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The soft human that they had caught was unconscious in their grip. How you screamed when their tendrils had struck up from the ground, cooling around your arms and legs as the rest of the slave caravan ran away, leaving you as bait.
You were wearing tattered clothing, a slave collar marring your neck and your body looked malnourished.
You were was perfect for the tentacles' plan.
They were going to make you into their trusted slave, to send you out to the other monsters and collect their seed, that they would use to strengthen themselves.
And you would obey, they would make sure of it.
They easily break off the collar from your neck, removing the tattered clothing you wore and gently coil you in their tentacles, waiting for you to wake up from your exhausted slumber.
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