Holding his breath, he gathered the gall to peek out the porthole. Darkness. He moved closer, fogging the window with panicked exhalation. Blinking, he noticed the infantile sensation of soiling his pants, warm and sticky, molding smoothly between his flesh and underwear. As the fog cleared, his eyes focused; he saw the ribbing of a throat. The beast drifted backward. Teeth. She had several rows of teeth that seemed intelligently designed for grabbing,...