You wake to your slimy tentacle slapping you across the face.
"Rise and shine, Randolph!" growls a muffled voice from your groin.
Groaning, you cram a pillow over the source of the angry, muted cries emanating from your crotch; you hear the sound of fabric ripping and then an eruption of downy pillow feathers showers down onto your face.
Your tentacle slaps you across the face again, harder.
"I said, wake up, Meat!" insists the voice from below your waist. "I've been sleeping under the ocean for millennia! Now that I've taken you as my vessel, we've got work to do. Right now, though, it's time for breakfast!"
You sigh and roll out of bed.
"Cthulhu," you plead, stumbling into the kitchen. "I'm truly honored you decided to make me your vessel and turn my dick into your purple appendage, and I'm still 100% committed to ushering in the reign of the Great Old Ones, but... it's not easy having an extradimensional divinity living in my cock... and I wish you would call me Randolph, instead of 'Meat', and stop slapping me with my own penis..." you whine.
The tentacle slithers from your waistband to help you crack eggs into the frying pan. "I'm sorry, Randolph," rasps the voice from your crotch, contritely. "I know it's not easy being my vessel, but I'll make it worth your while, you'll see. Wait, we aren't out of bacon, are we, Meat?" asks the tentacle, writhing in sudden alarm.
Sighing, you get some bacon out of the freezer and begin to defrost it in the microwave. "So, after you devour a month's worth of rent in bacon, what are our plans for today, Cthulhu?"
As soon as the food is ready, the tentacle snakes out from your waistband and begins to stuff mouthfuls of bacon and eggs into your pajama bottoms, from which noisy chewing sounds emanate, mixed with what might be attempts at speech or could be groans of satisfaction. You surmise Cthulhu may be trying to talk with his mouth full again, but between the crispy bacon he's cramming into his voracious maw and the fact that his rasping voice is muffled by being in your pants, it's hard to make out what he's saying.
"Delicious. Bacon," says the voice from your groin between mouthfuls. "Auditions! We need actresses for our tentacle porn epic!