Active and engaged

Held up by information, tentacles sensually sliding on every move on his skin. He has licked one dry, found the next one moist again. He will not fear for lack, for they are pumping full. He will not satiate the hunger, for there is always room.

And with feeding and feeding the drive slows down, while the tentacles draw ever close all around. And inhaling, he says, inhaling, what’s next; inhaling, he knows, inhaling, comes quest.

But the quest is passed and the next one so. And they’ll all keep passing, as the tentacles grow hold. He is active, engaged, steady, and calm, just with this small thirst in the back of his mind. The thirst won’t satiate with the tentacle slime, but a sucker grows there, ready, outside.