Page 17 of Alien Kraken's Prize

“If you push me in the water, I will hate you forever.”

I step back, affronted. “I would never. I was suggesting that you dip your… what is that? The end of your… ah, not tentacle? Dip that into the water and see if it gets cold.”

“My not tentacle?” Her forehead wrinkles. “Oh. My foot.”

“Foot,” I repeat, thrilled to have a word for the wriggly, pale things. “Fascinating.”

Bridget edges closer to the water. “Harry would want me to find him,” she says resignedly.

I should be annoyed that she is more motivated to find her Harry than be by my side, but I think it bodes well for us that she has clearly bonded to the Kelfer creature.

She is not as opposed to tentacles as other species might be.

I’m grinning when she finally glances back up at me, her pretty features growing on me more every time I see them.

“Foots,” I tell her, pointing to the water.

“Feet. The plural is feet.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t make the rules,” she says, then carefully dips one of her strange appendages—feet—into the pond.

A look of shock crosses her face, her mouth opening wide, and my cock immediately springs out of its pocket, insisting upon entry into that coral-pink mouth.

I’m startled I’m already yearning for her again despite having just clouded her in my essence.

“Put that thing away,” she snaps at me. “That is so inappropriate.”

“Your species is disgusted by genitalia?” I’m mystified, but I do as she asks, tucking it back away from her sensitive eyes. “Very strange rituals your people have.”

“Yes, we are disgusted when a random cocktopus springs out at us unannounced after already covering us in glitter jizz.”

“I don’t understand most of that sentence,” I tell her.

“I don’t understand how your glimmercum is working either, so I guess we’ll both have to agree to stay stumped.”

“I do not have stumps,” I announce, proudly waggling my tentacles for proof.

To my surprise, she laughs. A wonderful sound that leaves me reeling, that sets my soul on fire.

Ah, yes, there is no doubt about my biological compulsions toward this female.

I have no doubt we are compatible.

Now, I simply have to make her see that, too.

She still has only one foot in the water, and she stares out at the rippling surface with an acutely uncomfortable expression.

“I can carry you through the swim tunnel if you are nervous.”

“I can’t swim at all,” she tells me, and her words are a blow to my very heart.

I don’t know what to say, but when her face falls, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“How?”

“How do I not know how to swim?” That same look of good humor quirks her lips up again, and I find myself drifting ever closer to her. “I have lived on a space station my whole life. Water was only something we drank. It wasn’t a nice space station.”

---