"Horrid little creatures."

“...and this is the hellsquiggler farm!”

Narrow, swaying, rickety catwalks criss-cross over a writhing sea of pseudopods, filling the vast warehouse from wall to wall. Slime gleams under fluorescent lights. The fat, moist, sometimes knobbly and occasionally fuzzy tentacle creatures squirm, coil and wriggle over and around each other, groping unpleasantly towards the nearest source of warmth. Cages and shackles hang by chains from ceiling winches. Some of the cages have been lowered entirely below the surface of the tentacles, and the squiggler activity in the area of those cages seems to be unusually lively.

“Horrid little creatures, aren’t they?” says Janet, and shudders. She’s leading Meg and Florence down a long length of catwalk towards a circular platform, raised a few feet above the morass. “Don’t fall in, whatever you do. I’ve heard some girls get trapped for years.”

“It’s very… impressive,” says Meg.

“Thanks!” Florence is walking behind her. “These are Sitri’s own special breed. Extra cuddly. I’ve been working on them for centuries. From this observation dais, you can get a really good look at how they squirm.”

“Um… not that they aren’t really cool, but…” Meg stares down at the gooey surface of the tentacles, both horrified and fascinated. “Why are we here?”

“Sitri really wanted us to take you here. Not sure why. We’ll head back out in a few minutes, after…” Florence glances back over her shoulder, at the catwalk, which has now disappeared. “Wait,” she says.

There’s a grinding sound, and the circular platform the three girls are standing on begins to sink.

“Wait wait wait what the fuck? Where’s the catwalk? That’s not supposed to happen! Janet! Do something?”

“What am I supposed to do?” The circular platform, mounted on a single metal pillar, is slowly retracting into the pit, bringing the tentacles closer with every passing second. Looking down, Meg can see them wriggling with excitement, reaching out towards the girls, grasping for the platform’s edge to try to drag it down faster. “Florence! This is your department! Isn’t there an emergency brake or something?”

“You’re the office manager! This is part of the office!”

“It’s a warehouse full of tentacles!”

“It’s a big office!”

“It’s the weight!” says Meg, as the platform creeps another agonising inch downward. “Janet, Florence, don’t you understand? We have to reduce our weight! Quick, throw everything you can off the platform?”

“Like what?”

“Like this!” Acting fast, not giving herself time to think, Meg whips off her yellow panties and chucks them to the tentacles, who immediately start coiling through them. She stands naked on the padded floor, sweaty skin gleaming, as the other two women stare at her with their mouths open. “Come on! We don’t have time!”

“But… but… fine!”

Florence’s lab coat flies to the tentacles, followed by her shoes and the sensible black blouse and slacks she wears underneath it. Janet is still staring.

“Surely,” she says, “you don’t mean that I, the office manager, should actually…”

“Get her!”

“Ahh!”