I had a tough childhood. We were raised by a single mother who had to do two jobs to keep a roof over our heads, and my princessy older sister seemed to have a mission in life to make my life hell. I can’t count the number of times my mum came home to discover my sister’s latest act of sabotage, which inevitably I got the blame for.

“Stuart, why can’t you be a good child like Cheryl, my little angel,” was her frequent refrain.

The other kids at school saw me being bullied by my she-devil sister and thought it would be fun to pick on me too. So I ended up being a loner, with no friends of my own age. Spending a lot of time on my own meant I did a lot of reading, and kept up with my schoolwork. Unless Cheryl ‘accidentally’ spilt custard on it.

When my sister reached twelve, she had to move to the local Academy school where she’d stay until sixteen, or if she was academically inclined, to eighteen to try for qualifications sufficient to get her into university. That gave me two years free from her bullying at school, although the other kids showed they hadn’t forgotten.

At twelve, I too had to move to the Academy school, but my sister’s bullying at school didn’t resume because it wasn’t cool for someone of her age to be seen with someone of my age. Besides, at fourteen, Cheryl had discovered boys. And with her newly-sprouted nubile figure, she knew just how to manipulate them.

By the time I reached fourteen, my voice had broken and I was coming towards the end of my growth spurt. I was now taller and stronger than Cheryl so outright physical bullying was no longer an option. So now her only option was surreptitious sabotage, which was a modest improvement.

If there were circles of Hell, then our annual week’s summer holiday in a seaside caravan belonging to a neighbour was surely one of the inner circles. Until I was fourteen, I had to spend the whole week in close proximity to Mum and Cheryl. Fortunately, with Mum there all the time, Cheryl had to be subtle about her sabotage. Mum and Cheryl got the beds, I had to make do with a sleeping bag on the floor, which gave Cheryl ample opportunity to ‘accidentally’ kick me awake if she went to the loo during the night.

When I was fourteen, our week in the caravan was affected by stormy weather. My mum and sister went each day to the shelter of the shops and arcades of the nearest town. My mum decided I was old enough to take care of myself, so I’d make some sandwiches and a flask of tea, pack my waterproof in case, and go beachcombing for the day. I wasn’t a serious beachcomber, but it got me away from my she-devil of a sister, and I found enough pretty seashells and things to satisfy any familial doubts.

Tuesday night was particularly violent, with the wind mercilessly buffeting the caravan and the rain sounding like machine-gun bullets as it strafed the roof and windows. But, come the morning, the wind had dropped and the sun was shining. Mum and the she-devil decided on town again, leaving me the solitude of my beachcombiing.

Being in the middle of nowhere meant I had no beachcombing competition for an hour or so. Although further rain was forecast, the sun was hot as though trying to make up for lost time. I even took my shirt off to get some sun on my pasty skin.

My first find of the day was one of those ubiquitous yellow plastic ducks that were sailing around the world, the first one I’d ever encountered. My second find was further jetsam, a Lego figurine. I would have to look it up to check whether it was one of the rare ones.

Just as the serious beachcombers, some armed with metal detectors, started to turn up at the far end of the beach from the adjacent public car park, I made my third find. I nearly missed it, but I caught a glimpse of something glinting in the sand. I carefully brushed away the sand to expose what looked to be a child’s metal badge, showing an octopus on a sea-blue background. I picked it up and held it against my chest to see how it would look if I wore it. I felt a sharp prick, which shocked me because I hadn’t felt anything sharp on the reverse, then the badge disappeared. Or at least, it partially disappeared. I could still see its ghostly image where it was now secured to my chest.

I suddenly felt hot and dizzy, and I dropped to my knees so I wouldn’t fall over. I put out my hands to steady myself and that’s when the tentacles sprouted. Eight in all, just like an octopus, four emanating from each shoulder. My reaction was abject horror, and I wished they weren’t there. They obligingly disappeared. Then I wished them back and they reappeared.

I wished the tentacles away again then found a secluded spot amongst rocks that had fallen from the cliff. There was a sign warning of the danger of falling rocks so most people gave the area a wide berth.

I wished my tentacles back. Then I tried whirling them around. One of them bounced off a rock and I felt pain. Somehow the tentacles became insubstantial, so I could whirl them around but they’d pass through any rocks. Further experimentation showed I could will them to be visible and substantial or insubstantial, or invisible and substantial or insubstantial. I could even make each tentacle have both visible and invisible (except to me) lengths, and substantial and insubstantial lengths. And they were very powerful too, especially after I learned how to deploy the suckers their undersides were covered with.

All the concentration required to manipulate the tentacles exhausted me, so I willed the tentacles away and snuck away from forbidden area under the cliffs back onto the safe part of the beach. There I had my sandwiches and tea and took a quick nap.

I woke up because I was cold. The sun was obscured by thick clouds and rain was on the way. I put my shirt back on and covered up with my waterproof. Rain didn’t bother me and it was still too early to return to the caravan so I wandered along the shore towards the car park. All the serious beachcombers had gone, the golden hour each side of low tide having long passed. I saw a few attractive shells but I didn’t pick them up since I was satisfied with my plastic duck and Lego figurine.

As I was progressed towards the car park, first there were a few warning spots of rain, then the heavens opened dramatically and it poured down so heavily that visibility was reduced to a few feet. I didn’t care. If anything it improved things because now I couldn’t see the other people on the beach, if indeed there were any still on the beach.

I gradually became aware of someone crying. It wasn’t loud, but then torrential rain on soft sand isn’t loud either. I changed direction and headed towards the crying. First the car park loomed into view, then I found the source of the crying, an attractive young woman standing by a car, her sopping wet clothes clinging to her quite nicely.

When she first noticed me looming out of the rain, the woman stepped back on full alert. Then she saw I was only a teenager and relaxed somewhat.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“I’ve locked my keys in the car and I can’t find anything to break a window.”

A few yards away, under the cliffs, she could have found any number of rocks that might have done the job. I decided not to mention that. Instead I peered into the car. It was an older car, similar to one my neighbours had. The keys were in the ignition. There weren’t manual buttons to pull up to disengage the door lock, there were electronic buttons, and for those to operate from the inside, the ignition would have to be turned on. I tried the door handle anyway, just in case, but unfortunately the car door actually was locked.

“I can do this for you, but I’m a magician and magicians always protect their magic so I can’t let you see me do it,” I said.

“For real?” asked the bedraggled woman.

“If you move ten feet away and turn around, that should be sufficient.” Ten feet was about the limit of visibility in the rain.

The woman took a few moments to decide, then a ‘What the hell’ expression crossed her face and she complied.

When she had turned away, I extruded an invisible insubstantial tentacle and fed it through the window, then turned the tip substantial. I tried to turn on the ignition but I couldn’t grasp the key properly, even when using a sucker. I checked the woman was still looking away then extruded another invisible insubstantial tentacle into the car. I made its tip substantial too, and using both tentacles I managed to grasp the key firmly enough to turn the ignition to the first position and activate the car’s electronics. From there it was simple to press the button to deactivate the door lock. I made both tentacles fully insubstantial then wished them away. I tried the door handle and it opened.

I checked the woman again and found she was still looking away.

“It’s done, ma’am,” I announced.

The woman turned back and found me holding the door slightly ajar. “How the hell did you do that?”

“Sorry, magicians’ code.”

The woman came over and hugged me tightly, giving me a totally unexpected but enjoyable kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” she gushed. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’m just glad I was able to help,” I said. And even gladder to feel her firm breasts pressed against me through her sopping wet t-shirt.

She dug a wallet out of her sopping shorts and handed me a tenner. “I would say to buy yourself a drink but you’re too young, aren’t you!”

“‘Fraid so.”

“Can I give you a lift anywhere?”

“No, ma’am, I’m staying in a caravan at the top of the cliffs. As you can see, I came prepared,” I said, indicating my waterproof.

The woman got in her car and started the engine, giving it a once over to make sure I hadn’t done anything nefarious while she was looking the other way. Then she took off her sopping wet t-shirt, so she was only wearing a bra up top. Her breasts looked as good as they had felt.

The woman caught me staring and gave me a wink and a wave before pulling out of the car park.

It was too early for me to return to the caravan because Mum and my she-devil sister might be back, and walking in the torrential rain was a more attractive option than spending extra time with the she-devil. The rain eased off and by the time I reached the headland about a mile past the car park, the sun came out and dried off my waterproof for me.

I reversed course and reluctantly made my way back to the caravan. Mum and my she-devil sister were already back by the time I reached it.

“Where have you been all this time?” Mum demanded.

“On the beach. I was looking for anything exciting that might have washed up in last night’s storm.”

“Even in the pouring rain?”

“I had my waterproof. It wasn’t a problem.”

“And what great treasures did you find?” asked the she-devil sarcastically.

I felt I had to show them something. The octopus brooch was definitely off limits and I didn’t want to mention the Lego figurine either until I’d checked whether it was valuable. Instead I showed them the yellow plastic duck.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” said the she-devil.

“Cheryl, mind your language,” chastised Mum.

Mummy’s little angel getting ticked off for bad language? That was a novelty.

“This little fellow has been sailing around the world since 1992, when it fell off a container ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean,” I responded.

“I call bullshit,” scoffed Cheryl.

“Cheryl, I don’t know what’s got into you,” said Mum.

Cheryl glared menacingly at me but didn’t attempt any kind of retribution that evening, then we all went to bed. Sure enough, in the middle of the night, Cheryl ‘accidentally’ kicked me on her way to the loo. Almost without thinking, I extruded an invisible insubstantial tentacle with a substantial tip. All I wanted to do was poke her or something but the tentacle had other ideas. The end became became substantial, wrapped itself around one of Cheryl’s calves and tugged. Cheryl faceplanted onto the thin carpet on the caravan floor.

“Mu-u-um,” Cheryl screamed, as she picked herself up off the floor. “Stuart just attacked me.”

Despite the two admonishments Mum had administered earlier that evening, Mum came racing out of her bedroom to protect her little angel.

“What did you do, Stuart?” she demanded.

With everything but my head still fully enveloped within my sleeping bag, I was able to affect a picture of innocence.

“I didn’t do anything, Mum,” I asserted. “I felt a kick then Cheryl went flying. She must have tripped.”

“You’re lying, you little bastard. You did something, I know it,” stormed Cheryl.

“Language, Cheryl. Honestly, I don’t know what’s got into you today,” said Mum.

Mum turned her attention back to me. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make Cheryl fall over?” she asked.

Sensing an opportunity, I extruded an invisible insubstantial tentacle, then when it was within range I turned the tip substantial and slapped the back of Cheryl’s head.

“No, Mum. I was lying here fast asleep when Cheryl kicked me,” I said.

“Mu-u-um,” whined Cheryl. “Stuart just hit me.”

“Nonsense,” said Mum. “I’ve been watching Stuart the whole time and he hasn’t moved.”

I slapped the back of Cheryl’s head a second time.

“Mu-u-um, make Stuart stop hitting me.”

“Cheryl, stop your lies and go back to bed this instant,” said Mum.

Cheryl meekly obeyed. The she-devil hadn’t even needed to use the loo, she was just using that as an excuse to kick me.

The rest of the night was peaceful.

The weather forecast for Thursday was hot and sunny, with storms moving in overnight. I went beachcombing again. Mum and the she-devil decided not to trust the weather forecast and went into town again. I couldn’t imagine what they found to do all day.

All the locals seemed to have decided that would be a good day to visit the beach and for them it was. The weather forecasters were spot on for a change and the cove looked as pretty as a picture, with the yellow sun in the blue sky, the blue sea, and the yellowish sandstone cliffs. I was able to get some beachcombing in before the horde arrived from the car park, but I didn’t find anything I deemed worthy of collection.

My secondary objective was to find some privacy to practise manipulating my tentacles some more but there was none to be found. Some people were trying for Darwin Award nominations by letting their kids play amongst the rocks that had fallen off the cliff, despite multiple signs warning of the danger of falling rocks.

My tertiary objective was to see whether the woman who had locked herself out of her car was back, and whether she’d thank me again. I made two visits to the car park, attracting suspicious looks from people thinking I was out to steal stuff as I walked around looking for the woman’s car. Sadly, she wasn’t there.

Frustrated, I set off back to the caravan midway through the afternoon, hoping to do some reading while Mum and the she-devil were still in town. That didn’t work out so well. Mum and the she-devil were already back. While Mum was pottering about doing Mumly things, the she-devil had grabbed the bench seat and was laid out on it as though it was a sofa. And the biggest surprise, the she-devil had a book in her hand and was reading it without her lips moving. But it was an innocuous a teen romance, advertised as suitable for 14-16 year olds in order to attract 10-12 year old readers.

The she-devil had a bed she could lie on so, by hogging the bench seat, she left me only an uncomfortable rickety chair or the floor. I chose the floor across from the bench seat and got out the cheesy space opera I was reading.

I belatedly realised the she-devil was dangling a foot towards the floor, and that meant one of the leg holes of her shorts was gaping open and I could see up it, including a clear profile of her vulva through her panties.

I regarded the she-devil as being like an apple inhabited by a maggot, good to look at on the outside, rotten to the core on the inside. That latter part had effectively killed the prospect of any sexual thoughts I might have had about her body, but now, with my ability to protect myself using my tentacles, I could take a different view. And a very nice view it was too. I had to use my space opera book to hide my erection.

Almost without thinking, I extruded an invisible insubstantial tentacle and navigated it across the room and up Cheryl’s gaping leg hole. I knew roughly what a vulva consisted of from Human Relationships lessons at school, so once my tentacle had penetrated the thin fabric of Cheryl’s panties, I turned the tip substantial and investigated her topography using featherlight touches. Occasionally Cheryl must have felt me, because I saw her leg muscles twitch, but eventually I had mapped out the outer and inner labia and it was time to go for gold.

My tentacle entered Cheryl’s hot vagina and progressed towards her cervix, which it eventually hit. Suddenly I lost control of my tentacle, and the whole of the length buried in Cheryl’s vagina swelled to fit and became substantial. Cheryl definitely noticed that and sat up with a surprised, “Eep!”

“Is anything wrong, dear,” called out Mum, currently preparing our dinner in the tiny kitchen area.

My heart froze mid-beat.

“No Mum, just a touch of wind.”

Cheryl turned to stare at me. She had to know I was doing something but the look on her face was puzzled rather than aggrieved.

My tentacle decided to pull out part way, making Cheryl’s panties and shorts bulge. Then it thrust itself back in.

My tentacle transmitted really good feelings back to me, including the sensations of my sister’s hot vagina. When it pulled out and pushed in again I realised it was fucking my sister. The strokes got shallower and faster until it thrust back in all the way and stopped. It swelled even more, and I felt it throbbing as it pumped fluid into my sister. I tried to wish it away, make it insubstantial and pull it out but it was immoveable. I’d heard of dogs knotting when they mated and this plugging seemed to be the tentacular equivalent. And all the time Cheryl kept staring at me, her breath coming in short pants and her face flushed.

After several long moments, the tentacle deflated and I was able to wish it away. There was just time for me to see a wet spot appear on the front of Cheryl’s panties before, red-faced and breathless, she made a dash for the loo.

“Where did that girl go?” demanded Mum, having glimpsed Cheryl making a quick exit.

“I think she went to the loo,” I said, wondering how much trouble I was in.

“It’s good to see the two of you not fighting for a change,” she opined.

Cheryl was gone for a while, but when she re-emerged she looked like her normal, composed self. She went straight to her tiny cabin and, judging by the lack of panty lines under her shorts, a clean pair of panties was on the cards.

All through dinner I expected Cheryl to speak out and accuse me of something, but surprisingly she kept mum. The predicted storm arrived late evening, meaning further buffeting and machine-gunning for the caravan throughout the night but, for once, I was spared being ‘accidentally’ kicked awake in the middle of the night.

The next morning, the miserable weather persisted, although the wind had died down. I went beachcombing again while Mum and Cheryl went into town again. We were due to travel home again the next day and I knew Mum wanted to buy small gifts for our neighbours.

Despite the stormy weather overnight, and the absence of any competition because of the rain, I didn’t find anything worthy of collection. I took the opportunity to mull over the previous evening’s events.

I was pretty sure octopuses didn’t breed via their tentacles, although I’d have to double-check that, so what exactly had happened? And did Cheryl have an orgasm? She seemed to enjoy the experience but my tentacle didn’t feel any muscular pulses from her vagina. Could anything result from the mating? Surely octopuses and humans were incompatible species. And yet here I was, sprouting tentacles.