The Felching of the Oct’pus
A fun-sized epic in antiheroic couplets, dedicated to:
The two rapscallions who challenged me to write it
Cephalopod fetishists everywhere
and a narrow subset of Japanese businessmen.
Now then most wat'ry and slime-crusted muse Invoking the muse
Awaken from your dark aquatic snooze;
You who have filled the poets' heads with things
Of subm'rine significance, tales of kings:
like great Poseidon, god of waves and storm,
all-encomp'sing Pontus, from Gaia born,
Old Man of the Sea, primal Proteus,
who wrestled heroic Menelaus.
The gods may be gone, the naiads dried up
But this tale is nectar for Zeus's cup!
(Though others might say that this bit of lore
is better fitted for the cuspidor.
Inspire me sweet muse, nevertheless
that this song may from pen and lips egress.)
Many creatures inhabit the great sea Setting the scene
From noble shark to humble anem'ne.
But this is the epic of the oct'pus,
her lover, trumpetfish maculatus
and the unlikely affair that tran'spired
but 'till now has ne'er been set to lyre.
Madame Oct'pus was weeping in the sea The trumpetfish's
when the trumpetfish came swimming merr'ly. question
"O, what causes thy sorrow dear lady"
cried trumpetfish "what could be so weighty
to make one lovely and long-armed as you
cry tears of delightful and viscous goo?
Have you not a love, to please you with woo?
No! 'tis impossible methinks, that one
fairer than any beast of sea or sun
could be without a fleet of admi'rers
eager to fill her oceanic desires.
So tell me, lovely and many-armed maid
how can I make your darkling sorrows fade?"
Up Madame Oct'pus raised her briny eyes The cause of Madame
("so fine," thought he, "with neither guile nor guise!") Oct'pus's sorrows
and spoke the following words through her tears: revealed
"Kind maculatus, your symp'thies are sweet
Though empty, to a ceph'lopod in heat!
A lady has needs, as I think you know
but alack! Nature brings me naught but woe!
For should I find a beloved eight-armed mate
he may please, but shall leave me impregnate!
Caring for oct'pus eggs is a trial
that can only end in a fate most vile.
For female oct'pi typically die
aft' they have severed the maternal tie.
O trumpetfish what a price to be paid
for only wanting love—and to get laid!"
Now Madame's monologue drove trumpetfish The trumpetfish
into frenzy, (as she was quite a dish!) Maculatus's proposition
"Dearest Madame, great siren of the sea,
I, trumpetfish, can end your misery!
For I am not cephalopod but fish
the great Aulostomus maculatus!
Hence you needn't fear intercourse with me:
we share no reproductive sim'lar'ty.
What say you, my lovely Madame Oct'pus
To a roll with Master Maculatus?"
Madame Oct'pus's tears dried straightaway Madame Oct'pus's
"O, how long have I waited for this day!" joyful response...
She cried with writhing, passionate mirth, and what it led to.
"To make love, without fear of giving birth!
Please take me, sweet savior, and do it quick
Don't make me beg for your salty fish stick!"
Trumpetfish did not need to be told twice—
making it with an oct'pus! What hot spice!
"Ready or not my darling, here I come,
prepare yourself to be struck blind and dumb!"
Madame spread her tentacles nice and wide
Eager to embrace this shift in fortune's tide.
Trumpetfish, ever randy and limber
leered! And drew forth his stiff, fishy member.
Then in the midst of erotic madness
Maculatus made this shocking bequest:
"O oct'pus I'll grant you my very soul
if you let me penetrate your ink-hole."
With a blush and nod, Madame consented
and showed her abyss, from which ink vented.
Her lover inserted his brackish prick
in the oozy place; some might find it sick!
But not that kinky creature trumpetfish—
he found the ink-hole to be quite delish!
Warm and succulent, smooth, greasy and deep
he speci'ly loved the way loose ink would seep
and lubricate his aggravated dong
(which had long ago grown quite stiff and long!)
But what of Madame? She felt none at all
for, by oct'pus standards, he wae quite small!
So, unthinkingly, she committed sin
by asking the worst question: "Is it in?"
Luck'ly Maculatus did not hear her
as he plundered that spot which grows no fur.
Afore long he shouted, "by Poseidon!
Madame, here I come! There, there, I am done!"
Upon which trumpetfish became quite soft
as he had filled her with his tartar sauce.
Maculatus sighed and lit a cig'rette,
blew rings and said "You're the best I've had yet!"
Madame, needless to say, was full of rage Madame's vengeful yet
still unsatisfied, she craved love's full wage. righteous decree
"O Trumpetfish, trumpetfish," she thundered
"my heart you have fooled, my hole you've plundered
and yet you have not pleasured me at all
I ought to make you into soup: fish ball!
Furthermore, in your lascivious greed
you filled me with your slipp'ry sushi seed.
I think that the punishment ought to fit
the crime that your carelessness did commit.
Here is my vengeful yet righteous decree
with your snout you must draw out your sperm, see
while at the same time with your tongue, please me."
Mr. Maculatus was slightly nonplussed The trumpetfish's boastful
yet still tried to give his ego a boost. reply
With these proud words, born of vanity great,
he made an appeal to his angry mate:
"Though I may not have eight impressive limbs
of my remark'ble snout, sea folk have writ' hymns!
Though I may not boast an impressive hose
I please ladies with only lips and nose!
Of my sincerity, dear, do not doubt
O Madame, I would love to eat you out!"
The sensual cephalopod grinned wide The felching of the oct'pus
again offered her ink-hole for a ride.
The trumpetfish went to work right away
pressed his mighty lips to her murky bay
and heroic'ly began to repay
his amorous debt, drawing out his seed
sparkling, salty, and white, bead by bead.
The oct'pus straddled his lengthy muzzle,
squeezed it tight, so her insides he nuzzled.
"Oh what a mighty manly proboscis"
she cried, "tickle me with its low slow kiss!"
Madame squirmed in aquatic ecstasy
as the fish ate her oily ink pussy!
Heart afire, her passion could not be quelched
(such is the pleasure of being well felched!)
Shortly, her bowels started to rumble
tickled to madness by the fish humbled.
His skillful scratchy tongue wrought forth from her
A mighty, momentous, octopus purr.
With a piercing shriek she evacuated
a blackish cloud. The oct'pus was sated!
Trumpetfish knew that his job was well done
now that he was smothered in oct'pus...stuff.
O trumpetfish, trumpetfish, what to do
with what remains—love's inky residue?
Nevermind, our lovers are quite content
who cares if their methods seem a bit bent?
So gods, seafolk, and men bless them alike!
Mermaids, sharks, dolphin, tuna fish, and pike
remember this inspired tale of love
that transpired in the sea's coral cove!
Tell it, whether in ocean, reed, or rush
our epic: THE FELCHING OF THE OCT'PUS!
