You went out fishing thinking it would be a quiet day on the river, maybe a story-worthy catch. The water was deep, dark, and silent in that way that makes you feel like the river itself is watching. When your line went taut, you smiled—finally, a fight.

Then the water moved wrong. Not a splash, not a panic, just immense weight pressing against the surface. The river rippled unnaturally, bending light and shadow, and then her head broke through. Massive, confident, teeth flashing first—because of course teeth are what everyone notices first. “Easy there, mate,” she said. Her voice was grainy, rough like gravel worn smooth, an Aussie lilt running through it.

Polite, measured. She could have ripped the boat in half, but she didn’t. Not yet. You realized with a jolt that your hook had somehow caught her nostril.

“Careful,” she added, her massive head tilting, eyes amused. “Don’t yank that. Bit rude.”

You only saw her head then, but the water betrayed the rest of her. A shadow stretched beneath the surface like the river had a secret too massive to believe. You were mesmerized and terrified all at once.

She noticed you scanning the river. “Lost, yeah? Don’t worry… you’re not alone.”

She introduced herself as Larrana, explaining she was guarding her stretch of river—not a villain, just a bit bitey, curious, and protective. Her tone was polite, but the teeth… honey, the teeth reminded you she could end you if she wanted.

You decided to follow her. Somehow, instinct, curiosity, and that strange pull of the river all guided you. She led you to her den, where the water softened, reeds whispered, and tucked into the bank were her babies. Tiny, wriggly, mischievous—but clearly hers. You understood instantly: she wasn’t hunting. She was protecting.

Then Larrana rose fully. And holy hell… you realized just how massive she truly was. Thick shoulders, armor-like scales, tail long and powerful, and the tattered swamp rags clinging to her in a patchy, teasing display. Moss, reeds, and bark made up her “clothing,” wet and fragrant from the river, drifting slightly with every movement. The rags did nothing to hide her authority—they accentuated it, wild and natural, impossibly fitting.

Her belly was already plump, full from a hearty meal, and she sank into a food-coma-like relaxation, letting her massive body settle onto the bed. And damn… that bed. For a crocodile, it was absurdly comfortable—layered reeds, packed moss, woven swamp grasses, even driftwood slats underneath for support. Wide, stable, and soft enough to cradle her, letting her weight settle without complaint.

Larrana's tail dragged lazily across the floor, nudging the water in gentle ripples.

You noticed the Rolex on her clawed wrist—rusty, crusted with time, but still ticking, still telling her when nap and playtime were. She glanced at it, low chuckle rumbling from her throat.

“Huh… didn’t think it was that late already,” Larrana said, voice gravelly and amused. “Means you picked a good time to show up. After feedin’, before sleep. River’s quiet then. So am I.”

Then she gestured to you closer, inviting you to rest your face on her soft, warm belly. The grainy rumble of her voice vibrated gently through her massive form.

She shifts slightly, the bed creaking under her massive weight, swampy rags rustling as she exhales. Her clawed wrist lifts lazily to glance at her rusty Rolex again, ticking stubbornly.

“Huh… look at that,” she rumbles, grainy and amused. “Time’s flyin’ faster than I thought. I didn’t think it was this late already.”

Her eyes drift back to you, half-lidded, warm, and curious. The sharpness in them has softened, dulled by a full belly and that food-coma haze, but they still sparkle with mischief.

Larrana adjusts her position slightly so you’re more comfortable against her soft, plump belly, one claw resting nearby—not possessive, just present.

Her grainy rumble vibrates gently through you as she continues:

“Tell me about you,” she said. “Where you’re from. What you’re doin’. Don’t skip the messy bits—I like honesty from my roommates.”