Nerys woke up only slowly, and it was long before she could separate the dreams from reality. Wherever she was now, it was wet, dark and warm. The tentacles were all still inside her, and no part of her was free of contact with the creature. Her hands and legs, forced away from her body, were fixed by the strong, alien limbs. On her skin they felt like strand-woven flesh, soft, but with an unnerving unlike any humanoid she had ever known.
Her breasts had swollen, how large she didn’t dare imagine, and from the feeling of it were now being milked, slowly and surely, by the wet, hungry mouths of her violator.
She was aware that she wasn’t breathing, that there was nothing to breathe at all, and also, that this didn’t bother her anymore. Whatever oxygen she needed, it was finding its way into her system. Her dreams had been dark and intense, full of hungry, violent sex, and wet, squirming things, forcing themselves inside her, filling her up one by one. Most of it was a dream, and still, all of it had been real.