Round 309

Abby’s vision blurred behind a film of clinging bioluminescent fluid. The stuff coated her face, filled her mouth when she gasped reflexively—tasteless but thick enough to gag on. She could feel it soaking through her clothes, heavy and alive against her skin. Every movement shifted the weight inside her bra, and she resisted the urge to adjust. Her hands came up automatically, trying to wipe the shit off her face, but only succeeded in smearing it around and pushing more into her eyes. The stuff clung like glue mixed with semen, coating her lashes and making them stick together.

The creature’s hand remained locked on her throat, fingers splayed wide enough that she could feel every individual claw tip pressing into her skin. Not hard enough to break it—yet—but definitely hard enough to remind her he could if he wanted to. She couldn’t see his face anymore through the fluid, but she could feel him looming over her, his presence filling the narrow space of the tunnel. His other hand stayed wrapped around her thigh, holding her pinned against the wall.

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked gurgle as fluid filled her mouth again. Panic flared hot and sharp in her chest—she couldn’t see, she couldn’t breathe properly, she was completely at his mercy. The air itself seemed to pulse around them now, matching the rhythm of the creature’s breathing or maybe her own pounding heart. She could feel the heat radiating off him, soaking into her through the thin layers of fluid and cloth between them.

The walls around them had stopped their synchronized breathing entirely—hadn’t Silra said something about that being important? Some kind of warning sign? But thinking clearly was hard when she was drowning in glowing slime and pinned by a monster with his hand on her throat. The fluid between her legs shifted again as she squirmed, the weight settling into places it shouldn’t. She could feel it working its way inside her underwear, soaking the cotton until it felt heavy and damp against her skin.

Please don’t let him notice how wet I am, she thought desperately, even though the fluid had nothing to do with arousal—at least, not yet. Please don’t let him use that against me. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but the fluid in her mouth made it impossible. She could feel her heart hammering against her ribs, blood rushing in her ears as panic and adrenaline flooded her system.

Focus, she told herself frantically, what did Silra... The walls’ synchronized breathing stopped completely—everything except that low pulsing hum growing stronger like a heartbeat counting down seconds until next adaptation phase.