When You Wish Upon A Star

Transcript

I float inside you, restrained, limp, woozy with pleasure, darkness, a slight burning starts in my limbs and I can't move. The pain begins. You reach into my mind, probing, deciding what part of me to consume next.

You find my memories, and with an eldritch command they are laid bare for you. I feel your tentacles and pseudopods shiver inside me. I hear it gurgle and I can't tell who's making it.

There's a tug at my head and suddenly I'm reliving how I got here. Growing up, Papa always went to church on Sunday nights. He always took Mother with him.

Papa loved me so much and saw to my every need growing up. He gave me toys when I needed them, helped me with schoolwork and astronomy, chased away the boys when they came around. He said to me, Star, you're special, and what is for them is not for you.

My girl is destined for great things when the constellations are right. I asked Papa if I could ever go to church with them. Mother said it was forbidden.

I hated her. How she tried to drive a wedge between Papa and me, how she enforced rules I didn't understand, but most of all, towards the end, how afraid she was. The day I ran away was a Saturday like any other.

We said our prayers. We reviewed the maps of the stars. We learned about the creatures of the deep Pacific.

Papa made me my favorite seafood dish. We had it every Sunday. I loved the way he seasoned it.

He always made sure I ate every bite, and it was so good, I couldn't help myself. I never questioned where he got the fish crab. I was unaware we didn't live near the sea.

The day after was a special Sunday, my 23rd birthday. Papa said we'd have visitors, special visitors. Mother looked afraid.

I went to work, a shift at a local bar. The men there never groped me, never looked at me the same way they did the other girls. They tipped me very well.

Papa yelled at me once for wanting to buy one of those genetic heritage tests. I just wanted to know a bit more about where our family came from. He said I knew all I needed to.

That night, I made an unusual amount of money. They all said it was a birthday gift. The old men in the bar smiled at me, showing missing teeth.

They all said, Happy birthday, star. Blessings upon you. Their breath stank.

I was happy to go home. There was a strange car in the driveway when I got there that night. The lights inside were bright, and the curtains drawn open so I could see the living room from outside.

I saw two men in long dark coats, wide-brimmed black hats, and sunglasses, of all things, talking to Papa. Mother, in her foolishness, opened the front door and stopped me. She was pale, sweating.

She whispered to me, Run. I looked over her shoulder and sighed. One of the men took off his hat and sunglasses as he spoke with Papa.

I ran. I couldn't run fast enough. The tires of my old car squealed as I drove away.

My heart didn't calm down for a long time. A week later, across the state, I found some friends that would let me stay with them. After an extensive internet search, I would learn our town had no church.

I struggle in your grasp. I choke on you. I try to squeeze you out of my ass.

I clench my pelvic floor. I don't want to relive this. I don't want to be yours.

I don't want to be special. I can barely wiggle. If I try to scream, you cut off my air.

The pain intensifies until I relax. There's another gurgle. You take us back again.

I thought I was safe. I changed my identity. I moved around towns.

I took odd jobs and bad ones. I worked at a bar, then a strip club, then as a hooker. The way Papa smiled at those men was burned into my mind.

Were they men? I never wanted to find out. I wanted to break his rules, so I let the men in on the streets.

Whatever they wanted. Whatever I wanted. It felt good to be, as Mother would put it, defiled.

Common whore, the men would say to me, angrily. I reveled in it. Being like the other girls.

I never looked up at the night sky. It reminded me too much of him. I never ate seafood, though what they served was nothing like the seafood I knew.

Eight months after my birthday, I was giving a john head when my face started to burn. I almost bit him. I screamed.

I thought, did he slap me? But no, he was my most gentle client. I spilled out of the car, clutching at my cheek.

I looked at the sky and saw a flashing green star. The man stared at me. His eyes grew wide.

He drove away so fast. I looked into my pocket mirror and there was a symbol there on my cheek. It glowed green.

It pulsed. In time, the throbbing of the star. The girls took me to the hospital where they treated it like a burn.

None of them could see the glow. None of them could see the star in the sky. I was the only strange star they knew.

Two days later, my friends all turned on me. I didn't know where to go. I had no one.

So I headed west. It felt good to head west. The burn felt cooler the farther I went.

I was walking between towns when the police picked me up. At least, I thought they were police. They said they'd take me to a shelter.

They said, you're safe now, star. My blood ran cold. I hadn't told them my name.

One of them showed me a small oil painting he had in the car. It was the symbol on my cheek. I screamed.

They laughed. One of them said some words. They hurt my ears to hear the words tasted of ash.

I blacked out. When I came to, I was at your lake. I found myself chained to a wooden pillar, the edge of the water shimmering through the trees.

The moon was high in the sky, and the green stars shone in the distance. A man in a strange robe stood before me. He had an ornate dagger in his hand.

I thought he would stab me for some reason. I heard voices behind me. I recognized the police.

Some uttering words in that terrible language. I recognized one of my friends that I stayed with. Her high-pitched laugh making me nauseous.

I heard the nurse that treated my face. His voice was deep. I heard Papa.

The man in front of me started talking. His voice was kind, pitying, a strong southern accent. He explained just how screwed I was.

There was no escape. I was to be a sacrifice. He called it the God of the Lake.

A Shoggoth. You. He described you.

Your massive form, the pseudopods and tentacles and eyes and mouths that should not be. The eternal hunger you feel. The power his group draws from you.

A cult, he said. He told me what you would do to me. How I would be trapped and consumed for one hundred years to feed your power.

How I was special. He left suddenly, and the voices faded. I thought I could hear chanting, but the sight of you rising from the lake took all my attention.

You crashed through the foliage. You oozed towards me. Your slime covered the chains, the pillar, and me.

I heard the chains break with the force of you. I could only look on, wild-eyed, as my world changed again, the second time in as many moments. You engulfed me.

You restrained me. You entered my mouth, an evil breathing tube. I felt you down in my stomach.

You penetrated my ass, squirming up into my guts. Your slime caressed my pussy, gently parting my lips and filling me to the brim. I felt what could only be your breath on my cheek, inhaling the symbol.

We moved into the lake, but I felt not one drop of its water, wholly consumed, deeper inside of you than you were in me. Your stink was savory, like papa's seafood. Suddenly, you were in my mind, promising me freedom, that the cult had everything wrong, that they could never understand a being as mighty and old as yourself.

Your touch awakened something in me. I could tell. My cheek was glowing, though I could see nothing in the void of you.

I felt desire, wicked desire, like when I first opened myself up, when I first broke the rules. You sensed it, too, and so you started to take me, a tight sheet of muscle across the whole of my flesh, writhing, pumping, pulsing, in and out of my mouth, over and over again. I remember the taste of cum, the pleasured moans my mouth could bring.

I thought about how I wanted you to come, if you could. Your slickness thrust up my ass, setting my nerves aflame. No man could give this to me, make me feel this.