“What are you doing to me?”
“Healing. Nothing more. This one's secretions mend torn flesh.” The tentacle moves to another bite. “Side effects are not this one's responsibility.”
Side effects. Like the fact that each healed bite makes my pussy produce a fresh flood of wetness. Like the way my clit throbs harder with each touch. Like how my nipples are so hard they actually hurt.
He works methodically, a tentacle for each wound. The secretion is clear, viscous, smells like ozone and ocean. Where it touches, my skin goes from pain to pleasure so intense I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning. By the time he reaches the bites on my inner thigh, I'm trembling.
“So responsive,” he observes as his tentacle works higher. “Modified chemistry accepts this one's healing eagerly. Imagine how eagerly it would accept breeding.”
The tentacle dealing with the highest bite brushes against my pussy. Just barely. Just enough to make me cry out and nearly orgasm from that slight contact alone. But he withdraws immediately, leaving me gasping.
“Not yet,” he says, and there's something like amusement in his alien voice. “Female has not suffered enough. Not begged properly.”
All the wounds are closed now, leaving faint marks that will probably fade within hours given how the tonic has enhanced healing. But the secretion in my bloodstream has made everything worse. My skin feels too tight. Every nerve is firing.The wetness between my legs has progressed from a stream to a flood.
He produces something from beneath the water. Webbed coverings that slip over my feet like second skin. They're warm, soft inside despite looking scaled outside. The moment they're on, my feet stop hurting entirely.
“Storm comes tonight,” he says, tentacles already withdrawing toward the water. “Bigger than yesterday. Female will need to choose. Drown in pride or swim to safety.”
“There's no safe place here.”
“This one's embrace is safety. Female too stupid to see.” He's sinking lower, but multiple tentacles still wave above the surface, tasting the air. “Third night breaks them all. Female's pussy already begs. Soon mouth will follow.”
“Never.”
But even as I say it, my body proves me a liar. A fresh wave of arousal makes my inner walls clench visibly, and I know he can see everything. See how swollen I am. How ready. How empty.
“Tonight, this one will be close. Very close. When storm comes, when water rises, when female realizes drowning is real possibility, remember: this one waits. This one could stop the ache. Fill the emptiness. Make the burning finally cease.”
He starts to disappear completely, then pauses. Only eyes above water now.
“The healing secretion metabolizes slowly. Female will feel its effects for hours. Each wave of need stronger than last. By sunset, female will finger herself bloody trying to cum. Will fail. Only this one's tentacles can provide relief now.”
Then he's gone, but I can feel him. The scale in my hand burned with a familiar intensity, confirming he's directly below where I stand. Watching. Waiting. Knowing exactly what his secretion is doing to my already desperate body.
I try to make it back to my original island, but my legs give out halfway. I collapse on the coral bridge, not caring that it scrapes my knees. Everything between my legs is throbbing. Pulsing. Demanding. The healing secretion has made the arousal into something beyond what the tonic alone created.
My hand moved on its own accord, fingers seeking my clit. The first touch makes me scream. Too sensitive. Too swollen. But I can't stop. I work myself frantically, desperately, chasing relief that stays just out of reach. I can feel the orgasm building, climbing, almost there, almost...
Nothing.
I sob in frustration, three fingers buried in my pussy, grinding against my palm. But it's useless. My body has been programmed to need something specific. Something with suckers and secretions. Something that can fill me in ways fingers never could.
The tide is turning. Water begins covering the coral bridge. I have to move or be swept away, but standing takes everything I have. My inner thighs are soaked, not just with arousal but with the overflow from a pussy that won't stop clenching on nothing.
I make it back to my island before the bridge disappears completely. The storm clouds he promised are already gathering on the horizon, dark and violent. Tonight will be worse than last night. Higher waves. No place to climb that won't be underwater.
I'll have to swim or drown.
And he knows it. He's planned it. Everything about this trap is designed to force me into the water where he has every advantage. Where my modified body will betray me completely. Where the need that's driving me insane will overcome any remaining logic.
I press the hot scale between my legs again, trying to use its smooth surface to soothe the burning ache. But it just makes meimagine him. Those tentacles. The way they'd fill me. How the suckers would feel against my inner walls. How the secretions would finally, finally let me cum.
A sound escapes me that's part moan, part sob.
From the water, an answering sound. Not quite laughter. Not quite words. But definitely acknowledgment.
He knows exactly what he's done to me.
