The Little God (v1.0)

-BRIEF FORWARD-

 

Tags: Human girl x tentacle monster, consentacles, best friends

 

I feel like I'll end up editing this gradually over time, but the URL won't change. I'll keep version info here I guess.

 

-THE STORY-

 

My best friend, a little god, has lived with me since I was born and he was just a grub. He was only as large as a cat then, and milky white in color while I was a baby of average size and rosy complexion. When I was a toddler, I could pick him up and carry him around under my arm or over my shoulder. Being shaped like a nub covered jelly bean at that stage, he was easy to move and I liked having him around for his company. He enjoyed the same games I did, we were a perfect pair. At night, he slept in my bed with me, cuddled up. I would listen to his heartbeats to fall asleep. So it was for my entire childhood.

 

This is how it is for everyone here, and I never gave it a second thought until one day when I learned that people outside of our haven only had a human population. The instructors told us this to hit home how lucky we all were to have been paired at birth with the little gods, the species that my Friend was a part of. We were all taught, human and little god alike, that though the little gods were rare, their population had grown significantly over the last fifty years, since the start of our colony. But the population had been stagnant in both human and little gods since around the time of my birth. No one would say why this was.

 

When I was five, my Friend underwent a large growth spurt. I could no longer carry him around, as he weighed more than I did. He was three feet long and about that in diameter at his widest point in the middle. His arms, more like tendrils or tentacles, also grew in all the way, allowing him to grab things and pull himself on top of things instead of only slithering, inching, and flopping as he had done for years.

 

He doesn't have a face. He has a front, which is one end of his pillbug-shaped body. There are two nostrils on top of his front and he can shut them whenever he pleases. Mostly, his skin is just very sensitive there. He sees and hears with his skin. His mouth is on his underside, farther down, near his tail. It is massive thing, huge and full of teeth. He's let me play with his tongue before, a large muscle that he can stick out and wave around. His saliva is slimy and hard to wipe off my hand. When his mouth is closed, you would never even know it was there, which is why he can slither and slip over the ground without tasting dirt. He only eats meat, as far as we both know. Our community keeps numerous pigs and chickens and cattle to keep all the little gods fed.

 

His arms can stretch out, or recede back to nubs at his sides, and all together he has a dozen of them. He liked to touch everything, we both did.

 

He continued to grow at the same pace I did, until we were sixteen or seventeen, and were summoned by the elders. It had never happened to me, or to anyone my age, so my Friend and I went humbly. The priests, humans in dark robes with their little god partners painted with black tattoos, looked us over, then nodded to each other. The little gods paired with adults are usually about six feet long and about that girthy at their thickest. My Friend picked the first third of his body up off the ground respectfully. It made him look alert. I was incredibly nervous and afraid, and put a hand on his smooth side.

 

One of the little god priests spoke finally, addressing her words to my Friend. "You are unlike the rest of us. You should not expect to stop growing." She extended  one of her tentacles to touch the front of his body, what would have been his face. I knew she was a female not from the voice in my head, but from her tentacles. Females and males are usually impossible to tell apart until you see their foremost tentacles—females have sockets in the tips.

 

I saw my Friend out of the corner of my eye, saw his surprise as he tensed, though he disguised it. He didn't really know what to say, I think because neither of us knew that there existed the slightest possibility that there could be more. His arms quivered in excitement, he had so many questions for them, but knew he would not be allowed to ask. In truth, I was just as curious, but I was also afraid of any changes that may come. I did not want my perfect Friendship to be changed. What if he got too big to fit in my bed? How would we sleep?

 

In the end, they just assured us both that he would know what to do when the time came. We were both told to trust my friend's instincts, and that accommodations of all kinds would be made for us as necessary. We both sensed that there was something we were not being told, and discussed it that night before we went to sleep.

 

"What do you think will happen?" I asked him softly.

 

"I don't know," he admitted, and I felt him coil his twelve arms around me.

 

---

 

Life continued as normal for a few weeks, until he woke me up one night. "I'm starving," he told me, and took my hand.

 

He pulled me to my feet and made me go with him to the community kitchens. I was sure they would turn us away for being out past curfew or wanting food that wasn't allotted to us, but we were allowed in. The human who stood guard that night didn't seem to understand why he'd been told to let us by, but his little god partner waved at us happily when we went through to the food storage, and she wished my Friend a happy meal. I waved back to her and smiled, but my Friend didn't seem to think he had the time, he was so hungry.

 

"Do you remember?" My  Friend asked as he slithered to the back where the meat is kept. It always surprises me how fast he can move when he is motivated. I have to run to keep up with him sometimes. "They said that they'd make accommodations for us."

 

That night he ate more than I've ever seen him eat. At first he was slow, chewing a chicken and crunching the bones, but after fifteen minutes and three whole chickens, he told me that this was not fast enough. He rolled onto his side and opened his huge mouth for me and asked me nicely to feed him. I tossed fistful after fistful of ground beef to him, and by the end of an hour, he had eaten almost a third of his weight in assorted meats.

 

I sat on the floor rubbing his underside while he lay in a food coma. His tongue lolled out from between his teeth. I poked it to tease him, and to retaliate he slurped at my hand and coated it in his saliva before pulling it back into his mouth. I wiped my hand on him.

 

"You got fat," I told him truthfully, but I was smiling at him.

 

He sighed, one of the few sounds he makes with his body instead of his mind. Sighs, grunts, growls, and purrs are the best he can do, and indeed after a few minutes of letting me rub his stomach, I made him purr. "At least I'm not hungry anymore. Don't stop rubbing."

 

"I'll rub you more when we get back to the room," I told him, and got up after patting his side. He sighed again and used his thick arms to right himself. He didn't slither back this time, he mostly dragged himself, and I walked slowly next to him, through the compound courtyard, back to our building that we share with our age mates, to our shared room. No one was awake, and we entered quietly. I watched my friend try and fail to get onto the bed twice before succeeding. I heard him groan in my head, then he rolled on his side again to bare his belly.

 

"Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself?" I asked. I lay next to him and rubbed his stomach while he wrapped me in his arms.

 

"I'm sure," he said softly. "It was supposed to happen." He fell asleep soon after, and so did I.

 

---

 

Almost every week after our first midnight excursion to the kitchen, there would be a night where he would wake me and tell me he was starving and couldn't sleep, and I would accompany him to the food stores to gorge.

 

He grew, of course. You can't eat as much as he was eating without growing.

 

It frightened me distantly, to see him reach a length of six feet, then seven feet, then eight feet. He had outgrown the bed in no time, and I know that bothered him most of all. The little god was not so little anymore, and he felt isolated because of it. At first people had politely inquired about his health, asking if he was sick, but he always told them he felt perfectly fine. I never saw a little god talk to him about the changes, and privately I though to myself that there was a chance they knew something that the humans didn't, the way that little gods sometimes seem to suddenly know things. If I had not been so conditioned since birth to see them as my allies I might have even been suspicious of them.

 

To me, my Friend complained of other things. His skin itched often from his growing, and his hunger pangs were frustrating (“Like teething,” he told me. “Do you remember when you teethed? You were always uncomfortable.”). I comforted him as best I could, and started sleeping on the floor with him, moving the mattress to the ground and getting rid of the bed frame. I slept on the mattress, he slept half on and half off. Sometimes, I slept on top of him, or partly on top of him, as if he were a giant, warm pillow. He purred when I did that, until I inevitably rolled off of him in my sleep.

 

One night several months after he'd first been given the warning that he would be growing, he woke me up. I got up automatically, thinking he needed to eat, but he grabbed me by the shoulders and waist and gently and pulled me back down. I felt his arms coil reassuringly around my body, and he showed me one of his foremost arms, making me look at the tip. It was dark, but I could see what he clearly wanted me to see. The tip was wet, something gooey was coming out of it.

 

"Are you okay?" I asked.

 

"I'm fine," he told me, sounding casual, but I think he was forcing it a bit. "But this hasn't happened before."

 

"I know," I said. The tips of his foremost tentacle arms are, like the front end of his body, very sensitive, but they are mostly sensitive to touch. Everyone knows that if you rub a little god's front tentacles, you can make him or her relax and purr and that it helps them sleep. I'd done it many times to My Friend in the past. It had been years though, not since we were young enough to be having nightmares frequently and would need to coax one another back to sleep.

 

I reached out and took the tip in my hand. It was flexible, strong, and thick. It tapered off to a blunted tip, and I began to rub it gently.

 

He growled suddenly, and I jumped in surprise. I saw him jump too, just as shocked as me. He sat up, picking as much of his body off the floor as he could, the first two and a half feet of his length. "I'm sorry," he said at once. "That felt really strange."

 

"Good or bad?" I asked, nervous.

 

He contemplated, and I saw him tapping and flicking a few of his other tentacles as he though. "Good," he decided finally, laying his bulk back down with a sigh as he wiggled a bit to get comfortable again. "It felt very good. Do it again, I won't be surprised this time."

 

I did. He seemed to shudder slightly, and I watched him as I ran my hands over the tip of his arm, sliding my hand up and down the slightly loose skin.  "You okay?"

 

"Better than okay," he moaned. I watched the thick liquid drip from the tip. It smelled sweet. My Friend seemed to know what I was already thinking: "You're supposed to taste it? It's... maybe something like that. I'm not certain."

 

Nervously and a tad reluctantly, I followed his suggestion. I had been told to trust his instincts, had I not? I licked the tip and found that it tasted extremely sweet. "Oh wow," I breathed.

 

He growled softly again, a happy sound. His other arms were twitching, and the one around my waist was tightening. He pressed me against his warm body, neither of us really understanding what was going on. He pushed his tip past my lips, deeper into my mouth without asking, and I licked it clean of the nectar-like substance. When it was gone and I had cleaned it,  I suckled gently on him. I would have been lying if I had said it wasn't the most delicious thing I'd ever had, and I wanted more.

 

"I wish you knew what this felt like," he said. His breathing was loud and heavy, the nostrils on the top of his body exhaling hot, steamy air into the room. One of his arms snaked around to cup the back of my head, weaving itself into my hair as he pushed his sensitive organ deeper into my mouth. He demanded softly, "Suck harder."

 

So I sucked harder, enjoying the taste, enjoying his obvious pleasure, enjoying being held. He rubbed it against different parts of my mouth, deciding he disliked my teeth and that he loved my tongue.

 

“I'm supposed to do this,” he said softly to me in an affectionate tone as his huge, fleshy bulk quivered ecstatically. “I'm not sure why. But this is what I'm supposed to do.”

 

I trusted him completely, and suckled and licked until he convulsed, and oozed a huge glob of the nectar into my mouth. I swallowed it after rolling it around and tasting it completely. He delicately pulled his tentacle from my mouth and smoothed my hair with it while he squeezed me tightly and pulled my blanket more over me.

 

“Do you think other pairs do that?” I asked him curiously, meaning other humans and little gods.

 

He doubted it. “I'm pretty sure I can only do that because I'm odd,” he suggested. “And the females can't make the... the goo. Females are supposed to receive it... because...”

 

My Friend trailed off. It was a mystery to him as much as it was to me. I said, “I'm not a little god, I'm sorry,  I don't know... sorry...”

 

He squeezed me tightly. “Don't be. You made me feel amazing.”

 

I fell asleep, he followed.

 

---

 

I felt sluggish the next day. Not sick, just tired. My Friend stroked my back, and I napped in the middle of the day, but he woke me up, a sense of urgency in his motions. He was so excited that he slithered a lap around the mattress on the bed where I lay.

 

“You need to do this again,” he said a bit apologetically as he brandished his leaking foretentacles and rubbed it against my lips. “I realized what it does.”

 

“What does it do?” I asked sleepily as I took one in my mouth and suckled.

 

“I won't give away the surprise,” he said, but I saw how happy and excited he was. His tail was flicking. I knew it would be okay.

 

It continued for several weeks in a new pattern: Once a week, he would wake me at night with hunger pangs. For the following two days, he'd need me to lick and suckle on his foretentacles, until it became something he needed almost every day. I didn't complain, though initially I was concerned that all the nectar might have a lot of calories to it, and that might mean that I would be really over my amount of rationed calories. But nothing bad came of that.

 

---

 

A few weeks later, we were outside. It was a bright, beautiful, sunny day. My Friend said his skin felt sore due to another growth spurt, so we went to shower. We had a large timeslot scheduled just for us, because everyone knew that my little god partner needed lots of time to absorb the moisture, much more so than the other little gods.

 

The shower room was large, composed of two rooms. The first had the brushes, the soaps, the stacks of clean towels and piles of dirty ones. I undressed, my Friend didn't wait. He slithered into the shower room and turned on every faucet after groping around for each, setting the water to a temperature that was almost scalding for me until everything was full of thick steam.

 

He can't see well in showers. Water is constantly hitting him on his sensing tissue, and the sound is cacophonous from all the water droplets. Being in the shower for him is a lot like what being in a loud, dark room where things kept hitting my face would be like for me, except that he likes it a lot.

 

When I was undressed I went to him, but he didn't see me coming and started when I ran my hand over his side. His reaction was to scoot away from me and coil an arm around my middle. I slipped, and fell, and cried out. I wasn't hurt, but I was startled.

 

“I'm sorry!” he said at once, and slid over to me. “I-I don't know why I reacted that way.”

 

His front, what would be his face, pressed against my body. I ran my hands down his sides, or what I could reach of them. “You didn't mean to,” I said as he reached out and pulled me close. He rolled onto his back so I'd sit on his belly.

 

“I'm sorry anyway,” he said, running his tentacles up and down my sides as I  sat atop him. My legs rested one on each side of his body, like he were a horse I was riding.  “I've been on the edge lately.”

 

I felt funny, straddling him, feeling his warm body press up against me between my legs. It was a sensation I was unfamiliar with. So I got off of him and picked up the sponge. “It's fine, you haven't been sleeping well lately. Just don't do it again.” I started to rub him down. He made all sorts of pleased grunts and groans, rolling over like a giant, happy, slug with twelve long arms. I felt excited to touch him, to feel his skin under my hands, the heat of his body and the thrumming of his many beating hearts.

 

When I finished with him, my arms were tired and I lay down on the tile on my stomach. He slithered over me and pinned me, then laughed to himself. “You're heavy,” I complained.

 

He nuzzled me and coiled his arms around my body, easing back and freeing me. They were sudsy and he got me covered in soap. “My turn to wash you,” he said playfully, and I heard something in his voice I had not heard before. It was a playful tone, but it was mixed with what I was used to hearing form him when he knew something I didn't.

 

With each of his arms running all over me—coiling around my thighs, my arms, my waist, passing over my breasts and between my legs—I began to feel odd again. And I liked it. My Friend pushed one of his foretentacles into my mouth, and by then I knew what to do without his needing to ask. I licked and sucked on it, and he made a variety of pleased noises as I hungrily devoured the nectar. My eyes were shut, and he and I were for a time equally sensory deprived. But we didn't need much.

 

My Friend suddenly discharged a glob of the nectar into my mouth and sighed happily. I swallowed it, and as it settled in my stomach it became warm and pleasant, and that warmth seemed to sink lower in me, down to where my legs split... it was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

 

He purred. It used to be a light sound when he was smaller, but now that he is so massive, it is much deeper. The vibrations reached me and I felt... good. I began to pant in the steamy room as the water plastered my hair to my face.

 

“How do you feel?” he asked me, and slowly set me down on the tiled floor, keeping his body between my legs and holding the part of him that was over me up with several sets of his limbs. Water that dripped down his body dripped form his underside onto me.

 

“I feel odd,” I admitted to him, looking up at his lack of a face.

 

“Good odd or bad odd?” he asked.

 

“G-good,” I said. My words came out a stuttered moan as his tentacles suddenly snaked forward and rubbed my breasts, squeezing them and jiggling them. He'd done that only a few times before when they had first started growing in and he was curious about them, and I had done the same thing with his arms when they started growing in years before. His sudden interest in them surprised me, but his interest wasn't half as surprising as how good it felt when he bounced them up and down and coiled his thick arms around them to squeeze playfully.

 

His purring grew louder and he rubbed his face against mine again, then touched it down my body. the last touch was very light,  just above my crotch. “You're wet,” he announced, sounding very pleased... almost smug.

 

“W-well yeah, we're in the shower,” I said.

 

“No, no,” he said, and he ran one of his tentacles between my legs. I gasped suddenly and sharply at the surprisingly beautiful feeling of his soft, warm appendage pressing against me there. But I saw what he meant when I felt the texture of his tentacle slipping over my sensitive parts—I was wet there, and it wasn't just water.

 

“O-oh,” I said. I was a bit worried, I had no idea what was going on.

 

“This is supposed to happen,” My Friend reassured me softly as he purred on. One of his tentacles wrapped around my left thigh and pulled it out to part my legs, another one went back between them and started rubbing me. “I want you to feel as good as I feel when you suck and lick me.”

 

I got tense at the sensation at first. It was foreign and unexpected, but most of all uncontrollable. I tried to fight it off at first because it scared me, but soon I accepted it.

 

And then I melted into pleasure.

 

My Friend's calm, soft voice went on, “The nectar from my foretentacles made you capable of this.” I barely heard him, I was too busy feeling something I had never felt before. It didn't take him very long to play with me before he seemed to zero in on what I was sure was the best spot. I relaxed as he loomed over me and touched me everywhere he could with his spare body parts. He seemed very interested in rubbing and stroking.

 

Soon I felt a pressure inside, and then a pleasure burst forth and consumed me. My vision swirled for a moment and in my state of disorientation, My Friend  wrapped each arm around me until I could barely move.

 

“Yes!” he hissed happily, wiggling and curling his thick body and pressing me to his face to touch me. “Good! That was exactly what was supposed to happen!”

 

When his grip eased up, I hugged him back and was rewarded with a purr.

 

“Before you ask,” he said, “Yes, we will be doing that again. Often.”