“Hyou arrrhe a vessel creature, arrrhen’t you?” says the sandtrap, gently stroking your face. It seems the more excited it gets and the less it feels the need to pretend, the more fluttery and broken its voice becomes; it is like you are listening to a hive of bees that just happens to be forming words. “A cute little wwworker hasz fallen into my home, but I have no fertile eggsz to givve it. Wwwell, that isz ok. Hwwe can still have fun, can’t we?”
It makes a guttural noise, as if it were drawing fluids into its throat, and then draws you close. “Drink. It will make thingsz so much easier for hwyou if hwyou do.” The creature is not exactly giving you much choice in the matter. Packed tightly inside its sand and incapable of resisting, you steel yourself, close your eyes, and allow it to kiss you.