiery rays from the glowing orb high above the horizon were baking the red dirt. The atmosphere shimmered, the heat was relentless and unforgiving. All was still, except for the slurping of kangaroos as they drank on the other side of the billabong.

“Your sleep seemed disturbed, Annie?”

“Yeah. Weird dreams. You came to live with me in Sydney. It didn’t go well; you went down in a hail of tranquillizer darts.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, everything stressed my parents. Kraken slime stains on heirloom tablecloths. Tentacle sex too!”

“And?”

“I also may have denied you three times in Woolworths.” I blushed, not able to look Matilda in the eye.

“Was she hot?”

I nodded, the raspberry blush spreading.

“You deserve someone hot you know.”

“I thought I’d found her. But Camille as my future was a pipe dream. Doubled down last night imagining you could be. I can be such an idiot.”

“I can’t imagine how I could live in your world,” Matilda said. “Culture shocks all round. But, Annie, you aren’t silly for believing in love.”

“Camille letting me go really hurt. But last night, in your tentacles, the bleeding stopped. I’m scared if you let me go, I’ll haemorrhage again.”

“What makes you think I am ever going to let you go?”

“You have to. I can’t stay here and you can’t live in Sydney.”

“True, but that’s a physical separation. Hard yes, but I am here for you. Whenever you look up into the face of the Emu, look for Acrux, the star at the base of the Southern Cross.”

“The brightest star in our constellation.”

“Yes. From now on, Acrux is Annie’s star. You’ll know I’m always with you whenever you look up and see her twinkling.”

“Acrux is near the Pointers.”

“Of course. When I look into the Emu, I want to see both the Jolly Swagman and Annie at the same time; Alpha Centauri and Acrux. And when you find her, the love of your life, we’ll attach her name to Beta Centauri.”

“I don’t know who she is. I don’t know where she is.”

“She isn’t here, Annie. But you really would be foolish if you wallowed in grief and didn’t search for her. The love of your life is out there waiting for you. You’ll discover each other when you least expect it.”

“Once you go down the murky path, continually it will rule your thinking. Consume you, it will.”

“Exactly Annie, that sounds like something Yoda would say. For all of us, love is the light. Fear of hurt is such a dark murky path. Go find her.”

I knew then I had to retrace my steps, to drive back to where I belonged. “Thanks, Matilda. You’ve helped me begin to heal. I will return, I promise.”

And, as always, Matilda had it bang to rights.

A blond ponytail swayed as she turned to take a second sly glance at me. She’d already betrayed her interest with a lingering first glance. So, when her pale blue eyes locked onto mine, I held the eye contact. She blushed, looked away and whispered, “Sorry.”

I giggled, not a bit sorry. That initial shy confidence so intrigued me. And I took my time and discovered she’s someone so very special; just so very sweet, so very smart and oh so very sexy. She knows because I tell her every day, that I’m more than a little besotted with my special girl.

And now that she’s become the brightest star in my universe, it’s time to fulfil my promise to Matilda.

Tomorrow, I’m taking my Beta Centauri into the outback. She’s a little scared; venomous snakes, poisonous spiders, that sort of thing. Though I’ve not actually mentioned meeting a Kraken. But I’m positive the two of them will get on; after all, tentacles have a way of sealing the deal. One thing I know for sure is that the love of my life will be intrigued by the fact there’s more than enough tentacle to go around.

But, as she’s not Australian, there’s one thing I will be doing as we drive to the billabong. That’s making absolutely sure she can sing the words of Waltzing Matilda.