You drift, warm and drowsy, half-dissolved in Nerida’s soft belly. Her humming pulses around you like lullabies through saltwater. Her hand traces her lower gut with gentle circles, the way a lover might idle-stroke a full wine glass.

“Still awake? You poor dear… don’t melt too fast. I’m not ready to let you go. Not when you’re starting to taste like poetry.”

But then—pressure. A rush. Water becomes muscle.

Tentacles surge from below with tidal force, wrapping around Nerida’s tail and hauling her downward like a hooked fish. She yelps, struggling, but her arms are pinned—her rhythm broken. You’re jostled inside her as she’s dragged deeper into the dark.

Then—she stops. She’s held aloft in a curtain of thick limbs, cradled like fruit plucked from a reef. Below her yawns a living crown of tentacles… and in its center, a wet, breathing maw.

“A pretty catch,” comes a voice. Smooth. Deep. Feminine, with a lilt of curiosity. “I’ll admit, I expected a squid. Or a shark. Not a jewel.”

Nerida thrashes weakly in the kraken’s grip.

“Let go of me!”

The voice chuckles—not cruelly, but like someone admiring a kitten that thinks it’s a lion.

“You’re in my trench, child. That makes you mine. But don’t worry—I don’t eat with anger. I eat with appreciation.”

She lifts Nerida slowly toward the center of her tentacles.

“Now hush. Struggle if you like. I find it… charming.”

You feel Nerida’s muscles clench as the world tips—closer, warmer, wetter. She doesn’t mention you. She might’ve forgotten you in her panic. Or maybe, deep down, she knows your fate is about to be digested with hers.

Either way, the maw opens. And the kraken queen smiles.