When this story popped up in my newfeed you know I had to learn all that I could about Inky the Octopus and his Great Escape. Is it any wonder that a story went from seedling to full bloom as I read about him? Ya’ll know me and know my interest in all things eight-legged …. and if you want to know more background, feel free to open a new window and google about Inky. He lived in an aquarium in New Zealand, but now he’s free to wander the worlds oceans….
They always watched. Bipeds, fingers tapping on the glass, seeking his attention. Young ones, old ones, ones in what he figured was their prime. The males would often be crude, as bipeds were wont to be, pressing their reproductive glands against the window, rubbing along the outside of the hard walls that penned him in.
He ignored them.
The females were another thing entirely. He could smell them sometimes, over the obnoxiously floral smells that they coated their natural scent with. Some didn’t hide their colors, his personal favorites. He could nearly taste them, the sweetness of the females. He missed having one to play with, to entwine and mate with. Another of his kind shared the cage, but he was old, and not succulent and undesirable as a mating partner. The bipeds who came into the cell to clean were usually male, but the females? Those he would swim up to investigate. They’d smile and laugh around their strange, air-filled pods. He learned to not to tug on the tubing, a mistake he’d made only once. He’d lofted her to the surface; her skin was not accessible for merging, encased as it was in some disgusting black film. It seemed she understood, patting his arm as he’d hauled her to the ladder. Upset, she’d forgotten to close the hatch on the cell. That was the night he had made his first escape. The landing upon the hard surface of the floor had stunned him– he hadn’t realized that air had no buoyancy — but when he’d roused, pleased to find himself intact, he had begun to explore his surroundings. He smelled the sea! It was present in the air around him, but there was a strong scent-cone of it nearby. Creeping across the cold hard floor was so vastly different from scooting along the ocean floor, even from that within his prison cell. It was smoother than sand, but without the weightlessness that water gave him his progress was slow. Halfway to the scent, tantalizingly close, he felt the air around him swirl. The scent was tossed about, confusing him. Noises, shockingly loud, things grabbing him. Befuddled, he blinked. When he was plopped into the cell, he saw the bipeds standing on the platform, armatures waving towards one another, communicating, he supposed. There was no grace, and he didn’t speak their language, but he understood that they were talking about him. He dove to the bottom of the tank, slipped into the small cave that was his. He had much to think about.
It was months before he figured out that he could reach the handle of the upper door, could wrap his tentacle around the cold slick metal of the rail and slide to the floor. He crept across the floor, using his arms in ways he’d never tried before. He could hear noises that began to be identifiers of his captors approaching. Though he got back to his cage before they discovered him missing, there were several more times when he was, indeed, caught. Understanding that he needed to learn more about the world outside his cell, he began swimming closer to the glass, angling his eyes so that he could observe the bipeds in their movements, and learn.
3. Kate lifted the hatchway that covered the walkway inside the largest of the aquarium tanks. Here were the larger sea creatures, most notably, Inky, their large purple octopus. There was also Gerald, who they had originally thought was a Geraldine, meant to be a companion for Inky. But the two had little to do with one another, and it was Kate who discovered that both of the eight legged wonders were male. A hammerhead shark swam just at the edge of the walkway, waiting, she knew, for the bucket of chum she would be dumping in for their dinner. A large variety of foods were lofted into the tank, reaching the various denizens of the deep. She reached up to the wall for the second bucket. Upon turning back to the tank, she noted one long purple tentacle sliding towards her ankle.
“Cut that out Inky,” she said with a smile in her voice. Tossing the contents into the tank, she lifted the tentacle, pushing it back into the water. Another tentacle slipped around her ankle.
“I don’t have time to swim with you now, Inky,” she admonished, pulling her leg away. It was funny how he’d suddenly taken to ‘visiting’ when it was her turn to feed the tank. His large head turned, just below the water, the large, deep blue eye staring at her. She blew him a kiss, and climbed back up the ladder and out of the tank.
“Go, eat,” she said, waving her hands in a shooing gesture. With a last look, she shut the lid, lest the slippery creature attempt yet another escape.
The female biped interested him. She made him feel things that he’d never experienced before–the desire to mate, the seeking of attention. The skin that covered her was black and slippery and tasteless. There was no aroma of her other than when her hand had taken his for that moment. His penis had begun to slip out of its sheath, but she’d released him and left. The erection slid away, his cock became small, even as his frustration grew. He wanted out of this cell! He knew now, that in the dark-time NO bipeds were about. The dark was no more deep than in the ocean. There were points of light scattered here and there even when the rooms were empty, though he could not ascertain their purpose. He positioned himself where he could watch the lights dim, watch the bipeds moving about, until the last of them had gone. Quick as a flash he squirted up to the surface, pulling himself to the platform. In seconds he’d squeezed through the tiny opening, sliding down the silver railing to the floor. The sea called to him, a call he would not ignore any more. Slipping and flopping across the inclined floor, he reached the drainpipe, and began the arduous process of slipping the length of himself through the narrow diameter. Before the sun rose and heated the duct, he reached the end, tentacles grasping the very edge of the piping, before taking the leap of faith and letting go.
He fell into the welcoming arms of the ocean like the most practiced Olympic divers, leaving behind the smallest of splashes.
They stood staring at the wet marks around the pipe.
“That is most definitely tentacle slime inside,” said Michael. “He went down the fucking pipe.”
“So…he’s…gone?” asked one of the other staffers, echoing everyone’s thoughts, as there were nods and frowns around the circle.
“Gone right back into the bloody bay,” he replied, staring at the pipe. “One hundred sixty four fucking meters he went, the crazy bastard. Then sploosh, right into the fucking sea.”
The group turned as one, staring over the railing where the curve of green land hugged the deep blue of Hawke’s Bay. The sky gleamed pure blue and bright, the white curling waves stretched along the meeting of sea and land to splash over onto the sand and rocks that lined the shore.
“Gone,” Kate said under her breath. Part of her was sad, sad for the people who would not be able to ever see his glorious purple skin, the nearly teal blue of his suction cups. He was a beautiful octopus, and had been so interactive with the patrons of late, not to mention her own interactions with him. She’d miss him curling his tentacles around her ankles at feeding time. But she was also glad that he would be back in his own place, free to explore and live in the ocean that was his home. If only he doesn’t get eaten before he finds a nice cave to live in, she mused. Sighing, the group began to drift apart, ready to begin prepping the exhibits for the day.
6. Being out in the bay was the best, Inky thought. The freedom of movement, the taste of the cold and briny ocean, the sweet and succulent fish he could capture and eat…all spelled joy to him. He missed the female biped, but that was the only part of his former captivity that he did.
7. Being out on the bay was the best, Kate thought. The last month had been hard at work, between the escape of the wily Inky, a group of Korean tourists who wanted to swim with the sharks, and the busload of first graders who needed to be reminded continuously to not put their hands into the tanks, stop licking the tanks, no banging on the tanks to scare the fishies…she was more than a little ready to have some sun and water and fun. Sitting on her surfboard, she idly kicked her feet, reveling in the silky feel of the salt water, the sun beaming on her head and shoulders. The boys had gone ahead, catching that big wave, riding it all the way into the shallows. She’d misstimed the rise, flattened on the backside of the curl, and missed it. Still, it gave her this quiet time, alone with the sun and the~~
Her board flipped. In the water unexpectedly, she was confused about up and down. A small wave broke over her as she attempted to suck in air, adding to her befuddlement. She felt the painfully hard bump against her thigh, screamed, came up with a mouthful of salty water. Kicking to the surface, she spat out the brine, coughing violently. She looked for her surf board, seeking its relative safety. Spying it nearly 9 meters away, she began to swim towards it. It was only by sheer luck that she caught the flash of a fin before she reached it, not even daring to tread water as the enormous shark ravaged her favorite board. Too much motion would call the shark in her direction. Trying to remember everything she’d learned at the Aquarium, she kept still as possible, and began to slip out of her bikini. Sharks have a good eye for seeing contrast, and her brilliant red bikini stood in sharp contrast to her pale skin. She’d rather wind up on the beach naked than clothed in her suit inside a sharks belly. Putting her face in the water, she watched the giant form turn, then charge again for her board. Giving thanks to all the powers that be that she hadn’t made it there, she watched the giant beast attack the remaining pieces of her shattered board. Gods, if she’d been laying on it she would have become shark fodder for certain. Hopefully the creature would realize there was no food here, and swim away. They had short attention spans for non-food. She watched the finned beast swim away, its muscles rippling with power. Having seen this feint-and-parry attack before, she remained motionless. Again the shark turned, but rather than attacking, it nosed the largest piece of board, before swimming towards Kate. She barely moved, holding her breath, fingers, toes, all muscles frozen. The shark swam past her, it’s sandpaper like skin just touching her heel. It flipped, swam past her again, then dove, swimming fast away into the depths.
“Shit. Sweet fucking Geezuz. Holy fuck on a stick. Fuckity Fuck Fuck,” she whimpered, shivering. The water, the shock, all had her a quivery mess.
“Enough,” she said it out loud for emphasis. “Enough. You’re in a fine fix, here girl. Let’s start moving toward shore and keep an eye out for the fucking fish.”
Suiting action to words, she began to slowly stroke towards the distant shoreline.
8. He had no knowledge of the bipeds “day” and “night” sequences. Flitting about freely on the ocean floor, he reacquainted himself with the various life-forms that called these waters home. There were several encounters with sharks, and the notable showdown with an eel when he’d tried to get into that one’s cave. Wisely, he’d left the eel behind, and looked for shelter elsewhere. Occasionally he would skim the surface of the water, curious to see if the bipeds were out and about. The occasional rumble of large ships would quiver through the water, sending fish and other creatures out of its noisy path.
This day, he noted, was moving towards the darkening time that had presaged his escape several months ago. Swimming just below the surface, he could see the wavy hues of sunset. Preparing to dive, he caught the wisp of taste-scent that was familiar. It stirred memories in him, of laughter and food and a want*need that had gone unanswered for far too long.
He followed the trail of back to its source, found her floating there. His tentacles wrapped around her, lifting her as he recalled the bipeds couldn’t be under the water like he could. There was a shudder, a shake, a noise.
9. She coughed, heaving water from her throat. She’d given up. All the swimming in the world couldn’t lesson the relentless tug of the flow of the ocean around and out of the bay. If her surfboard survived to make it to the shore, her friends would assume she’d been consumed. Then something wrapped around her, lifting her head, supporting her. Too tired to fight. Too tired to wonder. She coughed, her lungs burning as she drew in breath. What? Wha..she spied the purple tentacle around her wrist. But the sky burned with purple and pink. There was no way..a large and bulbous head with a sky-blue eye moved in front of her.
“Inky? INKY?!” she croaked, coughing up more water. The tip of one tentacle rose from the water, touching her face. It was cold and rubbery and weird but she felt such love and relief from the beast. She felt herself moving through the water, tentacles wrapped around her. He was towing her to shore…as unbelievable and improbable as it seemed.
10. He could feel her heart rate begin to slow to what was normal for a biped. He felt other things too, including the stirrings of his own organs. This biped female attracted him. He felt his penis begin to lengthen and emerge. His tentacles began to dance around her body, touching the round orbs with their strangely pointed tips, encircled them and made them snug. His penis began to probe along her body. Never before had he seen her shell-less. He found the scent of her intoxicating.
11. Something pressed between her legs, moved along her slit. She knew octopi were curious, using their tentacles to discover their surroundings. She didn’t panic when it probed along her thigh, nor even along the slit of her pussy. She did attempt to push it away when it slid further, and found the opening.
“No, Inky,” she said aloud, pushing the tentacle away. It persisted, and she fluttered her legs in the water. This did not discourage it in the least. Despite pushing and wiggling, the questing tip pressed harder against her opening. She could feel it begin to enter her. This wasn’t happening…attacked by a Great White Shark and fucked by an octopus in the same day? She tried to kick away, tried to swim, but he held her, the tentacles around her breasts tightening in a way that was both frightening and erotic. Her nipples felt on the verge of exploding, as her pussy began to moisten as it was filled. She’d never felt so filled…her boyfriend had a small penis; this thing was pushing deeper than she’d ever felt before, and stretching her wide. Some tentacle tip rubbed against her clitoris and she arched, shocked to be orgasming this way. She felt liquid, warm and thick, jelling inside of her. Her belly felt full, like she had to pee a lot in some ways. The pressure made her come again, her body arching in the water. A tentacle caught up her hair, holding her in this back-bowed position as the tentacle in her cunt moved and wiggled. So full! So close to painful and yet not. When another tentacle pressed curiously against her anus, she shook her head faintly, moaning. She couldn’t stop it, any more than she could stop the slow but steady forward motion in the water. It was fully dark now, the stars brilliant in the velvet-black sky. Her anus protested the intrusion, her pussy convulsed. It seemed to happen faster, harder, these orgasms. Her body trembled, then shook violently as she came. The thrusting into her stretched holes became rougher, more excited as her body reacted. She screamed as the next orgasm wracked her, her body locking into the rigor of the explosion, before softening and relaxing. She was continually pummelled as she floated on the edge of consciousness, only aware of the unceasing pleasure/pain, the flow of her own juices, and the incredible amount of stretching her pussy and ass were achieving. She felt herself on the verge of something big, something huge, her every molecule holding its breath. Then her body exploded and she fell into the stars.
12. The sun broke the edge of the night along the long line of shore. Hot rays kissed the ocean, danced on the waves before crawling up the shore. She felt heat on her foot, climbing up her legs. Blinking salt-crusted eyes open, she half-rose. On the beach. Crash of surf. Sunrise. Sand in unpleasant places. Need to pee. Taking stock of herself, and her place, that last awareness came quickly. More slowly that she would have liked, she rolled to her knees, pressed herself upward. Dizzy, very dizzy. Needed water, needed to pee. She moved up the beach, towards the treeline. No pee on the beach, her mind reminded her. Uncaring that she was naked as a jaybird, coated in sand, she saw the first human habitation ahead. The aquarium. Of course. She had no key, but the watchman would be on shift. Stumbling across the rocks, to the road, she crossed, her body waking to the aches and pains. Though it felt like she was pounding on the door, she made nary a sound. Buzzer. There was a buzzer. She might pee on the spot if…through the shaded glass she saw movement.
“Ye…Oh Gods! You’re alive!”
“Let me help you…”
She felt herself falling, then strong arms lifted her, carrying her inside.
“I need to pee. And to drink.”
She was carried to the bathroom, and when she left the stall, a men’s shirt lay thoughtfully across one of the sinks. She splashed water on her face, rinsing off sand and salt. Up in the staff area were showers, her next destination. She would shower, hydrate, rest. And maybe in a week, maybe two, she’d head out to the bay on her surf board.
13. He found a lair, not too deep, not to far. And waited.