Squidboy: Part Two

Part One

With little to cover my strange new appendages but a long frock coat, I kept to the shadowy corners of the street, trusting the gloom and fog of London's streets to provide my cover. My entire body trembled as I walked, for fear that I would be seen. Every passing pair of eyes caused me to shrink beneath my coat.

Unbeknownst to the passersby, long curling tentacles twisted beneath the coat, each strange appendage protruding from my waist and coiling around my chest, my back, and legs. They were still foreign to me, a horrific reminder of the sinful deed I'd done in the dingy basement of Dr. Lustcraft's manor. I wore no shirt beneath my coat, because no shirt would fit me properly now.

I could hardly imagine myself returning to London society in my condition. At best I would be outcast, branded a freak, a pariah to be shunned by my former friends and family. At worst, I would be prosecuted for my debaucherous act. There was only one person I could think of who would not be shocked by my new appendages. My twin brother, James.

I crossed the street, barely conscious of the hansom that nearly ran me over as I stepped too hastily onto the cobbles. The driver cursed at me and swerved to avoid me. My tentacles twitched in response, hugging me tight as if to comfort me. My body ached where the tentacles protruded—not as badly as might be expected, considering they'd ripped through my body from the inside—but I was still tender, sore, as if from a dozen bee stings or the needle pricks of a fresh tattoo. It was worse when they moved around. I willed them to be still, and they responded.

I was still figuring them out. They seemed to act of their own will at times, like a cat's tail, swishing constantly, but I did have some measure of control over them. I could direct them to be still, or I could move them around as I would my arms or legs. They were strong, stiff yet flexible, soft and fleshy, slick but not slimy or wet. Yet they also seemed to have a wicked, playful side. If I wasn't paying enough attention, they would slip beneath my coat, giving any watching eyes a shocking glimpse. Their exhibitionist tendencies were going to get me into trouble.

As I arrived at our family home, a large estate surrounded by gate and garden and set in one of the more fashionable neighbourhoods of the city, I continued to keep to the shadows. Avoiding the front gate in order to avoid being seen by any of our family's many servants, I managed to scale the wall on the east wing of the house. My newfound extra appendages proved useful in the endeavour, and they supported me as I hopped down and landed in the garden. I needed to stop thinking of the tentacles as a separate being; they were part of me now, and the longer they were attached to me, the more they felt like nothing more than an extra set of limbs, no more foreign than my own arms and legs.

As I crossed the garden, I saw—to my profound relief—that the light was still on in my brother's bedroom. I approached the house and started climbing. My brother's room was on the second floor, adjacent to my own. The brick wall proved as easy to climb as the wall surrounding the house, and with the aid of my tentacles, I quickly clambered over the balcony. Catching my breath, I rapped softly on the balcony door. I tucked my tentacles beneath my coat once more.

"Ethan, is that you?" I heard James's voice.

"Yes, it's me," I whispered back. "Let me in."

I heard the latch opening, and the door swung outward. I hurried inside, careful to keep my coat closed so James couldn't see what had become of me. Even my perverted brother would need some amount of warning before seeing my freakish new body.

"Ethan, what's going on?" he asked, keeping his voice low, for which I was grateful.

I closed the door and sat on the edge of his bed, shaking. I looked up into my brother's eyes, a reflection of my own. The anguish was written plainly on my face, and my brother mirrored my expression.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, sitting down beside me. He reached to put his hand on my shoulder, and I pushed him away.

"Don't," I warned. "Don't touch me. Don't...even look at me. Please, James, I'm begging you."

Uncertainly, he nodded. I appreciated that he was being somber and serious for my sake; it wasn't customary for my rakish brother. "Here, take off your coat," he offered.

I shook my head. "I can't," I said, and when my brother persisted, I let out a long, drawn-out sigh. I needed to tell someone what had happened, and there was no one I could talk to besides James. I started from the beginning, telling him that I'd gone to see the doctor he'd mentioned.

"You went to R'lyeh Manor?" he asked, incredulous.

"I told you I would," I answered.

"I thought you'd chicken out," he said, honestly. "You always do."

"Not this time." Without further explanation or preamble, I unbuckled my coat.

Trembling, I stood, and with my back to my brother, took the coat off and let it fall to the floor. I heard him let out a single breath, a muted gasp that made me tremble more violently. I needed him to say something, anything at all, to let me know that everything was going to be fine. I turned around and looked at him, letting him see the curling tendrils wrapping themselves around my body.

Until now, my brother and I had been identical, if not in personality then at least in appearance. Our bodies had been one and the same, each with sandy blond hair, a spray of freckles on our thin shoulders, boyish good looks, a roguish charm to the smiles that played about our pink lips. Now, suddenly, we were different, our bodies clearly marked by a difference so vast we could have been different species. The tentacles, so alien in their appearance, thick, green and snakelike, lent an inhuman aspect to my appearance. I felt a vast distance opening up between me and my brother, until at last, my brother spoke.

"My god," he said, closing the gap between us in an instant. He put his hands on my bare chest, and instantly I relaxed beneath his calming touch. He put an experimental hand on one of my tentacles, and smiled as it curled in response to his touch. "Incredible."

I wiped my eyes. I hadn't noticed but tears had begun to well up in my eyes. I'd known my brother wouldn't reject me, but it was good to hear him say so aloud. I said as much.

He grinned and pushed me playfully. "You always were the sensitive one."

"But what am I going to do?"

"Win our bet, I suppose," he said, sighing. "Pity. I was rather looking forward to getting to have my way with you."

Our bet, that I could lose my virginity before my nineteenth birthday, to a man of James's choosing, had high stakes. If I failed to meet the conditions of the bet, I had promised to let James do the honours himself. My brother, who delighted in taboo, seemed to be hoping I would lose, while I was mortified by the notion of committing incest. I loved my brother; I didn't love my brother.
But the man I was supposed to seduce was Sir Victor, a man with a fetish for freaks. With my newfound tentacles, I now had the bet in the bag. The only thing was that I was no longer sure it would be worth it. After all, I was hardly certain that what I'd done was any better than committing incest. Besides that, if I had to spend the rest of my life with tentacles, I didn't know what I would do.

"You always were the perverted one," I said, playfully pushing him back.

He sat down on the bed and ran his hands through his hair, grinning. "Now, isn't that the pot calling the kettle black, eh, Squidboy?"

I snorted. "Seriously, James, what am I going to do?"

He patted a spot on the bed beside him, and I sat down. Then my brother laid out his plan, and I wondered for the second time that night what I'd gotten myself into. The plan, for now, was to go to the Yellow Tiger Club, where I would pose as a courtesan—which was a much more glamorous term than the role deserved—and hope that on Sir Victor's next visit to the club he would request my company.