Thanks to Todger 65 for the edit.
*****
Splat! The sound of water hitting the surface woke the young woman. "Huuuurgh!" The rush of air into her lungs followed. "Cough! Cough!" Air and water expectorated again through her abused throat; the tight, painful clench of her chest as her body adjusted to the breath of air.
She lay on the floor, sinuses and throat burning, lungs heaving, coughing water and saliva.
"What the fuck?!"
she thought.
"I'm not dead?!"
A faint sense, just before she awoke, of something thick and fleshy, like a cock in her mouth, floated briefly to the surface but sank so quickly, she was unsure whether it was a dream or hallucination.
Charlotte stood on wobbly legs and looked around.
"Where am I? A cave?"
It could explain the whirlpool. A hidden cave, perhaps, had opened and caused the whirlpool, and she got caught in the vortex. She heard something similar happened in Florida.
"A salt mine, I think." The question was, "Where did the water go? And how am I going to get out of here?"
The cave was more a tunnel; tall enough to stand with plenty of room. It was dim but Charlotte could see, albeit she knew not the light source. It seemed to come from all directions but she couldn't detect any bio-luminescence.
The tunnel was warm and humid, almost like a sauna. The walls were black and shiny, rising from the floor in arcing patterns with ridges. Charlotte was uncomfortably reminded of the ribs of a skeleton.
The floor itself was a light gray. It continued away from her for some distance before curving off to the right. The surface was warm and damp beneath her feet. It felt like a wet carpet or moss.
The structure of the tunnel made Charlotte apprehensive. It looked unnatural, like something not created by geological forces but manufactured. The walls curved in too regular a pattern. The floor looked too flat and even to be a natural carving.
"Maybe I found a hidden temple,"
she thought.
It seemed silly; visions of herself as Indiana Jones or Lara Croft were fleeting and dismissed.
"Those college students thought I looked like Lara Croft,"
she thought again, smiling.
The milf walked down the corridor towards the curve.
"Naked, wet, and half-drowned," she chuckled. "Wonder what those kids would think now?"
Charlotte knew she had to find a way out of the cave.
"I hope it isn't too far from the lake,"
she thought.
"And please don't let there be bears."
Charlotte continued down the path. The luminescence seemed to increase as she crept through the tunnel. The corridor seemed to lighten though she couldn't be sure. She thought the light source might be at the end of the tunnel.
"Is that a glow" she asked. If so, it meant the possible entrance.
Charlotte began to run, ignoring the soft squelch of her feet on the wet floor. Hope turned to disappointment when she came to a large circular arc.
It opened into a wide chamber. The floor was the same light gray as the passageway. The chamber was the size of a small garage with a low ceiling.
"Darn!" Charlotte said.
The walls and roof were smooth, flat, and shiny, like obsidian. She stepped into the chamber and noticed circular patterns, of varying sizes and barely noticeable, dotting the floor like so many pockmarks. Charlotte walked across the chamber to the opposite wall where her reflection appeared, faint and pale against the black glass. She noticed circular patterns dotting the wall as well. She glanced upward; the same patterns decorated the roof.
"This is not a cave," Charlotte realized. The chamber looked too . . . ordered, too built. "What is this place? A temple?"
She looked at her reflection. Her light tan skin glowed shiny and wet in the faint light. Her dark hair was slick and plastered to her skin. Charlotte's expression betrayed no fear, just curiosity. The room was warm, damp, humid, with a faint odor, almost a musk.
Charlotte examined the room and found no exit, so she turned and, "What?!" The entrance was gone. The arch way through which she'd entered was now a solid black wall. A cold chill raced up and down the milf's spine. A cave in she could understand, not a doorway that simply goes missing.
"Oh shit! Oh shit!" she cursed, backing up fearfully. "This place is seriously strange."
She cursed herself for forgetting that Lara Croft and Indiana Jones had to deal with deadly traps, "And I just probably stepped into one."
She backed up until her back bumped against the wall, which turned out to be surprisingly warm . . . and very sticky.
<Specimen acquired. Preparing immobilization procedure.>
The command raced soundlessly through the ship. Charlotte, unknowing, became aware of a light, warm breeze wafting through the chamber.
"Where's it coming from?" she asked. "Maybe there's a way out after all."
However, when she started to search, she encountered a problem. "What the . . .? My feet are stuck?!"
Charlotte's feet were adhered to two of the circles in the floor.
"Ugh! Argh!" she grunted, struggling. "What the hell . . .?!" The circles held her feet fast. "Did I step in glue? What's happening to the wall?"
The wall at her back was moving. What at first seemed like hard obsidian glass, now felt like warm tar; warm tar which molded itself to her back and ass, trapping her against the wall while simultaneously supporting her body.
Charlotte struggled, caught like a fly in a sundew plant. She was terrified, but not to the point of panic.
"What is this place?!" she wondered. "God! Is . . . is . . . this place . . . alive?!"
The concept seemed beyond strange, but the objects emerging from the walls and floor around her belied such impossibility. "Oh . . . no! Oh my God!"
Wet sucking sounds filled the room. The walls, floor, and ceiling rippled and flowed like liquid. It was like watching spreading ripples from multiple stones cast in a black pond. The obsidian walls flowed like water, the floor, like quicksilver. Charlotte's body swayed as on a waterbed. "Oohhh! What's happening?!" she moaned.
A cold fear rose within the milf as moisture dripped from the ceiling. The rippling wall acquired a liquid texture that sent ice racing up Charlotte's spine. Her rising terror came from a chilling revelation.
"Oh God! The cave is alive! This is probably its stomach! Oh my God! I'm being digested!"
Charlotte, years ago, watched an episode of
X-Files
wherein Mulder and Scully nearly suffered a similar fate. It creeped her out. Unbeknownst to the milf, however, she was not in a real life "Field Trip". The oils dripping from the ceiling had a far different purpose than digestion.
The ship, in ancient times, was constructed according to rules and standards set by the governing bodies of the period. Among the regulations were words regarding the treatment of slaves, pets, scientific specimens, and other creatures who might happen to fall under the control of a higher sentient. So, if a lower sentient happened to be captured and/or used, of course the subsequent activity may be non-consensual but some benefit, at least, was required for the prisoner. It helped the situation considerably that the species of jellyfish, which served as the basis for the bio-engineered ship, was a source of rare and unique chemical secretions, known to produce interesting reactions from the erogenous areas of certain sentient creatures, mainly primates; a testament to the foresight of the junior executive with the brain of a Dalgonian flea.
The effect on Charlotte was notable for its familiarity. It began with the smell. "Sniff! Sniff! What's that smell? This cave smells . . . musky?! Holy . . .?! It smells like . . . like . . . sex!"
She gazed about, marveling at a cave which was not a cave. Clear beads of oil rained from the ceiling. The room rippled and spasmed like the innards of a great organ.
Charlotte knew instinctively that she was at the verge of a major event. "Something is going to happen," she gulped.
She hadn't felt so much as a tingle, much less pain, from the semi-viscous fluid dripping upon her body, so when the cave revealed its next surprise, Charlotte didn't scream but her terror was undiminished.
"Oh no!"
The pockmarks around the cave bubbled and bulged. Soft, wet, slurping sounds emitted from the hundreds of pimples lining the chamber. The pustules burst and a myriad of wet, gleaming tentacles popped forth, slithering and sliming into the now groaning cave. Charlotte wept and moaned as a veritable garden of slimy slithers grew around her trapped body.
The undulating abominations varied in size, texture, and coloring. Some were thin as piano wires, others thick as fire hoses. Some looked, swayed, and behaved like long thick tongues, dripping with slime. Others slithered like deep purple snakes, twisting sinuously between the tongues like mucus covered vines; and there were others, of shapes and forms of varying lengths and girths, of which Charlotte could only define by a ridiculous but appropriate name,
"Cock-tacles!"
New terrors emerged from the pustules; tentacled horrors of sickly greens, reds, and purples which reminded Charlotte of monstrous sea anemones risen from some primordial Lovecraftian ocean.
"Oh God! This place is evil!" she moaned. "Eek!"
