By
the time she got home, Q’s stomach was aching with its live
contents, and constantly rumbling a long, distressed protest. The
octopus was still very much alive and squirming inside it, and the
raw flesh combined with the movement was making it very disagreeable
to the girl’s stomach. Q’s high-riding dance tights covered her
lower abdomen and just allowed her belly button to peek above its
edge, and her crop top laid bare that section of midriff. That region
of her belly, below her ribs

The lamia stirred sleepily,
semi-awake. The faint sound of voices and small shallow footfalls in
the near distance drew her out of her slumber. The serpent-woman
propped her upper body upon her elbows and raised her head, blinking
open bright gold eyes and peering interestedly through the lingering
dusty fog of her den towards the inviting sounds ahead. She was an
ancient beauty, in the prime of maturity – cascading curtains of
dark hair; full, firm breasts; slender waist, flaring hips, and be