Then stop your thrashing, Hades. To fight will only make you more tired, and what's more, you need not move now.

[He sits up to look at him, though his legs are short and shifting his weight thus only serves to continue to pin him. Though at this angle, Hades can actually see something beginning to emerge from somewhere beneath the soft pouch of his stomach.]

[It's soft, though it seems to have an incredibly solid core. The head dribbles a clear fluid, oozing over his new length and against Hades' torso. The fabric is quickly becoming worse to have in its saturated state, perhaps.]

I shouldn't be long.