The anticipation is almost as intense as the breeding itself.
NAIA
My body knows the tide before my mind does.
The sensation starts deep in my core, a tightening that spreads outward as the water rises. By the time the morning surge reaches the palace's lower chambers, I'm already wet, already aching, already turning toward Aylth in our nest.
“Tide rises,” he murmurs against my neck, though we both know I'm aware. His skin burns against mine, fever-hot. A constant vibration thrums through him, strong enough that I feel it in my bones when we touch.
“I know.” My voice comes out breathy. Fourteen days on this planet, and my body has synchronized completely with its rhythms. “I can feel it.”
The morning high tides are gentler. Aylth explained this on day twelve: the single moon's elliptical orbit creates uneven pulls. Morning tides are softer, evening tides violent. My body has learned the difference.
He rolls me onto my back, tentacles already spreading to cradle me. In the soft glow of our chamber, I can see the tremor in his scales.
“Female's marks grow brighter,” he observes, tracing one of the patterns on my shoulder. Where his finger touches, the markflares, sending pleasure straight to my core. The marks have evolved since he first put them there during the frenzy. Now they form intricate patterns across my skin, connecting in ways that create pathways of sensation.
“Everything about me glows now.” It's true. My skin has developed an iridescent sheen that catches light even when dry. In water, I shimmer like the tropical fish that swim through the palace. The modification runs deeper than cosmetic; I'm becoming something between human and aquatic.
His breeding tentacle extends slowly, deliberately. The morning session is about connection more than claiming. He enters me gradually, letting me feel every ridge, every texture. The lock, when it engages, is smaller than during evening sessions. Enough to join us but not the overwhelming fullness of our more intense couplings.
“Female's body accepts so easily now,” he says, beginning the slow pulse that characterizes morning breeding. “No resistance. No adjustment needed.”
He's right. My body has adapted completely. What once required preparation now happens instantly. My pussy produces the exact viscosity of wetness needed, my walls stretch without discomfort, my cervix opens willingly to allow him into my womb. The breeding that once overwhelmed me now feels as natural as breathing.
The orgasms come in gentle waves, building slowly. He brings me to peak three times before allowing his own release, and the seed he deposits is measured, controlled. Enough to satisfy the biological urge but not enough to leave me swollen and immobile.
When he withdraws, I barely feel empty. We'll do this again in twelve hours, and my body knows it.
“This one must check borders,” he says, but reluctance colors his tone. “Strange currents last night. Unusual movements in the deep territories.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No.” The word comes out sharp, then softens. “Female stays in palace. Where it's safe.”
The protectiveness has increased lately. He watches me constantly now, tentacles always reaching to confirm I'm near.
“I can swim properly now. You know I can.”
It's true. The changes to my body go beyond the cosmetic. I can hold my breath for fifty minutes without his breathing kiss. My lungs process oxygen differently, extracting more from each breath. My muscles have become denser, more efficient in water. Yesterday, I raced one of his patrol fish and nearly won.
“Female swims well,” he agrees. “But something feels wrong in the currents. This one needs to know female is safe while investigating.”
I want to argue but see genuine concern in his eyes. The silver-blue has darkened lately, become more storm than calm sea.
He leaves through the main water entrance, and I watch his tentacles disappear into darker waters. The palace feels empty without him, though it's never truly empty. Creatures live in the walls, tiny things that maintain the coral, keep it healthy. They recognize me now, glow brighter when I pass.
I swim through the palace, marveling at how natural it feels. No struggling, no gasping for air. My body cuts through water like I was born to it. When I surface in the art room, I barely need to catch my breath.
The coral patterns on the walls shift as I watch, and I realize I can almost understand them. Not language exactly, but meaning. Emotion. The coral is happy I'm here. It recognizes me as belonging, as part of Aylth's territory now.
I place my hand on the wall, and the coral flares bright under my touch. But more than that, I feel something. A connection, like touching a living thing that wants to communicate. Images flash through my mind: Aylth younger, building these walls; storms weathered; rivals fought; decades of waiting.
“You remember,” I whisper, and the coral pulses agreement.
This is new. This ability to connect with the glowing life here. Another change, another step away from purely human. I should be frightened, but instead I feel wonder. I'm becoming something more than I was, something that belongs in this underwater kingdom.
The morning passes exploring my new sensitivity. Every luminous creature responds to my touch now, sharing simple communications. The fish tell me about currents. The coral warns of sharp edges. The tiny maintenance creatures show me hidden passages I hadn't noticed before.
