FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

There were only shadows there, bathed in hollow echoes and dust. He wasn't supposed to be there. It was an unfamiliar place the moonlight could barely touch. Cold concrete beneath him was not a comfortable seat. The lone buck couldn't remember how he'd arrived there. Nor did he have any idea where he was. The windows were boarded, and in the light that slipped through the cracks he could only faintly glimpse the outlines of forgotten machinery.

Metallic sounds faintly reverberated from the rusted engines and mechanisms as a draft blew through what looked like an old factory. Unseen parts creaked and strained in the distance. Cherno found himself wrapping his arms around his chest, rubbing at himself to keep warm. He rose. The clack of his hooves tapping against the cold floor beneath him resonated several times over, bouncing through the empty halls, returning to him thrice over.

It struck him that he was alone. There was no sign of anyone else being there. No one had visited that place in a long time, judging by the thick layers of accumulated dust all around him, drifting into the air as he passed by the rusted parts of machines long since abandoned. He had no guesses for their purpose. There were gears, tubes, belts. While he didn't know much about factories, the equipment looked outdated, even ancient. He stepped carefully, quietly, lest his movement cause the neglected steel to crumble into scrap metal.

His eyes were relatively keen in low light, but even he was squinting just to see an arm's length in front of him. He kept his hands raised so he didn't walk into anything, and tapped his hooves across the floor in front of him before putting all his weight down. For all he knew, a careless step could have sent him tumbling through a collapsed ceiling or into a pit. The clack of his hooves sounded hollow, as if there was only a thin layer of concrete beneath him and the floor below.

He searched back through his recent memory. There had to be some explanation for him being there. He didn't remember going to any party, or otherwise becoming intoxicated. But when he thought about it, he couldn't remember his past hours at all. There was his usual day, nothing out of the ordinary there. But try as he did to think of anything beyond supper time, and there was only a blank space. He couldn't remember how he spent his evening, nor if he had even laid himself down to sleep.

If it was a dream, then he had never felt one like this. Every sensation, from the chilly breeze to the sound of his echoing hoof-falls, to the smell of rust and dampness, was distinct. He bit his lip to see if he could feel pain, and only succeeded in making himself flinch. As one final check, he closed his eyes, and then forcefully opened them again, in a way that had worked for him before when he was having nightmares. It didn't help, and he shivered just to close his eyes for a few seconds. As little as he could see, letting his attention to his surroundings waver even for a few moments made him nervous. Like something might take the opportunity to ambush him from the murk.

When he scanned around, he was briefly startled by something flickering in the distance. He couldn't tell how far it was, but there was a gleam of white light that drew his attention. Faint, but persistent. In and out, following a slow, pulsing rhythm. It looked like electric light, which surprised him given the run down state of his surroundings. Whatever it was, he had no other viable options but to head towards it. He needed to get out of that place. To breathe fresh air rather than the dust and stagnant water around him. To find someone he knew, and hear their voice instead of just his own shaky breathing. He couldn't keep it steady.

Water was dripping from somewhere. There was nothing unusual about that, of course. The crumbling building had plenty of holes in it, and surely some rain trickled through the cracks in the ceiling. Yet there was something about the familiar sound. The constant plink-plink of drops splashing to the floor. It was at once an irritation as much as it was strangely hypnotic. He fixated on it. Turning his head towards the apparent source, but seeing nothing. He stared off in the darkness, pushing other thoughts aside to instead predict when the next drop would fall. It became such a distraction that he almost didn't see the wall before walking right into it.

As near as he could tell, he had crossed the factory floor. The source of that light was right in front of him. It was a cracked emergency bulb behind a metal cage, faintly projecting its glow to attract him towards the spot. Beneath it, illuminated in that sporadic glow was a small container marked with a weathered sign. He could only read part of it.

-LIGHT INSIDE

That brought relief to his tightened chest, and he immediately reached for the handle. It was seemingly locked, or maybe rusted shut. It didn't budge at first, and so he gave it a firmer yank. The grating sound of metal against metal hurt his ears, and went echoing out among the dormant machines behind him. He couldn't help but continue to make a great deal of noise as he struggled with that case, feeling it outright loosening from the wall instead of opening as he got rougher with it. He couldn't bring himself to stop, even if he ended up breaking it. The promise of light was too enticing to his fearful mind.

Eventually, it burst open as some solid piece snapped, and Cherno staggered back. Something fell out and to the floor below with the alarming sound of breaking glass. He felt his heart sink, and immediately dropped to his knees to retrieve what fell. His hands fell upon the handle of a heavy old flashlight in time, and he picked it up to inspect it. The lens appeared to be cracked, but he pressed the button anyway. When that did nothing, he gave it a few shakes, and slapped it, gritting his teeth, haunted by the creeping sense of something coming up behind him the entire time.

When the light finally flickered on, bright and steady. It beamed up to the distant ceiling, casting elaborate shadows of his antlers. Cherno turned around abruptly, brandishing his newfound light like a weapon. A sword against the darkness. The cracks across the lens distorted it somewhat, but it still allowed him to see much better than groping around in the dark. He scanned back the way he had come, letting the shadows dance over the silent machinery, painting shifting, eldritch outlines across the room. He couldn't see a single door, a single exit. The windows were far out of his reach. And on the catwalks above, he spotted something out of place.

It almost looked like the silhouette of a person, but when he shone his flashlight directly at it, it was gone. Yet when he moved the light away once more, it returned, standing there. He squinted, trying to determine if it was just an odd trick of the shadows, or something else. The outline looked like a womanly form, curvy and broad, but there was something off about it. Not quite right. Tilted over, bent in unnatural ways. As if imitating a person's form, but not perfectly.

Try as he did to get a better look at it, anytime the light was near it, it vanished from his sight. It wasn't moving anymore simply seeming to stand and stare. Watching him, he thought. He didn't want to take his flashlight off of where it seemed to be. Something about it was making his skin crawl, his fur stand up, his limbs feel like they needed to spasm or lash out uncontrollably. How he wished for a simple switch, or lever, something that would simply fire up every single light in the building, even if it meant half blinding himself.

Eventually, it was gone entirely. He didn't see it move. It occurred to him he had flattened himself up against the wall behind him, leaving him feeling its cool touch through his clothing. Which didn't even fit him right. They didn't feel like his own clothes. He tugged at the collar and adjusted his belt, suddenly uncomfortable. He was in a place he felt he wasn't supposed to be, wearing something that belonged to someone else. All he wanted, more than anything, was to find his way back home, to his own bed.

But he wasn't going to do that by just standing there. So he turned around, scanning along the wall for a door, until his flashlight finally reflected off a dull metal handle. He made his way over, and inspected the heavy door. It was latched several times over, including with a padlock that still had the key inserted in it. There was no window to the other side, merely a simple piece of weathered paper taped to it. On it was a simple pattern of six dots, like the face of a six-sided die.

Though it didn't mean anything to him, just looking at those simply drawn markings left him with a inexplicable feeling of dread. Like his insides had grown somehow hollow. Not out of hunger, but rather he felt chilled, even fragile. Like his bones were made of glass. He found himself contemplating how easy it was to break a creature of flesh like himself. Found himself picturing his own body from a second point of view, until he whipped his head around and found himself briefly staring into his own eyes. They were wide and gleaming, almost glowing there in the dark in a way he'd never seen before.

That snapped him out of it. He was back in his body, and rubbed at his muzzle with confusion. Maybe the silence was getting to him. He just needed to get out of that place. Escape it, however he could. And he couldn't see any other doors, any other way of getting out. He wanted to be away from all that metal, all those unnatural contraptions. From those rickety catwalks, the haunting shadows they cast shifting as they swayed. The door was giving him a feeling in his stomach that made him tighten his jaw, just to stand before it, but he wasn't going to just stand there. Anywhere was better than where he was. So he started unfastening all the locks and bolts, the clicks and clacks resonating out around the expansive room behind him.

Even once he'd pulled off half a dozen latches and locks, the door itself still gave him some trouble. It felt like it weighed more than he did, leaving him dragging his hooves against the floor as he heaved and tugged. That produced the sound of straining metal, but it didn't budge for several seconds. When it did, he was left off balance, hit with a rush of humid air that wafted out from the other side, as if it had been trapped in there a while. He pointed his light through the doorway, and found himself staring down a set of featureless stairs. They stretched down farther than his light could reach.

The sound of water running through pipes rumbled up from below. They rattled behind the walls, rickety. The whole place sounded like something was going to collapse at any moment. He left the door open behind him and started his trek downwards, listening to the echo of his hooves bouncing back and forth around him, and the rushing water getting closer. There was only one way to go, and he kept a firm grip on the flashlight as he continued his descent. But that cracked glimmer could only shine so far, and barely cut through the humid darkness.

The wet air only got thicker as he made his way down. He still couldn't see the end. The stairway was uncomfortably cramped, and there were no exits, no landings. His antlers barely cleared the ceiling, and the walls nearly brushed against his shoulders as he went. He wasn't a large person, but even he felt a distinct sense of claustrophobia going through there. Like it could just close in or collapse on him at any moment. Still he pressed on.

He kept one hand running along the wall as he went, keeping his balance on the uneven stairs. The last thing he wanted was to go for a tumble. He might fall forever, he thought. So he cautiously continued, feeling the dampness in the air growing, until his fingers were growing wet just by touching the wall beside him. There was the scent of something, too. Wetness, but strangely pleasing to him. Like he was descending towards a great, underground lake. He let that picture remain in his mind by way of distracting himself from the confined space. To keep from being overwhelmed. Soon he could return to a comfortable place, among the trees and open air, he told himself. He could bask in lacks and roll in the grass, far away from steel and icy concrete.

His legs were starting to grow tired. There was nowhere to stop for a rest. He'd lost track of how long he'd been going down. It had to have been several floors by then. All without a single door, or any other features. Only the stairs, heading ever downwards. He had gone too far to turn back. He just had to keep going until he found something. The sloshing pipes were soon accompanied by the unwelcome grind of what sounded like a motor or a generator in the distance, chugging away somewhere beneath him.

Eventually, there was a wet sound. He hardly saw it coming, but he finally found himself on a landing. There was an ankle-deep puddle there, and his hooves splashed into it loudly. The noise startled him a little. He stopped and scanned around. There weren't many options. The staircase continued down and out of sight, that stale water trickling towards uncertainty. Beside him was a door, one that sat loosely on its hinges, light shining from the other side. That was promising, so he didn't hesitate to push through, leaving the door wobbling as he opened it with ease.

There wasn't much light, for certain. Just a single naked bulb, swinging back and forth on a cord from above. It flickered and buzzed as he stood under it, looking up. Maybe it was just the light in his eyes, but even when he pointed his flashlight towards the ceiling, he couldn't see it. Just a long, flimsy wire drifting back and forth. Rather than consider it any longer, he just examined the rest of the room.

There wasn't much to see. There were a few old lockers, many of them dented inwards. A wooden bench in the middle had collapsed on one side, leaving it more like a ramp. There was a sink on the other side of the room, and its faucet was dripping faintly. Something about that bothered him. If no one had been in such a place for so long, then that must have been a lot of water wasted. Yet that light above still hadn't burnt out. So maybe someone had been down there after all.

Either way, he approached the sink and gave both taps a firm crank. That produced a rumbling sound from below he could feel in his hooves, and right up his legs. A violent rattle came from the other side of the wall, along with a metallic groan, but the drip didn't actually stop. He huffed and just glared at it a moment, then shrugged. When he looked up into the scratched mirror before him, he saw something he recognized reflected in the dirty glass. Six small points of light, arranged in a symmetrical pattern, hovered there just behind his left shoulder.

He whirled around. There was nothing there, but the reflection remained. Maybe it was just some strange trick of the light. The mirror wasn't exactly in pristine condition, and the sole light source in the room was pretty faint. He reached over his shoulder and swiped at the spot where those reflections appeared to be. The air was cold, but empty. The only sound was the buzzing light and that constant, aggravating drip, drip, drip.

There was nothing more for him to do there. No other exits, nothing lying around that might have helped him find his way. Or defend himself. Maybe he could have pried up a piece of that broken bench as a makeshift club, but the wood looked soggy and weak. It was probably useless. And there was still no indication of where he was, or where an exit might have been. Weren't there supposed to be rules about such things? Fire safety or the like? He felt like he was descending into a mine with how deep he'd gone. But at least mines had directions, had signs and maps. His surroundings were simply featureless, nonsensical.

Frustrated, he went splashing back into the stairway once more. He found himself lamenting the lack of a railing. It was going to be slippery with that little river running down each step, soaking the cold stone. He hoped it didn't mean the bottom was flooded. If there even was a bottom. He was starting to doubt that, the longer he went down, tapping his hooves through that cramped, echoing stairwell.

Something touched his ears. He went swatting at the air as if it had been an insect, but it felt more like someone had been breathing directly into them. There was nothing there, but his ears remained perked as he focused in, stopping on a crooked step to listen. There was a voice coming from down below. Somewhat muffled, or distorted. Like it was being filtered through something. It might have been a recording. That would have explained its haunting tone, that sense of something simply being off about it. Whoever the voice belonged to, her song was slow, following a repeating, wordless melody that dragged him away from fear and instead into sadness. It sounded like whoever was singing it was in mourning, crooning the last goodbye to her beloved.

Though the song was sweet and sad, there was something about it that unsettled him. For one, the singer never seemed to stop for breath, carrying her notes without a single pause between, each blending into the next to make for a constant wail. And though he didn't make out any of the lyrics, he just somehow knew they were more than gibberish. The language might not have ever fallen on his ears before, but she was definitely singing words. Moreover, hers wasn't the only voice. Beneath her sombre tones, there were several other tones, deeper, more ragged and harsh. They faded into his hearing as he continued to descend.

As much as he felt he might have been in danger, he couldn't think of any other option. If someone was there, they had to know a way out. And there was nothing in the entire universe he wanted nothing more than to get out of there. To never visit such a place again. So he pressed on into those oppressively humid depths, his senses filled with the scent of damp concrete. It smelled more like rain than anything, something which happily reminded him of safer, more familiar places. That had to be a good sign. He was meant to go down there. Just a little farther and he would be free, he assured himself.

When he finally found the bottom of that tremendous staircase the singing was suddenly much louder. Almost shouted at him, growing more aggressive, even angry in its tone. The words, such as they were, stayed the same. He couldn't tell what direction it was coming from. For a while, it seemed to be coming from his right, but when he turned his head that way it ended up on his left instead. It wasn't moving, it just seemed to be projected at him from all sides at once. He stepped through an empty doorway and found himself standing in a featureless room. One with a thick, pervasive darkness that seemed almost aggressive as it drifted towards him, barely fought back by his flashlight. Which gave an ominous flicker, as if struggling to keep the dark from overtaking him. He could barely even see his own hands.

He gave his light another shake, which served well to steady the beam. The wooden supports around him indicated it might have been some sort of basement, but that was the best he could come up with to explain it. Why there was such a long staircase to get there, he had no idea. But he pressed on, pushing through air that almost felt like steam. Some sort of machine was chugging somewhere, sounding greatly distressed like it had been cranked up to a speed it wasn't supposed to maintain. He felt it rumbling beneath his hooves like an engine. The floor was wet, and it only got wetter the further he pressed on, until he was outright wading through cool, murky water.

A flooded basement didn't seem like the safest place to explore, but he had already come this far. There had to be a way out somewhere. It couldn't go on forever. So he kept his arms up and waded, swinging his hips back and forth, feeling his pants clinging to him as they got soaked. The water didn't seem dirty, but it was far from translucent. Instead, it seemed almost pitch black, not even letting him see his own legs beneath the surface.

He tried to move in the direction of those voices, but he still couldn't figure out exactly where they were coming from. Eventually he couldn't bear the frustration. The doorway was already far behind him, and the water was everywhere. So as much as his lingering sense of danger told him it was a bad idea, he raised his voice to call out for whoever was there.

"Hello?"

The singing immediately ceased mid-note as soon as he spoke. He didn't say anything more. In nature, he was used to the quiet, but there was never truly silence. Something was always chittering or chirping. The wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves. There was never that utter emptiness, that paralyzing void of sound that surrounded him in that moment, leaving him standing perfectly still, scared to breathe.

It persisted until his lungs began to burn. His mind started to make its own sound. He heard hushed whispers running through his head, as if someone had their lips pressed right to his ears. They spoke in various voices, some like his, some entirely different. He couldn't pick out any single word, but he could tell they were saying something. It was all getting so loud. All blending into one cacophonous noise. He clutched at his head, trying to shut them out, but that only made them louder, more insistent. Mocking, laughing, condemning him. He couldn't stand it.

When something interrupted them, they all faded away at once. A shriek from the dark pierced Cherno's ears. A harsh, industrial noise like metal scraping metal. Almost like a scream. But it couldn't have been organic. It rose in intensity until it sounded like it was all around him. Loud enough to leave his ears ringing, to make his stomach feel upset. Grating, grinding, scraping, screeching. It wouldn't go away. It would not go away.

He saw the pattern. The six small dots. They were bigger than before. Reflecting in the distance. They gleamed with colourless light. He couldn't see their source. But they were nearing. Approaching him, and swiftly. Along with them came the noise. The awful, deafening howl of anguished steel, scraping, ever scraping, like the gnashing of metal jaws. A terrible machine meant only for the slaughter of the living. Those words simply manifested in his thoughts until he couldn't think of anything else. So he ran.

It was difficult to manage much speed in the waist-deep water, but he pushed through it as hard as he could. He paid no mind to the cramping of his muscles, the tightness of his chest. He needed to get away. Away from the sound, the light, from the danger. It was singing to him again. But not like before. There was something poisonous, something spiteful and malicious in its tone as it continued the song. Like whatever it was hated him for reasons unknown. He tried to shut it out. Tried to cover his ears as he ran lest his brain simply melt down to mush. The words it shrieked behind him were not meant for his mortal ears, his frail mind. They were filled with deeper meanings he couldn't begin to comprehend. Simply hearing them was churning his thoughts into a disoriented haze. He couldn't stand to listen any longer, lest he simply descend into babbling insanity.

The water was getting shallower. He didn't know where he was going. All he knew was he was fleeing. And without looking back, he was almost certain it was giving chase. He couldn't let it catch him. It wasn't death he was afraid of. Something worse. Something he couldn't fully understand, but in its unceasing song, he could catch mental glimpses of a fate he couldn't begin to fathom. Something he couldn't ever imagine himself. A realm, a universe of horrific possibilities opening up within his mind's eye. And the means to that unwanted forbidden knowledge was coming closer, screaming, screeching, singing into his very soul.

He could hear it crashing through the depths. The water shifted behind him as something moved through it. Something large. He could see a hallway ahead. A place that wasn't flooded. The water was low enough that he was sprinting rather than wading, his hooves slamming down to the wet floor below. Faster than he had ever run before. His chest was burning. His eyes were watering. But if he got away from the water, he would be safe. At least, he had decided as much.

Something tripped him up. Even already soaked as he was, it made him feel wetter. A slippery, slimy something that grasped at his ankle, sending him tumbling down with a stilted scream. Despite the discordant sounds of metal and machinery behind him, the thing that had him was distinctly fleshy. Squishy, slimy. Like a sea creature perhaps. It was strong. And it was dragging him back, until the water briefly overtook his head. He lost his flashlight to the depths, but there was still a potent source of light looming over him in those six circles reflecting on the water as he went under.

He thrashed. Fought, kicked, tugged with all the might he had, and then some. His hooves were hard, so he used that to his advantage. Striking at the thing that held him. Kicking himself in the process, but it was no matter. Anything to get free of its grasp. To fight his way to the shore, as it were. His fingers scratched deep into the wet concrete below, and he choked and gurgled beneath the surface as the water entered his throat. But it was letting go. He was slipping free.

Desperate, exhausted, sore, he clawed his way out of the water and to the floor beyond. Dripping and gasping, he just remained there on his hands and knees while he coughed up some of the water he had swallowed. It tasted like any other water, but there was something he didn't like about it. Like he could feel something running through veins just for having it inside his body. At least the noise had stopped. At least it didn't hurt to think anymore. Though he never was going to be able to forget what he had seen, what that wretched song had revealed to him.

He sat there, rubbing at his ankle, where it had grabbed him. There was no pain, but he could feel something anyway. Just like a mark upon his body. As if it might scar somehow. Slowly rising up, he used the wall for support, experimentally putting some weight down on the afflicted leg. While it didn't hurt, his knee still buckled. The leg was just weaker, somehow. To the point he couldn't run anymore. Only limp, shuffling along, leaning against the wall as he went huffing into the darkness, knowing only what was directly in front of him. In the distance, something rattled and thumped.

It was completely dark. The light had faded from behind him. His flashlight was gone. There were only his other senses to guide him. He kept his hand on that wall, and took each step cautiously, weakly. As bad an idea as it seemed to follow the sound, he didn't want to go back to the water. So he simply followed that irregular drumbeat, that distant crashing and banging, hoping perhaps it might guide him somewhere.

He'd lost all sense of direction. First, so very far down. And then through that massive, flooded room. Then there was the hall, or perhaps tunnel he was traversing. Such a place was impossible. It had to have an end eventually. He couldn't shake the feeling of a looming presence, of someone breathing down his neck. But he never looked back. There was nothing to see.

Eventually, he couldn't dismiss it as simply his nerves. Something was breathing. It was all around him. Slow, ragged breaths that sounded strained, almost painful. They shook, broken and incomplete. And as he listened to them, he felt them too. Hot air was blowing past him. It didn't dry out his sodden fur. If anything, it only left him feeling wetter, as he basked in that intoxicating humidity. And the walls were growing softer. His fingers were sinking into its squishy surface as he used it for support. And beneath his hooves, it was slick, soft. Like flesh.

He went faster. It was difficult, but he couldn't let himself linger. He wasn't going back. The way out was through. He told himself that. That kept him from panicking, even as those breaths turned more rapid. Rising, huffing, panting all around him. The walls constricted inwards. Pressing against his body. Writhing, slickly compressing. But there was still a way forward. He never stopped. No matter how strong the heated air gusted in his face.

When he saw light, he knew he was going to make it. Bright, white in the distance. It went along with the crackle of static. A simple sound, but one that gave him hope. Maybe there was someone he could speak to. Someone he could call, for help. For rescue. That was how it worked in the movies, wasn't it? Someone would hear him on the other side, and they would find him. Somehow.

That feeling of hope brought the strength back to his weakened leg. He strode with confidence, determination. He ignored the meaty squish of the floor beneath him. That writhing texture all around him. He could only imagine what he was walking through in the darkness like that, but he didn't let it stop him. Didn't let it frighten him. The rapid, laboured breaths grew more distant as he ran until he felt more solid ground beneath him, listening to those puffs of air replaced by his own as he exerted himself in hopes of finding his way out faster.

The crackling continued. And there was more light. The floor shifted back and forth between them, and he heard a sloshing sound. Was he on a boat? That didn't seem possible, but he found himself struggling for balance all the same as his surroundings rocked on unseen waves. The light above him was bright white, and it thrummed in and out, leaving him in utter darkness every few seconds. But it was enough to allow him to navigate, and he pressed through spacious hallways on his way towards the sound. The crackling was constant, and he couldn't imagine it to be anything other than his salvation.

There still were no windows, but he was thankful for the open space at least. The wide halls were a welcome change from the cramped passageway he'd pressed through just to get there. He was by then miles from his starting place, he figured. Yet he had never seen more than a glimpse of the outside. He longed to feel dirt and grass beneath his hooves, to be away from all the buzzing and rattling of unknown devices. Everything was unfamiliar. Everywhere was a place he wasn't supposed to be. And he could still hear that constant rumble, that almost violent clanking and crashing coming from somewhere beneath him. He tried to ignore it.

He was running on pure adrenaline. It was tempting to simply collapse. To give in to his exhaustion, both physical and mental. But there was hope. He just needed to find the source of that crackling static, he told himself. So he was pushing through doors, peeking and peering around. It was impossible for him to tell what the purpose of each room was. They were scattered, messy. Objects with recognizable meaning were there, but arranged without any particular coherence. A rusted bed frame, beside a desk. An antique bathtub propped up in the corner, right next to a rack of wires and circuitry flickering away.

There was technology old and modern, but he couldn't tell what any of it did. He pushed through one door after another in pursuit of the static, hearing it slowly growing louder, but not as quickly as he liked. In those few seconds of darkness, every time the lights faded back out, he felt a creeping, tingling sensation working over his shoulders. Telling him something was right behind him. But when the light came back up, there was nothing, and the feeling was gone.

When he finally pushed through a door and found the source of that crackle, he rushed to it at once. The room was otherwise empty. Just an ancient, dusty ham radio sitting upon a flimsy wooden table. He didn't much know how to use it, but he took hold of what looked like a microphone and pressed the button on the base.

"Hello? Hello? Is there anyone there? Hello?" he frantically called.

There was only static on the other end. He reached for some dials and adjusted them haphazardly. That produced varying tones of white noise, but nothing helpful. Until he turned one dial all the way, and there was just silence. He tried again, speaking into the receiver, trying to make his voice as clear as possible.

"Hello? If anyone can hear this, I need help. I don't know where I am, but I think I might be in danger."

Something went click. There was a burst of static. And then, a voice.

"Can you hear me?"

It was heavily garbled, but he managed to make out what she was saying. He all but lunged at the radio.

"Yes, yes, I can hear you! Can you hear me?"

She spoke sharply. "Listen to me."

He frowned, but stayed silent. She went on.

"You need to run. You need to run from here. Don't let her get you. She's coming. Listen for her song. She is coming."

The static grew sharper, distorting the other person's voice as she ceased speaking, lapsing instead into a tortured cry. Cherno had never heard anyone scream like that. More voices joined. A chorus of the anguished, wailing until their cries became choked and violent, then faded into silence. The radio clicked once more, and the lights on it turned off. And that was when he heard the singing.

It was a sweeter song than before, like a lullaby. He found no comfort in it. Opening the door to the hall slightly, he peered through the crack. The lights were flickering more rapidly by then. He heard them buzzing, sparking. Somewhere, a bulb shattered. There was nowhere to hide in his current room. So he pushed out into the hallway, and began to run, in whatever direction he could manage. As long as it was away from that sound. From her.

As her song loomed closer, he saw shadows forming over the walls. Tendrils of darkness, creeping and twisting across the pristine surface, tainting them with her presence. He dared not look behind him. Only forward, as the rapidly flickering lights nearly blinded him, making it hard to tell where he was going. He turned a corner, burst through a doorway, charged through a room, sending scattered sheets of paper flying. His body was aching, pushed to its limit, but he wasn't stopping until he found a proper exit.

When he spotted a set of stairs letting up, he didn't hesitate to take them. His hooves clanked upon the metal steps as he went looping back and forth, soaring up several stories. That eventually brought him to a heavy hatch, and he turned the handle as fast as he could, feeling tension surging through his muscles. He wanted to just keel over. But he heard the way they howled in agony over the radio. He couldn't fathom what kind of torment could make someone produce such an unholy sound. He didn't want to find out.

When he pushed that hatch open, he was stricken by the misty air of the sea. Though none of it was visible. There was no moon, no stars. Only a wall of darkness all around him, as if adrift in the void. He couldn't even tell what sort of ship he was on. A glance down, and he saw a flickering glow, and a shadow that crept its way up the staircase. In her wake, there was less than darkness. A wall of black like the very void itself, consuming everything it touched.

And in the middle of it all, a smile, glowing bright amid the gloom that she projected.

He slammed the hatch down, pressing his hoof atop it. It didn't fully close. He kicked it, jumped on it, but there was still a gap. And from it, came another of those appendages. Or, tentacles. There was no other word for it really. It writhed and whipped back and forth like an aggravated serpent, dripping some viscous substance. Her light shimmered from beneath the hatch. Her song grew harsh, as if she were spitting it at him. And before he could run, she had him in her grasp once more.

This time, there was no fighting her off. No matter how much he kicked, how much he struggled. He was being dragged back into the depths of the ship. Except, he couldn't see anything down there anymore. Just her smile. And those six glinting eyes above. He grasped at the hatch with the last of his might, but it didn't last long. Then he was plunging into the unknown depths below, his only company that of the smiling abomination who sang to him in the dark.

He couldn't see anything but her shrouded face. The light within her maw reflected against the back of her teeth. And there were many. She brought him close enough that he could feel her breath upon his fur. The rest of her came into view shortly after, illuminated by the light within her. Slick. Slippery. A monster of a woman, her curvaceous form dripping with slime. And from her shapely body emerged several more tentacles, wetly writhing their way towards the dangling buck , wrapping him right up.

They took him by the wrists, by the ankles, by the throat. Even his antlers weren't spared, his head yanked back by that powerful constriction. He was caught in her embrace, watching her head tip back and forth, almost looking curious. She was still smiling. Still singing to him, despite hardly moving her mouth. The sound simply seemed to echo up from within her throat. And all around him, there was simply nothing. Nowhere to escape to. Nowhere to hide.

With a smattering of slime and a generous amount of slick noise, she began to explore his body with her tentacles. Perhaps it was more they began to explore him all by themselves. Each seemed to have a mind of its own, groping over his body like a swarm of eels, leaving any of his exposed fur coated with that clinging ooze. She pulled his clothes away. They almost seemed to melt from his form, sodden and weakened. When she let them fall, he didn't hear them land.

Naked and at the mercy of the unknown creature, he could only whimper. He didn't dare protest, or even struggle much. Especially when she stroked across his features with an alarmingly flexible tongue. She tasted every detail of his face, sparing nothing. He had to shut his eyes when she slurped across them. He grit his teeth, tried not to shake too much. All he could do was hope she wasn't as harsh with him as he feared.

The groping tentacles continued across his body. He couldn't count how many were coming at him. Each of them dripping, thick. Kneading into his fur, stroking him. She hardly spared a single part of him. And as the examination continued, several tentacles found their way to more intimate places. Grinding beneath his tail. Stroking between his thighs. And caressing across his lips. She took every liberty with him she liked. And even in his terror, it felt good.

He couldn't resist her when she penetrated him. A tentacle beneath his short tail, wriggling its way inside of him. Cool, in an almost soothing way. Comfortably spreading him open as it sank into his depths. Slipping, slopping, absolutely soaking his insides as it constantly oozed that lubricating slime. The thick mess grew noisy as she schlicked and schlurked her way deeper, deeper. Until he could outright feel her inside his belly, winding through every single inch of his intestines. Impaled, yet so soft, so malleable it never hurt him. No matter how rough or forceful she got.

And then another was jamming down his throat. It should have choked him, but like the first, its smooth texture helped him easily accommodate to it. Even as it slipped all the way down until it was meeting the first inside his belly. They groped around within him, touching him with such strange intimacy, grinding in and out with a sopping splatter of those excessive juices. He couldn't describe their taste as anything more than 'wet', but something about them was actually turning him on.

Which meant that when a third tentacle went for his sheath, enveloping it entirely and latching on, it didn't have to work hard to make him aroused. It was still plenty forceful, sucking upon his sheath, working it back and forth to try to yank out his cock before it was even ready. When he offered her even a single inch, she pulled on it greedily, massaging it within that gelatinous tentacle, producing sound lewder than a pair of lips ever could. It nearly felt like she was going to pull his member right from his body, pluck it right from its sheath with how hard her tentacle was sucking on him, but he endured. And soon grew to an engorged, throbbing state, even dripping for her. He heard an indulgent gulp as soon as he was leaking pre, and she fondly moaned and murmured to him from above as she drank of him.

Without further hesitation, she began to fuck him. And hard. Those glossy tentacles plunged in and out of him, spurting something watery inside his body. It left him feeling swollen, gravid. That slime was spattering all over him, bathing him well beyond the wetness he'd already acquired in the journey so far. Those tentacles that weren't inside of him simply massaged over his body. Groping, taking in his every detail for herself. And all the while he could hear nothing but the schlick, schlick, schlick of those lubricious appendages pleasuring him deeper than he had ever felt before.

He might even have enjoyed it if not for her looming jaws, so very close to his face. She was drooling. And when he gazed past her fangs, into that warm white light inside her, he could only shudder. It wasn't just that she might eat him. It was what would become of him if she did, that he feared most. Every thrust, every shove of her tentacles inside of him only brought him closer to her slavering jaws, while she licked across her teeth. She wasn't singing anymore. Instead, there was simply the sound of overstressed machinery grinding all around the two of them, the source of all the noises remaining unseen.

When one tentacle wasn't enough, she added another. Then another. There were two beneath his tail, alternating plunging back and forth like pistons. Two down his throat as well, grinding across his tongue, stiffening when they throbbed only to grow soft again. He never choked, never gagged on them. But she was relentless. Bathing him in their precipitous juices as the many others rubbed over his body, dribbling something that could easily be mistaken for precum. She seemed female, but that wasn't how she was treating him.

Being penetrated so deeply that she was fucking his very belly was already excessive. Yet she still pushed on. End to end, top to bottom. All the way through. A tentacle tip dangled from his lips, stroked beneath his tail. And more were entering him. Some stopped early, grinding at his throat, or at his prostate. Stimulating him in so many ways he wanted to scream. But there was no getting out any sound but for a gurgling in his throat with how many tentacles were shoved in there, thrusting, fucking, writhing. Yet she never choked him, only made him gargle that generous fluid as it oozed all through his insides. Every single inch she could reach. Places he'd never felt touched by anyone else.

The one that hungrily slurped at his cock was relentless. He could still feel it gulping, swallowing even the slightest offering of fluids he provided. And they were only growing thicker the longer she toyed with him. He was spurting pre, gasping, whimpering sloppily around the two appendages fucking him in the throat. He was clenching down, tightening, losing control of his muscles. She just tugged at his limbs, spreading them wide, ensuring he couldn't protect himself. Couldn't do anything but endure the assault until he was ready to cum for the lurking horror. Whatever she was.

It rushed from him just as those many translucent tubes stiffened, pulsed, and began to bulge with an exorbitant payload of something white. And glowing. Her seed surged inside him, massively flooding him with that strange, lewd substance at the same time as he climaxed. Rather than a few rapid spurts, he simply became a hose. Trapped in an endless peak, an constant gush of buck cum beyond anything he'd ever given before. That tentacle hungrily gulped it down, sending it swelling down towards her body, seemingly absorbed. He couldn't stop, couldn't come down from his mountainous peak, could never feel anything but pleasure. Pouring out his ecstasy until his eyes started outright rolling back in his head.

He couldn't think, couldn't even remember how he got there anymore. His senses were all going numb to focus simply on the feeling. She filled him up and made his belly sag, made him drool and overflow with her unnatural cum. She milked him of every single drop he had to give until his balls were clenched taut to his body, leaving him dry-firing but still enjoying the rigid sensations. And just in case all she'd pumped beneath his tail and down his throat wasn't quite enough for him, all the other groping tentacles soon joined in on the mess, every single one of them erupting over his exposed hide. He was immediately submerged, slathered, almost suffocated in the sweet mess before long, feeling its warm scent invade his dulled senses, taking over his very thoughts.

When she was finally done, and he could barely even be seen beneath the glossy mess, she let him dangle there a while. Finally removing the many penetrating tentacles. Letting him rest. He couldn't even feel his vitals. His heart wasn't pounding - it simply felt absent. The same went for his lungs. He wasn't gasping, simply motionless but for his glazed eyes, regarding her lustrous form as he hung there in her grasp. The sound of his belly sloshing was all he heard for a time, everything else falling silent.

She didn't release him from her hold entirely, but some of those tentacles withdrew, sliding back to bob about her body like a cloak. She put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him against her form. As slippery as her tentacles were, she was even slimier. And so much bigger than him, towering above him as she hugged him right against her bust and belly. He felt her stroking her claws up and down his back, and he could only shudder, and drip.

He turned his head away, resisting her embrace. She was soft, even sexy to most, despite her monstrous appearance. But a buck like him had never been much for the female form. Tentacles were one thing. Feeling her curvy shape rubbing against him, unable to make room between them both, that was enough to get him squirming. She only squeezed him tighter. Whispering into his ears, speaking strange syllables that sounded like they had meaning, but not one he could discern. He was squished up against her body, sinking in against her curves. And then he was sinking right inside them.

Though she felt solid, fleshy, when she held him tightly enough, he passed right through her skin. He felt a sensation like plunging into a pit of goo, feeling her embrace creeping up his legs, copious slime clinging to his skin like tar. Cool and soothing to the touch, but stifling in its thickness. She claimed his hooves, moved up his legs.. He was being fed directly into her rounded belly with a crude schlurp. Watching himself vanish into her bulk and her curves as she rubbed up and down his spine. There was no other way to explain it. She was eating him. In the most direct way possible.

He turned his head, shaking it 'no' repeatedly, but he couldn't' even manage to mouth a protest. Not when his limbs were already going numb. He pushed hard against her bust, trying to get some leverage. But she simply began to absorb his hands as well. She was consuming him, taking his body into hers, and all he could do was watch as she smiled down at him. It looked like she was enjoying herself.

Eventually he managed something of a scream. It gurgled in his throat, still somewhat clogged with all the goop and cum she'd pumped into him. He thrashed and he fought, but every movement he made only had him sliding deeper. He was trapped within her confines, legs curling up where her stomach ought to have been. There was only the gel-like texture of her body, compressing all around him, slurking, writhing, getting into his every orifice until he could smell or taste nothing else. That oozing touch slipped up across his belly, across his chest, and up across his throat.

He met her many eyes in that final moment before he was gone. Her sickly sweet expression had never changed. When he tried to scream again, he couldn't even manage to gurgle. Nonetheless, she shushed him. And then pressed that digit atop his head, right between his antlers, using the force of a single finger to shove him right inside. He was overtaken by her slime, face vanishing into her belly just beneath her breasts, and all was dark.

What he lacked for visuals, she made up for by assaulting all his other senses. He was surrounded by her scent. Wet, strange. Like something from another world. And the touch of her body was all around him, squishing inwards and making plenty of wet noise. He was immersed in her slime. Listening to it squelch and slop around him. The taste only grew more intense, stronger even than the seed she'd poured down his throat. He was barely able to move. He could feel her breathing, feel her every motion as it shifted his soaking surroundings, constricting around him tightly. Enough to crush him, if her body wasn't made of such a supple substance.

She was rubbing at herself, and the shape he made trapped there inside her body. He fought, he flexed his muscles, but he was trapped there, floating within her dripping bulk. A captive in her curves. He could still breathe somehow, despite the complete immersion, so he didn't have to worry about suffocating. But there were so many worse things she could do for him. He felt her groping him, tingling and touching over every single part of his body with what felt like a thousand tiny tentacles. Kneading, stroking, almost tickling as they worked up and down his form. Flexing taut, and producing a multitude or wet glurks, as if gulping.

It was more than simply taking him captive, a hostage within her nightmarish body. She was consuming him, drinking of his body, of his very essence. He felt the tug and on his every detail. Taking little pieces of him away. Draining him until he was growing leaner, his skin pulling more tautly to his skeleton beneath. Outlining ribs, and joints. Leaving his face a sunken mask. He could feel it all, and though he couldn't see, the sensations painted a potent picture within his mind. She was destroying him. Sucking him dry like a gluttonous spider.

Eventually his breath became a wheeze as his tightened chest struggled to inflate. He knew he wasn't getting away. He belonged to her now. But he couldn't accept it. Couldn't calm himself and submit to his fate. Being eaten was one thing. To be melted, absorbed by a monster, he couldn't let it happen to him. Couldn't stop his efforts to resist, even as his hands and hooves were outright liquefying, being absorbed and distributed among the creature's hefty mass. He was already becoming part of her body before he'd even ceased drawing breath.

It wasn't an acidic digestion, and it wasn't painful, but it was ruining him all the same. His body simply began collapsing, crushing in the tight contractions of her slime. He wasn't in her stomach, simply trapped within her featureless abdomen, kneaded by the goo all around him until he felt his very bones trickling away like they were no more than ice. Melted like nothing, while she continued with her satisfied groping. Rubbing at the belly that had claimed him, even seeming to taunt him with some generous attention to her breasts and hips. He was only going to make her womanly form thicker, and in those forgotten depths, no one would even know where he had gone.

Such were his thoughts as he felt his skull caving inwards, bringing what he was certain would be death. He stopped moving, and could no longer feel any sort of physical presence of himself. His body was entirely gone, not a single speck or trace left floating within her viscous form. But he could still think, was still existing as at least a consciousness, trying to grasp just where he was. And he could hear her singing once again. The gentlest song of them all, made disturbing by his current state.

It was audible even through the constant chorus of fleshy noise resounding in his ears from all around, the only other thing he could perceive. All his other senses had faded. He drifted there, knowing nothing but the sound of her slime, or her slick and slippery skin. Every other sense was empty. He'd been eaten by her in that unknown place, disintegrated down to less than nothing. As he drifted there, he could feel himself fading away. Some form of him was still remaining, but it was growing tired. Whatever energy she hadn't yet destroyed was weakening, diminished by the ravenous churns of her dripping body.

It was more than just his flesh. More than simply dying a single death. He could feel her taking everything from him. He wasn't sure how he knew that. But as he merged with her flesh, there was a clear picture in his head of exactly what was happening to him. A faint blue glimmer within her swollen belly almost resembled him, or at least his outline. It flickered and it squirmed, the edges starting to erode. And then it faltered and it melted, turning into a azure sludge, all light and colour fading from it as it was absorbed into the monster's hungering mass. He knew at once she had claimed his soul, rapidly digesting it to nothing, ensuring he could never truly escape her. That he remained as part of her down in that forgotten abyss, never to see any sort of afterlife. But it got worse.

As he fell deeper into darkness, listening to her song fade along with every other sensation, he knew that she was consuming things he had never even thought tangible. He could feel her drooling jaws gnawing at his mind. Could feel his thoughts and memories being eaten one by one, ripping away pieces of his very identity until he could only think of himself in the present. He no longer remember what had come before. Precious moments with the people he loved were plucked screaming from his mind, erased as if they'd never happened. And when she continued claiming him, they never had.

The very idea of him ever existing was being wiped from the universe, leaving only an empty void where he had once been in the memories of others. Erasing him from the records, and from the lives of even his family and closest friends. The buck named Cherno had never been. His mark upon the world was gone. Yet still there was some fragment of him, some vague consciousness left to process the horror of his situation. She wasn't done.

After she consumed and digested the very idea of him, she moved on to probability itself. Not only had he never been. He never would be. It was never even possible in the first place. The mere chance of his existence became simply a part of her belly. A little pudginess on her thighs. Absorbed to make her thicker. Fuelling her horrific power and her glory. There was nothing left of Cherno. Physically. Spiritually. Conceptually. No one had ever even dreamed of him. And they never would again.

***

Choking, whimpering, and flailing his arms, Cherno awoke in a state of intense panic. He cried out wordlessly, choking back terrified sobs as he tangled himself up in his own blankets, struggling against something that wasn't there. He kicked out, hitting the wall beside him. He rocked back and forth and he shrouded his face beneath his sheets. His whole body was shuddering, twitching, rife with alarm that kept him from calming down. It was just a dream. But it couldn't have been. Dreams didn't feel like that.

He could hear birds chirping outside the window. It was morning. He was safe and warm in his own bed. Whole, and definitely existing Nothing had eaten him, nor was he covered in that clinging slime. Yet his heartbeat wouldn't return to normal, and he couldn't stop shaking. He jolted when he felt a hand upon his back, and remained concealed beneath the covers as if they might protect him.

"Shhhh. Cherno. You're awake now. Breathe for me."

Whoever was there in his bedroom, she sounded familiar. He breathed plenty for her. Hyperventilating a while, until he felt dizzy. A second hand joined the first, soothingly rubbing at his shoulders while he shook there beneath his fortress of blankets. He could still feel it. Still feel the terror running through his mind in his last moments of existence, contemplating the reality of an eternity in the abyss. It obviously hadn't come to pass if he was still there, feeling such things, but to even glimpse such a possibility ... all he could do was whimper.

When he wouldn't come out of the blankets, she just took hold of him. It was hard to tell how big she was, but larger than him for certain. Stronger too. He felt her chest pressed against him as she hugged him close, running a hand over his concealed head as he remained inside his protective cocoon.

"Shhh, shhh. Sweet deer. You are going to be okay. Nothing else can harm you now," she whispered.

Her voice had a soothing quality to it, almost musical. His scalp tingled some just to hear her. He stopped shaking, in time. His heart slowed back down to normal. He was breathing regularly again. It was enough that he chanced peering out from under the covers. The early light was shining through the blinds, and his bed was pleasantly warm. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to accept it was just a dream. Especially because she was the one holding him, looming in all her perverse frightfulness over his bed, supporting him in her arms.

He immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, a scream battering against the gate of his fingers. It was her, the very same six-eyed monster, with her toothy, glowing smile, sitting right there in front of him. Her slippery body reflected the glinting sunrise shining through the window. Tentacles danced about her head and shoulders, bringing back the memory of how they had felt plunging inside of him. Yet for all the horror, physical and existential, she had just inflicted on him, she didn't frighten him any more. In the daylight, her monochromatic monstrousness didn't look nearly as threatening. Her smile was kindly rather than unsettling, and moreover, he recognized her.

"... Senka? I ... wow, I don't. I mean. I didn't ... "

Of course he knew her. In the nightmare she had been an unknown, a total stranger. Which was exactly what she told him it would feel like. When his rattled thoughts became clear once more, his memory was restored. She may have been a living nightmare, but he knew her by name. Even called her a friend. And she hadn't even entered his dreams without his permission.

"Good morning, Cherno. How are you feeling?"

She released him from the hug, and instead just took his hand. He let her her grasp his entire hand in her fingers, feeling her slimy touch over his fur. She was still a bit on the cool side, and her skin was oddly soothing against his. He took a deep breath, and just steadied himself further. As violently as he had awoken, once he had settled down, he couldn't help but feel fantastic. Even after that shock. He was well-rested, comfortable, and even his muscles were relaxed, free of tension. Like he was only just finishing with an elaborate spa treatment.

"... Surprisingly good. Is that normal?"

"Of course. I'm only here for your dreams. I told you I wouldn't really hurt you. And the least I can do is ensure you have a pleasant sleep while I feed."

He returned her smile as the memories came flooding back to him. "And I trusted you. I just ... wow, I didn't feel asleep at all. I was somewhere else."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "That is kind of you to say. The first dream isn't always the most effective. I experiment and prod at your mind, so to speak. You may have found it a little scattered."

He chuckled. "There was... there was so much happening. I was scared the whole time. But in different ways. I didn't know there were that many ways to feel fear."

That seemed to make her quite happy to hear, judging by her brightened expression. "It is a complex emotion. And a delicious one. Did you have fun?"

That made him outright laugh. "Fun? I mean. People like being scared - but usually because they know it's not real. That - that was something else. But yeah. Now that I think about it, it was pretty fun. I had no idea what to expect! I almost got away from you, too!"

"No one gets away," she assured in a playfully ominous tone. "Was there anything you found too frightening?"

"That part at the end, when you were, well, whatever you were doing. Digesting me, but more than just me. I've never felt that kind of fright before. Never thought about just... ceasing to exist. Or never having been in the first place." As relieved and cheerful as he was, thinking on that made him bite his lip. "I still don't know what you are, or where you come from, but I know you're, ah, powerful. You wouldn't really do something like that to someone would you? Just... erase them?"

"You have nothing to fear from me, Cherno. I will never harm you for real." She reached up and ran her brutal claws carefully through his hair.

That didn't exactly answer his question, and he suppressed a shudder. Maybe it was presumptuous of him to inquire after the affairs of a cosmic horror like her. As he'd been taking to calling her. A term she seemed to like. Before the silence could last for too long, she brightened him up with a teasing question.

"On the other hand, did you enjoy the surprises I had for you?" Her expression, if it could be called that, was cheerful.

He felt his cheeks turn a little warm, and cleared his throat. Sitting up in bed, he ended up having to conceal his slight arousal as he thought back to some of those sensations. Tentacles had always been a pretty big turnon for him, one he had no means of pursuing for real until he met her. And he'd never even told her about it. "Now that I can think about it without the fear - wow, Senka. You really know how to please a buck."

She warmly chuckled. "I had hoped you might enjoy that. Given what I had planned for you next, I thought it was fair to pleasure you a while."

"Y-yeah, hah. I've always wanted to try something like that before," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head.

"I know. And we can try it for real sometime, if you like." A few of her tentacles swayed suggestively at the mention.

"I would ... yeah, I'd love that." He grinned, then tipped his head. "How did you know about that? I don't think I've ever mentioned it to anyone. Unless you stole my browser history."

"When I'm walking through your subconscious, there is little I can't see." And when he reacted to that with a bit of discomfort on his face, she reassured him. "You are a very kind person. In fact, you remind me of someone I know. In more ways than one."

"Oh, you can just tell that?" He was still thinking about a few more private thoughts and moments that she likely knew about.

"Mmhmm. And your dreams were simply succulent, if you don't mind me saying. If you did indeed enjoy yourself, perhaps we might do it again. With your permission of course. "

He thought about it. About exploring, about the thrill of the chase, of being caught, and attacked. Of the terror running through his body as he made his escape, and the uncertainty of pressing on into the darkness. Even if it wasn't real, he wasn't going to forget it anytime soon. Not like other dreams. Yet, he found himself thinking. If he could handle that, if he could keep pressing onward despite his own terror without becoming a blubbering mess, there was nothing the real world could throw at him he couldn't handle. He felt brave, even proud of himself for his performance. So he nodded vigorously.

"I think I would be up for that. I've never really felt emotions that intense before. But I feel like I might be stronger for it. So you got ... nourished, out of that?"

Senka nodded. "I am happily full. Thank you again for letting me in."

"Anytime," he assured her, though when he thought about it he raised a cautious finger. "Actually, wait. That's just a thing people say. Maybe not literally anytime."

That made her softly laugh. Which sounded like half a dozen voices at once, all of them sweet and musical but for one beneath them all that was almost threatening, guttural. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to be afraid of her. Not when he was awake. There was something so inherently gentle about her, even with her appearance, that simply told him that he would always be safe as long as she was around. As long as she knew he existed, even.

"Of course," she promised. "And next time, we'll have even more fun. I am starting to get a taste for your mind. There are so many things I can still yet do to you."

Even such words, coming from someone who had come to his world from a place he couldn't even comprehend, didn't intimidate him. She wasn't trying to be scary. Simply stating what was true. She leaned in and gave him a wet kiss on the cheek, leaving a bit of her soothing slickness upon his fur. Then she stood up to her full height, taking up a large portion of the room, seeming to suck some of the light and colour right out of it. A few tentacles writhed and twitched about her shoulders as she moved, and the chair was left coated in her slime.

Before she went, she gave him a last smile. "I almost forgot. Happy birthday, sweet thing. Do enjoy your day. I will visit you again soon. All you need to do is listen for my song."

The memory of her melody echoing through the flooded depths might have seemed chilling to anyone else. But he knew what she was really like. Oddly enough, he couldn't help but feel greatly comforted by the thought that she was coming back. A monster, an abomination from beyond the known universe, had entered his life, and promised to return on an unspecified night. Somehow, that thought just made him smile.

It was much worse not knowing what was out there, what terrors lurked in the darkness. He had gazed directly into the abyss. Met fear itself made manifest before him. And instead of losing his mind, he could only feel excited to see her again. He wondered what further nightmares she could conjure up for him. And he also wondered if her tentacles felt as good when he was awake.