I sit on the sand, feeling his secretions leak from me, mixing with my own wetness. The sun is setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and red. My body feels satisfied for the first time in days. Not completely, but enough that I can think clearly.
And that clarity brings a terrifying realization.
I'm losing myself.
Each day I become more his creature. More dependent on his touch, his secretions, his approval. The Naia who stepped through the portal four days ago would be horrified at what I've become. Begging for tentacles. Spreading my legs for an alien creature. Choosing to stay near him instead of trying to escape.
I think of Sam. He's safe now, the credits transferred. He's probably already on transport to the Calgary Highlands. Safe from the rising water that's drowning our world. I did what I came here to do.
But what happens to me?
In twenty-six more days, the portal opens. If I'm still capable of rational thought, still remembering who I was, I might make it through. But at this rate, by day thirty I'll be so chemically dependent on Aylth that leaving will be impossible.
I need to get away. Need to break this cycle before it's too late.
During our swim today, I saw another island. Further out, past a stretch of open water. It looked bigger than this one, with actual vegetation instead of just coral. Maybe there's fresh water there. Food. Shelter that isn't saturated with my own pheromones.
The swim would be dangerous. The open water between islands probably holds predators. And Aylth will know immediately where I've gone. The scale marks me as his, lets him track me.
But I leave it on the beach. If he can't track me, maybe I can buy myself time. Time to think. Time to remember who I am beyond this constant need.
I wait until full dark. The bioluminescence in the water provides enough light to navigate. My body protests as I enter the water, some deep part already addicted to Aylth's presence. But I push through it.
The swim is harder than expected. The current runs against me, like the ocean itself wants to keep me in Aylth's territory. Things brush against my legs in the dark water. Not attacking, just investigating. Tasting what I am.
Halfway across, I realize my mistake. The arousal is returning. Not just the baseline from the tonic, but specific need for Aylth's touch. My body is already going into withdrawal from his secretions. The water carries my distress directly to any predator in range.
But I make it. Barely.
The new island is indeed larger. Rocky outcroppings provide better shelter. There's a small spring of actual fresh water, not drugged or saturated with pheromones. I drink deeply, trying to wash the taste of ocean from my mouth.
I find a cave higher up the rocks, defensible, with only one entrance. It's dry inside, lined with some kind of soft grass. I collapse onto it, exhausted from the swim and the emotional toll of leaving.
My pussy clenches on nothing, already missing the fullness of his tentacles. My skin feels too tight without his secretions soothing it. Every nerve is firing, demanding I swim back to him.
But I stay.
Because I need to know if I'm still capable of choosing to leave. If there's still enough of Naia left to resist. If I can survive without him, even if my body says otherwise.
The scale is back on the other island, probably already cold. He'll know I've run. Will he come for me? Drag me back? Or will he let me suffer the consequences of my choice?
Part of me hopes he comes.
The stronger part hopes he doesn't.
Because if he doesn't come, if he makes me choose to return on my own, I'll know exactly how lost I really am.
The withdrawal hits in waves through the night. Not just physical need but something deeper. My body craves his specific touch. His particular chemicals. The way he builds me up and breaks me down.
By dawn, I'm shaking. Covered in sweat despite the cool air. My pussy produces so much wetness it soaks through the grass beneath me. Every cell screams for me to swim back to him.
But I stay.
I have to know if I'm still strong enough to resist.
Even if resistance might kill me.
NAIA
