“…and anyway, our sex life sucks, we barely spend time together anymore. I think she even might be cheating on me.”
That’s how I finished explaining the problems with my relationship with Kate. My best friend, Mike, sat on the other side of the basement games room, with his feet on the chair, and his butt on the games table. I neglected to point out he was sitting on my lucky dice. He shook his beer can, testing for how much was still left, nodded his head slowly and sagely.
I knew Mike better than that. Whatever he said next, he’d be speaking out of his ass.
“Tentacle Hentai.”
“Tentacle Hentai?”
Now, Mike was the biggest pervert you’d ever meet. He was the biggest pervert I’d ever met, and I work part time in a Dildo store. When it came to Tentacle Hentai, Mike knew what he was talking about. Mike spent thirty bucks a month to airfreight in hentai manga from Japan the day they were released. When Mike went over to Japan, he spent two large just on illustrations of schoolgirls being raped by demons or aliens or whatever they were. With his girlfriend next to him.
She wasn’t impressed.
“Yeah, tentacle hentai. It’s what all the chicks want nowadays.”
“No, it’s what you want nowadays. In fact, it’s what you’ve wanted since you were thirteen years old. I’m not giving drawings of girls being raped to my girlfriend.”
“No, you don’t get it. You know how all the girls in Tentacle Hentai look like they hate it at first?”
“Yes, I know that very well. It’s some weird Japanese Bondage fetish, I gather, and it isn’t arousing. In any way.”
“No, hear me out. After a few pages, they start to like it, right?”
“Yeah, it’s some weird fantasy invented by a male porn producer who spends his days jerking off to hardcore on the train in front of everyone, gets arrested, then writes the fine off as a tax deduction since it was research for work.”
“Whatever dude, you’re the one who wanted help.”
“Fine, I’m listening.”
“See, it’s this deep fetish that’s left over from when humans evolved from Squid.”
“We evolved from apes, not squid.”
“No, way before that, like when we were single celled squid.”
“When we were single celled squid, we didn’t HAVE sex”
“Yeah, well, I say all women have a fetish for tentacles.”
“Fine. Whatever. Mike, you’ve outdone yourself. I’ve heard some ridiculous things out of your mouth, but that is the most fucking ridiculous theory you’ve ever said, and I sat through your two hour plan to take over the world by feeding cockroaches beer until they mutate and grow giant.”
“Don’t forget spraypainting them to make them bullet proof. In bright colours to put people off guard.”
***
It was three days later. Kate was coming around to my place that night, hopefully for some 'special time'. I was drunk. Really drunk. I may have been stoned, but since I always use the same bong, I can’t tell, the way I can by the empty stubbies.
Anyway, I was sure by this time Kate was cheating on me, but I wanted to win her back. I was starting to take in what Mike had said. He did get laid more often than me, after all. The real question was how to turn my member into a tentacle.
Ok, genetic engineering was out. I don’t have the mathematical skill for ordinary engineering. I could try some kind of graft, but I didn’t have anaesthetic, or the skill to stich up nerves, meaning the new member would have neither feeling nor erectile capability. No good at all. Nope, I needed to work with what I had. I needed to adapt my current equipment. In the background, repeats of The Six Million Dollar Man blared. “We Can Rebuild Him.”
I heard a car pull up in my driveway. Shit, no time left. If I didn’t impress her tonight, it would never work. Ok, Improvise. I was always good at improvising.
You know how when you’re drunk, you have really bad ideas, but they sound really good?
I took a swig of straight scotch, to numb the pain, and went for it. The Toaster! Actually, it was the first thing in sight. The switch went on, the heat started to go up. I like my toast light, but this job needed power, so I turned the knob all the way up.
Nothing really hurts like having your Peter burnt, I can say that much from experience. After about a minute, the alcohol delaying the time until I actually felt the pain, I withdrew, as I heard a knock on the door.
“OH FUCK! Fucking fucker! It’s open! Ah, Fuck that hurts!”
Kate helped herself in, only to be confronted by the image of a tall and hairy man, wearing no pants, dancing around swearing, with a horribly, horribly deformed member. My improvisation worked pretty well, actually. A tentacle in hentai is basically a penis with less tapering and no details or hole. The flesh, at least, had burnt to the point it all looked the same.
Kate grabbed some ice and speedily drove me to the hospital. In the emergency room, where I fronted up with no pants, clutching a frozen side of beef to my nether regions, the doctor asked me what my complaint was. There was only one thing to tell him.
“He said “Tentacle Porn” so I stuck my dick in a toaster, and went from there.”