Elena had been dreaming about him for eleven months before she ever saw him.

She was twenty-seven, a deep-sea benthic biologist, and she'd spent the last year on a research station above the Tormund Trench -- the deepest place on Earth. Every night, the dreams came: crushing dark, impossible pressure, and him. A presence. A voice like the ocean floor shifting. Tentacles -- vast, gentle, inhuman -- wrapping around her body, holding her, claiming her.

— Come down,

the voice whispered, night after night.

— Come down to me, little one.

On the eleventh month, she stopped fighting it. She suited up -- alone, unauthorized, insane -- and she descended in the little submersible. Down past the light. Down past the fish. Down into the crushing black.

And he was there. Waiting.

He filled the viewport -- vast beyond comprehension, a god of the trench, his body a cathedral of dark flesh, his eyes like bioluminescent suns. Tentacles -- dozens of them, each thicker than her body -- drifted in the current. And when he spoke, his voice resonated through the hull, through her bones.

— Elena, — he rumbled.

— My little scientist. You came.

She should have been terrified. She was terrified. She was also -- God help her -- wet.

— Who are you? — she whispered.

— I am the Crushing Dark. I am the god of this trench.

A tentacle -- impossibly delicate -- brushed the viewport.

— And you -- little one -- are mine. You have been mine since the first dream.

The submersible's lights flickered -- and died. The emergency systems failed. She was sinking -- deeper, the pressure building -- and she knew, with cold certainty, that she was going to die.

Unless --

— Please, — she whispered.

— Please -- help me --

— Give yourself to me,

the voice rumbled.

— Say the words, Elena. Say you are mine.

— I'm yours,

she sobbed.

— I'm yours -- please --

The hull groaned -- and then -- impossibly -- a tentacle phased through the metal. Through solid titanium. It wrapped around her waist -- warm, impossibly strong -- and the submersible's hatch opened. To the ocean. To crushing pressure that should have killed her instantly.

But it didn't. His power -- his will -- held the pressure back. Held the water back. She breathed -- and the water in her helmet tasted sweet.

— Come, — he rumbled -- and the tentacle drew her out of the submersible, into the black water, into his embrace.

She should have died. Instead -- she felt his power wrap around her like a womb. The pressure -- gentle. The cold -- warm. She could breathe -- the water flowing through her lungs like air.

— How -- — she gasped.

— You are mine, — he said simply.

— And I keep what is mine.

A tentacle -- thinner than the others, almost delicate -- stroked her face. Then her neck. Then -- through her suit, somehow -- her breast.

She moaned -- the sensation electric, impossible. The tentacle's touch was warm, textured with tiny suckers that kissed her skin.

— Damion, — she breathed -- the name coming to her from the dreams.

— Is that your name?

— Here, little one -- yes. I am Damion. Your god. Your master. Your --

the tentacle tightened gently around her waist

— -- your papi, if you wish it.

— Papi, — she whispered -- and the tentacles around her shivered with pleasure.

He drew her deeper -- down to his throne. An air cavern -- impossibly -- in the deepest trench on Earth. He set her down on black sand -- and his power stripped her suit away, dissolved it, leaving her naked and trembling in the warm dark.

— Look at you, — he rumbled -- a dozen eyes opening across his vast body, all fixed on her.

— My little scientist. My brave girl. Naked before her god.

She stood -- twenty-seven years old, lush and shaking -- and she looked up at him. He was so vast. So powerful. So -- beautiful, in an alien way.

— Please, — she whispered.

— Papi -- I need --

— I know what you need, mamacita.

A tentacle -- thick as her thigh -- rose before her.

— Kneel, little one.

She knelt -- on the black sand -- and the tentacle presented itself. The tip was broad, flushed dark, weeping a glowing fluid. She'd dreamed of this -- eleven months of dreams -- and now it was real.

She opened her mouth -- and took it.

The taste -- salt and ozone and something sweet -- flooded her senses. She moaned around the tentacle -- her tongue swirling around the broad tip, licking the glowing fluid. More tentacles joined -- wrapping around her body, stroking her breasts, her belly, her thighs.

— My devoted little girl, — Damion rumbled -- his voice vibrating through her bones.

— Worshipping her god.

She sucked -- desperate, hungry -- taking the tentacle deeper. It pulsed in her mouth -- thick, throbbing -- and she could feel it growing, swelling. Her throat stretched obscenely around its girth.

His thick throbbing girthy massive tentacle was hard as a rock in her mouth, throbbing and pulsating, almost as if it was going to burst. She knew he was going to stretch her throat sooo much. The huge tentacle forced its way deeper -- her throat stretching and stretching around its massive girth. She let out a loud muffled moan around it, and he moaned also -- a deep oceanic groan -- from the tightness of her throat gripping him. It was like forcing an extremely long thick cucumber down a throat.

Smaller tentacles -- thin, dexterous -- slid between her thighs. One found her clit -- circling it with exquisite precision. Another slid deep into her dripping pussy -- filling her, stroking that devastating spot inside.

She screamed around the tentacle in her mouth -- her body arching -- and she came, violently, her pussy clamping down on the tentacle inside her.

— Good girl, — Damion rumbled.

— My good, devoted girl.

He withdrew the tentacle from her mouth -- leaving her gasping -- and he lifted her. Tentacles wrapped around her -- supporting her, spreading her -- holding her open in the waterless air.

— Now,

— I claim you. Properly. — he rumbled

A massive tentacle -- thicker than her thigh, the tip broad and crowned -- positioned itself at her entrance. She was so wet -- so ready -- but he was so big. So impossibly big.

— Breathe, mamacita, — he rumbled.

— Breathe for your papi.

He pushed -- just the tip, just the broad crown -- and she screamed. The stretch -- God, the stretch. Her pussy lips stretched obscenely around the massive tentacle. He worked it in slowly -- rocking, letting her body adjust -- his other tentacles stroking her, soothing her.

— Oh fuck,

she sobbed.

— Oh fuck, papi, you're so big --

— And you're taking me, — he growled -- his voice thick with lust.

— Such a good little girl. Taking her god's cock.

He pushed deeper -- inch by impossible inch -- until he was buried to the hilt, his massive bulk pressed against her. She was so full -- so completely, utterly filled -- she could feel him in her throat.

— Move, — she begged.

— Please, papi, move --

He moved -- slow at first, then faster. The tentacle pounded into her -- deep, powerful strokes -- while smaller tentacles worked her clit, her nipples, her entire body. She was overwhelmed -- sensation from every direction, his massive presence surrounding her.

— Who owns you? — he demanded -- his voice shaking the cavern.

— You! — she screamed.

— You own me, Damion --

— Who is your god? Your master? Your papi?

— You are! You're my god, my master, my papi --

He reached -- a tentacle finding her clit, rubbing it in brutal circles -- and she came with a scream that echoed through the trench, her pussy clamping down on the massive tentacle in violent spasms.

He didn't stop -- he fucked her straight through it, his rhythm savage -- and she came again, wailing, her body shaking.

— Again, — he ordered.

— I can't --

she sobbed.

— You can. Come for your god again.

She came again -- screaming -- and he finally let himself go. The tentacle inside her swelled -- pulsed -- and flooded her with his seed. It was hot -- unnaturally hot -- and it glowed, filling her to overflowing. She could feel it -- her belly swelling slightly, bioluminescent light pulsing through her skin.

— First claiming, — he rumbled.

— Accepted.

He carried her -- tentacles cradling her gently -- to the breeding pool. A warm, glowing lagoon -- and in its depths, she saw them. The wall of brides -- women from centuries past, preserved in the rock, their faces peaceful, their bodies marked with his spirals.

— They chose, — Damion said quietly.

— As you will choose.

He laid her in the warm water -- and the tentacles didn't stop. They worshipped her -- stroking, caressing -- while he held her. Smaller tentacles slid into her -- filling her gently, keeping his seed inside her.

— Damion, — she whispered.

— I -- I want to stay. I want to be yours. Forever.

He went very still -- all his vast bulk focusing on her.

— What?

— I don't want to go back, — she breathed.

— To the station. To the surface. To being alone.

Tears filled her eyes.

— I want to stay here. With you. As your bride.

— Little one, — he rumbled -- his voice thick with emotion.

— If you stay -- it's forever. You'd become -- like them.

He gestured to the wall.

— Preserved. Mine. Eternal.

— Then preserve me, — she whispered.

— I'm yours, papi. Make me yours forever.

He gathered her close -- all his tentacles wrapping around her -- and he held her like something precious.

— My brave little scientist, — he murmured.

— My devoted mamacita.

He took her again -- in the breeding pool, slow and sweet -- his massive tentacle filling her gently, his smaller ones stroking her to climax after climax. She came -- softly, sweetly -- and he filled her again, his glowing seed marking her as his.

When it was done, he carried her to the wall -- and he pressed her back against the warm rock. She felt it -- the stone softening, accepting her, preserving her.

— Sleep, little one, — he rumbled.

— And when you wake -- you'll be eternal. Mine. Forever.

She smiled -- dazed, glowing, utterly his.

— I love you, papi.

— I love you too, mamacita. My bride. My forever.

The rock closed around her -- warm, gentle -- and she slept. And in her dreams -- no longer dreams of longing, but dreams of belonging -- she felt his tentacles around her, his voice in her bones.

— My Elena, — he whispered.

— My devoted. My eternal.

She'd come down to the crushing dark. And she'd found -- not death, but love. Not pressure, but embrace. Not an end, but a forever.

The end.

The claiming in the air cavern had been only the beginning. Damion -- her god, her papi -- had centuries of hunger, and Elena -- his brave little scientist -- had a body that was learning to take everything he gave.

After the first claiming, he carried her deeper -- into the heart of his domain. The throne room. A vast cavern of black crystal -- and in its center, a throne carved from a single massive stone, big enough for his vast bulk.

— Sit, — he rumbled -- and she sat on the cold stone, naked, still glowing with his seed.

He loomed over her -- all his tentacles spread wide, his bioluminescent eyes burning -- and he looked at her with something like worship.

— My Elena, — he breathed.

— My little scientist. Do you know what you've done? Eleven months I called to you. Eleven months you resisted -- until you couldn't anymore.

A tentacle stroked her face -- tenderly.

— You are the bravest creature I have ever known.

— Papi, — she whispered -- tears in her eyes.

— I was so scared.

— I know, mamacita. But you came anyway.

He lifted her -- tentacles wrapping around her gently -- and he laid her on the throne.

— And now -- I'm going to reward your bravery.

He spread her -- tentacles holding her thighs wide, her body open and exposed -- and he lowered his massive bulk over her. A dozen smaller tentacles descended -- stroking her breasts, her belly, her thighs. One -- thin and precise -- found her clit.

She cried out -- the sensation electric.

— Shh, little one, — he rumbled.

— Let your papi worship you.

He worshipped -- his tentacles working her body with exquisite care. One slid deep into her pussy -- filling her, stroking that devastating spot. Another -- thinner -- pressed against her back entrance, teasing, circling.

— Damion -- — she gasped.

— I've never --

— I know, — he murmured.

— Trust me, mamacita.

The thin tentacle pushed -- slowly, gently -- into her ass. She cried out -- the burn, the stretch -- but his other tentacles soothed her, stroking her clit, filling her pussy.

— Breathe, — he rumbled.

— That's my good girl.

She breathed -- and the tentacle slid deeper, filling her ass completely. She was so full -- tentacles in her pussy, in her ass, on her clit, on her breasts -- overwhelmed with sensation.

— Please,

she sobbed.

— Papi, please --

— Please what, mamacita?

— Please make me come. Please --

He obliged -- his tentacles working in perfect rhythm, filling her, stroking her -- and she came with a scream that shook the crystal cavern, her whole body convulsing.

— Again, — he ordered.

— I can't --

she sobbed.

— You can. Come for your god again.

She came again -- wailing -- and he finally took her properly. The massive tentacle -- thicker than her thigh -- positioned at her entrance, already stretched and dripping.

— Look at me, — he commanded.

She looked up -- into his burning eyes -- and he drove into her. Deep. Hard. She screamed -- the exquisite fullness, the perfect stretch.

— Mine, — he growled -- pounding into her.

— Mine, mine, mine.

— Yours!

she shrieked.

— I'm yours, Damion, I'm yours --

He fucked her -- on his throne, in the heart of the trench -- his massive body covering hers, his tentacles holding her exactly where he wanted her. She came -- again and again -- each orgasm more intense than the last.

When he finally came -- flooding her with his glowing seed -- she sobbed with relief, her body drinking him in.

— My queen, — he rumbled -- holding her close.

— My trench queen.

He carried her to the breeding pool -- as told -- and he laid her in the warm, glowing water. But there was more -- so much more.

He joined her in the pool -- his vast bulk displacing the water -- and he held her against his chest, his tentacles stroking her languidly.

— Tell me, — he rumbled.

— Tell me about the surface. About your life.

So she told him -- about the research station, the loneliness, the dreams. About how she'd felt -- called, claimed -- since the first night.

— I thought I was going crazy, — she whispered.

— You were being called, — he said simply.

— By me. By your god.

He lifted her -- and positioned her, facing him, in the warm water -- and he slid into her slowly, gently. She moaned -- the water buoying them, his massive tentacle filling her with exquisite slowness.

— Make love to me, papi, — she breathed.

— Slowly. Like you love me.

— I do love you, mamacita, — he rumbled -- and he moved inside her with slow, deep strokes, his eyes locked on hers.

— I've loved you since the first dream.

She came -- softly, sweetly -- her body pulsing around him. He followed -- filling her with his glowing seed -- and they floated together, tangled, the water glowing around them.

— Damion, — she whispered.

— The wall -- the brides -- will I -- will I be like them? Still? Aware?

— More than aware, — he promised.

— You'll be -- preserved, yes. But conscious. You'll feel me -- always. Every time I come to the wall, you'll feel my tentacles, my love.

A tentacle stroked her face.

— You'll never be alone, Elena. Never again.

Tears filled her eyes.

— That's all I ever wanted, — she breathed.

— To never be alone.

He held her -- in the breeding pool, in the heart of the trench -- and he made love to her once more. Slow. Deep. Tender. She came with a soft cry -- and he filled her, marking her, claiming her.

When it was done, he carried her to the wall -- and he pressed her against the warm rock. But first -- he turned her to face him.

— Elena, — he rumbled -- his voice thick with emotion.

— I, Damion, god of the Tormund Trench, take you as my bride. My queen. My eternal.

He pressed his forehead to hers.

— Do you accept?

— I accept,

she sobbed.

— I accept, papi. Forever.

He kissed her -- a deep, tender kiss -- and then the rock took her. Warm. Gentle. She felt it close around her -- preserving her, holding her -- and she slept.

But she dreamed -- and in her dreams, she felt him. Every day. Every night. His tentacles. His voice. His love.

— My Elena,

he'd whisper -- and she'd feel his touch, warm and real.

— My devoted. My eternal.

She'd come to the crushing dark seeking answers. She'd found -- love. Devotion. Forever.

And she was happy. Completely, utterly happy. In the arms of her god. In the heart of the trench. Home at last.

The end.

And sometimes -- on quiet nights in the trench -- Damion would come to the wall, and he would press his vast bulk against the rock where Elena slept, and he would whisper to her.

— My brave little scientist,

he'd rumble.

— My devoted mamacita. My eternal bride.

And in her dreams -- in her endless, blissful dreams -- she'd whisper back:

— I love you, papi. Forever.

The crushing dark held them both. And it was -- finally, completely -- home.