Cthulhurotica Read Online Free PDF Page B

air and groping with manifest eagerness for Shirley’s white body, only to dart away as if electrified. Arachnids with far too many legs clung to each other and stalked their prey with antennae longer than their bodies. Their victims, drifting neon jellyfish that circled like moths around the resonator’s tuning fork array. And still more and stranger forms swarmed into the feeding frenzy, too alien to register as more than spectral distortions of the light and momentary pulses of utterly foreign ecstasy, even to his enhanced mind.
    Shirley rose from the chair and sprawled out on the floor. “You see it, Marc? Do you feel it? How could you not want to see this?” She arched her back and threw out her arms, basking in the overwhelming rush of new perception, the otherworldly arousal that the resonator seemed to directly ignite in the human nervous system. His cock stirred and jabbed at his trousers, but he was riddled with fear –not of the eager flying eels, but of Shirley.
    Her naked, ink-scarred skin shimmered with the heat of her arousal and seemed to shed trails that anticipated her movements, flowing backwards in time to meet her as her black fingernails dug into her flesh and drew blood. He started to rise to stop her, but the slightest motion brought wriggling predators groping towards him until he froze.
    Shirley raked her back as if trying to tear off her own skin. The tattoos on her back –- eyes, feathers, scales, and more eyes – ran and reformed as she dragged a boiling black cloud out of herself and set it adrift overhead.
    She beckoned for him to come and join her, but he retreated behind the control console. His hand hovered over the kill switch.
    She writhed on the floor as if embracing a phantom. “It’s not enough. Open it wider…”
    He could not bear to look up from the console. It was too much, the visions and the realization that this was not a hallucination, but the truth, compared to which normal eyesight was a blessed lie.
    She would never be satisfied. She was driven to push too far. If there was any hope of snapping her out of it, of getting her back, it would come from giving her more than she could handle.
    He turned the oscillation cycle to 37,000, the level at which the journal’s crabbed, careful notes became looping gibberish and spiky mandalas, eclipsed by maroon stains.
    The livid pink light deepened to an abyssal violet. Marc could barely see Shirley through the shadow that seemed to pin her to the floor. He rose and rushed to reach out to her, but then recoiled in shock.
    Up close, it was not a shadow, but something almost too strange for his eyes to process it. It seemed to hover astride her back like a rider on a horse, its trailing, nebulous limbs penetrating her skull and spine and lazily tugging its limbs to elicit tiny mewling sighs of pleasure.
    “So,” she moaned, “you see it too?”
    It was like a massive armored octopus, a billowing, vaporous body enfolded in an exoskeleton that glowed a sullen, sordid red, like molten iron underwater. Its countless branching tentacles drifted on subatomic winds like flaccid hagfish, but dozens of them were fused with Shirley’s spine, jacked into her chakras like astral spinal taps.
    “Do you really want to know why I am the way I am, Marc? Well, now you know.” She twisted a translucent cord and kissed it, making it shiver. “I was never molested or abused or any of that, but I always had what Mom called a devil on my shoulder. Something in me that fed off danger and sex…”
    She twisted around under the floating incubus and took hold of two thick spinal taps and lifted herself off the floor to cling to it. Seeming to become more tangible from arousal alone, the phantom parasite enfolded her in an embrace of spiny, segmented arms, but she seized the parasitic cords connecting it to her like a leash, and brought the thing to heel.
    Her legs spread wide to straddle its chitinous thorax, she gently stroked the ethereal