It's the perfect morning for a little bit of fishing; the air's cool, the water's calm, and the sun's shining high above me. I can feel myself practically drifting away to sleep as my quaint little fishing boat cuts through the water like a knife; it's serene, almost too serene, in fact.
While the sky above is teeming with life—the cawing gulls and buzzing insects are making that very evident—the sea below, on the other hand, is dead silent. Even after hours out on the water, I have yet to see a single fish swimming below the surface; it's like something has scooped them all up before I could even set foot on the beach.
I can't really complain, though; despite my luck, it's still a beautiful day out on the water. After all, any time that I get to relax by myself is a good time in my book. It's my day off, and I don't want to worry myself—I'm just going to take this moment to enjoy the peace and quiet instead.
After a few minutes of drifting through the sea aimlessly, I'm jolted out of my half-slumber by the sound of heavy splashing nearby. Peeking my head over the side of my boat, I can see an eerie looking silhouette underneath the surface of the water. It's huge, whatever it is; the ripples are making it look like nothing more than an unrecognizable, shadowy blob of ink. I don't think it's a shark—I'm far too close to shore for that—but I don't know what else it could be.
If there's anything that may have spooked the fish away, then it's probably this thing. I'm even feeling a bit spooked out myself, even if the shadow is just hanging there, floating in the water, not moving at all. I don't know why, but the more I stare at it, the more I feel like it's staring back at me, too; I know that I didn't want to worry myself, but it's getting hard not to panic.
Then, before I can even react, shadow disappears under the surface of the water in an instant. The creature it belongs to dives underwater faster than I can breathe; I didn't even know that something so huge could move so fast. Whatever this thing is, I'm clearly a sitting duck here; it's probably a good time to head back to shore—while I still can, anyways. As soon my paddle breaks the surface of the water, though, something crashes into my boat from underneath, causing it rock back and forth like it's made out of nothing but driftwood.
I can hear wood splintering and boards creaking as the water around my ship bubbles like a cauldron—it's right under me! Using the paddle as a weapon to fend off the creature proves fruitless, too. The instant I swing aimlessly into the water, something wraps around the blade like a rope, and the paddle is ripped clean out of my hands.
My heart is pounding like a jackhammer as tentacles burst up from the depths in a grotesque display; they're uncoordinated, thrashing around like mad, trying to get a grip on anything they can find. One after another, the tentacles find their way onto the edge of my boat; their suction cups latch on tight—so tight that the wood starts to crack and splinter under the pressure.
Through the murky water I can see the beast, a large squid-like monster; its deep, orange skin looks like rubber, and there doesn't seem to be a soul behind its eyes, just a being that's working on primal urges.
Then, with one final tug, the hull of my boat is torn asunder—and with it goes any chance making it out of here in one piece. As I try to keep from going down with my quickly sinking vessel, the squid's appendages inch closer to me. The creature doesn't want my boat—it wants me!
A tentacle then wraps itself around my chest and, like a ragdoll, I'm ripped from freedom and plunged into the ocean's depths. The saltwater stings my eyes as I'm pulled closer and closer to the monstrous squid. It's watching me with one beady eye and, while it may be the lack of air impacting my judgement, I swear I can see some semblance of intelligence in those eyes; it's planning something.
Another tentacle wraps around my legs, holding me still as suction cups pull at my shirt, like they're trying to peel it off of my skin. As the fabric rips from my body, that look in the squid's eye becomes clear; it's a look of excitement. It wraps another tentacle around my mouth next, to stop me from screaming, and I can feel the suckers squishing against my lips. The beast's slimy, almost rubbery skin tastes like the sea; it's so disgusting that I can't help but gag.
The more I'm wrapped up in the squid's appendages, the more it feels like I'm nothing but a toy to this monster; a plaything that the beast is using to satisfy itself. As if to prove my point, the squid's tentacles begin to writhe around my body—leaving red welts as my clothing and skin are stretched and pulled.
I swear, it even feels like the beast is trying to get me out of my pants, too. A tentacle snakes itself around my waist like a belt and tugs down; the force is enough to tear my pants right off of my legs, leaving me in nothing but my soaked boxers. As the wet fabric clings to my groin, and the outline of my limp prick is visible, the squid's eyes then light up once more—it seems to be pleased with what it sees.
Slimy, disgusting tentacles are roaming all over me now, exploring every—and trust me, I mean every—inch of my naked body