Kraken's Devoted Mate Begs for Deep Tentacle Breeding
Marine biologist begs her giant kraken mate to breed her deep with thick tentacles.
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I am Elara Voss, twenty-eight years old, and for three years I have kept the most dangerous secret of my life.
Every night, after the research vessel’s crew turns in, I slip over the side of the Nereid in nothing but a thin wetsuit and a rebreather. I swim down through black water until the submerged cavern opens like a cathedral of stone and living coral. There, in the glowing dark, waits Thalor.
He is ancient. He is enormous. A kraken whose mantle alone could eclipse a whale, whose tentacles could crush steel. And he is mine.
His voice first touched my mind three years ago—deep, resonant, like tectonic plates grinding together with unbearable tenderness. You are not prey, he had rumbled inside my skull. You are the one I have waited for. Since that night our communion has become something far more intimate than science. He is my mate. I am his.
My body has changed for him. My skin craves the textured slide of his suckers. My cunt aches with an emptiness only his impossible girth can fill. Every night the tension coils tighter. I have never begged him to breed me. Not yet. But tonight the ache is unbearable.
I reach the cavern mouth and shed the wetsuit like a second skin. Naked, I kick forward into the phosphorescent glow. The water is warm here, heated by geothermal vents and by the sheer living heat of the creature who owns this place.
Elara.
His voice rolls through me like thunder wrapped in velvet. Two enormous tentacles rise from the shadows, thicker than my torso, their undersides shimmering with rows of pulsing, dinner-plate-sized suckers. They curl around my waist with shocking gentleness and draw me deeper into the cavern until I hover before the massive, intelligent golden eye that studies me with centuries of hunger.
“I’m here,” I whisper, the words bubbling past my lips. The rebreather is already gone; he keeps a pocket of breathable water around me with some trick of pressure and will. “I need you tonight, Thalor. I can’t stop thinking about it.”