I'm looking for partner that would love to rp a symbiote 18+ with me, any genders are okay but i recommend female

I want to play an RP in which you play one of the symbiotes like in Marvel who wants to assimilate and infect the city, and it starts with me.

My kinks are: Possession, assimilation, parasites, symbiotes, hypnosis, identity death, mind changes.

https://preview.redd.it/yx6xmaiq47vc1.png?width=1192&format=png&auto=webp&s=99ca50bf4899b479dd1a467e32000d9d4cf8e9f6

Veronica’s eyes stubbornly tried to remain close despite what she felt. She felt tired, felt sore, felt…sexually relieved? And also used in that dirty sort of way? Like there was dried sweat all over her and something else, something that was previously slimy.

She smacked her lips on instinct and tasted something salty and bitter. Veronica brought a finger to her mouth and touched it, finding a small amount of a viscous white and gooey substance on…it…

“Huh?” she muttered dumbly, bringing her finger to her nose and smelling it. “Ugh!” she groaned initially, sniffing it again twice to find that it was somehow…semen?

No no, that was impossible! It had to be impossible, as what the hell was the alternative?! That she got violated in her sleep?!

“Foolish girl,” she could hear her mother chide lovingly, about to explain away the mysterious liquid in her mouth easily like always.

But it really did smell like semen, as it reminded Veronica of ammonia or maybe chlorine? One of those two with something sweet, almost stuffily so. She sniffed again, the wave of disgust flooding her mind being mixed with desire, unbidden and unwanted. Suddenly Veronica had the strangest of urges to just lick and clean it off her finger, the feeling like a foreign entity in her mind.

Scared, she hastily wiped her finger on her clothes and beelined her way to the bathroom once again, a common occurrence it seemed like lately. Being ever-efficient she took another daily shower to both wash away the dried sweat and other fluids while also chugging the cool water.

Not once did she notice that the semen-esque liquid she wiped off on herself multiplied temporarily as unidentified goo before disappearing without a trace on her clothing. Instead she hydrated herself like she was in the Sahara Desert, greedily gulping down every drop she could from the shower head like it was liquid gold.

Veronica, once she was done being thirsty, finished her shower and dried herself off as best as she could with two towels, one for her hair and the other for her “gift” of a body. Now feeling cleaner and more importantly drier, she picked up her amazing-feeling dirty clothing and stalked over to her room, throwing them to the hamper with some regret. She side-eyed her digital alarm clock and swore lightly in disbelief.

She was going to be late for intercepting her boss Santiago, who as she vividly recalled swindled her out of her money for the week for his daughter Stacy, who did “fuck all” at the company in Veroncia’s opinion. That’s not to say she hated Stacy, but she was seriously such a stereotype that she played with her dirty-blond hair, chewed whatever gum was popular (or cheapest), and at the same time endlessly consumed content from her feed when she was supposed to be working. She flirted with the staff (which made her popular with those naive boys who thought they were so special), she showed up whenever (if at all); she wasn’t annoying per se, she just unknowingly took something imperative from Veronica (her job security). But Veronica had a plan: As long as Stacy was at the company, then Veronica had an in with the boss. Underhanded it may be, if she befriended the boss’s daughter, stayed on her good side, and did a couple of favors then maybe…just maybe, she can convince Stacy to help out a fellow “friend.”

Veronica quirked an eyebrow at her weird rumination before shaking her head softly, the thought quickly forgotten as malicious and manipulative as she scoured her near-empty basket—correction, scoured her now empty basket for clothes to wear. It was like all the clothes that had been there priorly had been magicked away, lost to that pocket dimension where all the socks go in the dryer. The young woman turned around, perhaps resigning herself to wear her dirty clothes twice in a row, when she heard a slithering noise but more wet. She turned around quickly and saw nothing but a pair of clothes neatly folded at the foot of her bed.

“What?” Veronica asked dumbly, not believing it. She edged towards the clothing, finding that it not only looked/smelled clean, but it was in a style she liked: One suitably big white bra with a dark halter top, a thong, and a skirt that looked…reasonable in this weather due to its length. How it had gotten there when it wasn’t at the foot of the bed priorly was both alarming and worrying, but she didn’t have the time to figure it all out, so instead she got dressed.

And by god did she love these clothes too.

The thong made her feel sexy, the lacy material an intricate work of art depicting some sort of unknown flower. The bra hugged her heavy tits and made the weight disappear once again, letting her breathe a literal sigh of relief once more at not having the constant back pain. The halter top showed the bare minimum amount of cleavage necessary for her tastes, which she was thankful for. And as a great closer to all of this is that the skirt went down past her knees and did a good job in not accentuating her ass, as Veronica hated bringing attention like that to herself.

Veronica did a onceover and smiled a bit at her modesty, happy to hide her body. While it was better to be leered at than not desired at all it honestly did get tiring, always catching a guy at work or Santiago himself glancing down at her considerable straining bust or just knowing they were undressing her with their eyes as she walked away, her fat butt jiggling like jello like it always did.

She hated it, she hated her body, Veronica hated her “gifts” that always gave her trouble.

But never mind that. Veronica had a mission today, a purpose: With the weekend over, she had a “friend” to make.

*****

Veronica Nevin worked at a paper company. She sold different sizes of paper, both in width, height, thickness, and was good at what she did. Her voice had a bell-like quality to it, soothing to the ear and whenever she could muster the energy/courage, she was quite the charmer over the phone, outmatching many of her coworkers in one day than they could in several.

Of course this meant that Veronica Nevin’s colleagues could not care any less for her skills. No, instead they always wanted to just gawk and wolf-whistle at her. Sure, they acted friendly (and demeaning) when she entered the room that day, complimenting her on her outfit numerous times as they said approvingly that she was, “Finally accepting her beauty.”

The young woman rolled her eyes as she neared her desk, wondering why the boys in the office were so excited today over a modest outfit. She checked the side cubicle and found that Stacy was busy on her phone at her chair, as per usual, so with a plan in motion Veronica sat down at her desk and saw something odd. Her legs and her meaty thighs were showing quite a bit as her skirt was now several inches above the knee. Confused, Veronica tried pulling down her skirt over her knee and found that it was being pulled taut.

Veronica was in disbelief, words failing to articulate themselves in her mind coherently enough for several seconds as her brain rebooted like a ‘98 computer. She knew that the skirt was long enough, Veronica knew that.

And yet whenever she pulled down the stretchy material of her skirt, it snapped back into position of being above the knee. In fact…the more she tugged the shorter it got.

That…had to be impossible, that’s not how fabric works—

“V!” a pleading, bordering on an annoying voice called from the side cubicle, ignoring all office etiquette to get Veronica’s attention.

With a deep breath and forced attentiveness the young woman tilted her head to the outside to greet the boss’s daughter with similar (but much more toned down) energy, “Yeah, Stace?”

“You doing okay? I haven’t heard you making those clackity sounds on your keyboard at all to start the day,” the dirty-blond woman pointed out, her voice having an odd amount of concern in it, as if she cared.

Veronica paused, wondering how attentive Stacy secretly is when she wanted it to be known. Before the former could say something back she felt something touch her down there.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the sudden pleasure as she barely stopped herself from head-slamming against her desk, intaking a loud and very audible sharp intake of breath. Something was stimulating her…something was touching her goddamn clit and it felt so good.

It was a mixture of a suckle, a lick, and a circular motion all at once, if such a thing was possible. With a supreme act of willpower Veronica controlled her breathing, stood up, and dashed to the bathroom, not noticing two key things:

1. Her skirt was now so short that a blind man could see the uncovered ass cheeks clapping with every hurried step.
2. Her halter top’s cleavage was now so low that it bordered on lingerie, a deep valley of her bosom full on visible to any who dared look (and looked they did, as they bounced almost painfully).

Locking the stall door behind her, Veronica sat her plump ass on the toilet and moved aside her thong, seeing that while they were oddly bone-dry her pussy was drenched in its fluids.

What was happening to her? She felt so hot and that stuffy-sweet smell that came from that weird semen-like liquid she found earlier that day started surrounding her, started filling her nostrils.

She breathed it in and the smell invaded her brain, making her mewl in primal instinct. Veronica, despite the situation she was in, kinda liked the smell more than before, the disgust from earlier more muted.

Veronica, if she was more lucid at the moment, would swear she liked the smell just a little bit more. Just a little bit.

So after breathing out she breathed it back in, deeper this time.

The smell dulled her higher cognitive thoughts like the finest of wines, her eyes losing that spark of intellect. She sniffed the sweet stuffy smell once more as she began to play with her pussy through the fabric of her panties, hissing in pleasure when she felt how sensitive she was. Veronica couldn’t think anymore, only needing to feel that sweet release.

Weirdly enough, it was as if her clothes itself began to take on a life of their own. The mixture of a suckle and a lick came back full force and then some, making Veronica moan like a slut.

She should’ve felt embarrassed, she should’ve hated that she was fucking masturbating at work like some unrepentant slut, but at the moment she didn’t care, only the need to be dicked down by someone and be bred on her mind.

*****

It was, as the humans say, in heaven. It was able to tease the pathetic competition at his host’s place of work to a mindless degree, getting them all jealous and wanting, wanting what would never, could never be theirs. Only Its.

But speaking of mindless…

Its host…Veronica was in ecstasy, showing that the concoction based off of her specific genetics and neural pathways was a partial success, as it only worked in large amounts.

Yet again, that would not do.

If It wanted Veronica to be normal then It allowed her (like earlier this Earthen cycle).

If It wanted Veronica to be ready for breeding and be a “mindless little fucktoy” then It willed her (like now this very instance).

However, before It could “rape” Its host, someone else came into the room. This normally wouldn’t be a problem, as the pheromones It was emitting would be disagreeable to most members of the same sex, causing them to leave as it would smell “awful” to them.

The human that came into this “bathroom” was a member of the opposite sex, which It knew because of the heavy amount of testosterone coming off of him in droves. It didn’t know how the pheromones it produced from Veronica’s “clothing” would react with a male of her species, so It analyzed the situation while Its host was distracted. It knew that a male shouldn’t be in this “bathroom,” that the males and females of this species had come to a “universal agreement” to segregate the sexes. The unknown male…the unknown man began breathing heavily as It heard the sound of jeans hitting the floor and the smell of testosterone, adrenaline and sweat invaded the room, making Veronica…

No.

No no no no no no no no.

Veronica was reacting to the man’s concoction of pheromones to a disappointing degree, moaning a decibel higher when her brain registered the human source of pleasure. It felt rage within itself, felt betrayal and hostility in a way that was almost “alien” to Its own species. It thought their host wouldn’t do something like this, thought that with everything It was obviously doing for her would be enough.

Apparently not, so It would need to train her better then, to respect It and listen but now?

Now it needed to remove the threat.

It easily convinced the various minds inhabiting Itself to stop making Veronica so “happy,” shifting her undergarments…her thong into a dual-headed tentacle. On one side it easily penetrated her, reminding her of Its poorly-hidden existence for a second before pulling out, all the while making her moan whorishly in pleasure. Simultaneously on the other side the tentacle raced out of the stall and observed the scene before It, multitasking easily as a multi-mind organism.

It monitored…It saw that the man was making himself “happy” by doing manual stimulation to his penis…by “jerking himself off.” The man looked scared and shocked once he noticed It before the tentacle grasped his penis and snapped it like a twig.

He howled in pain, rousing Veronica out of her “happiness” due to her brain using its natural reserves of adrenaline to “sober her up.”

*****

Veronica came out of her trance…her “high” (as it were) slowly. Her head felt fuzzy and she barely registered her own hand touching it, a very distant part of her feeling like her words would become circumlocutory…would become too long and unneeded for some reason.

How odd, especially this weird feeling of obedience coming from…somewhere. Towards something (or someone?) but it wasn’t obvious at first, as her eyes were still blurry. This “obedience” felt like an invasive species, the feeling as foreign as a new organ trying to pretend it belonged.

“Focus, focus,” she mentally chanted within her mind, bringing herself back to reality to find that she was in a bathroom stall and that a tentacle was sprouting out the front of her panties. It was of considerable length, seeing as how it left through the stall door towards something on the floor, and of considerable thickness, being roughly the same as a thin cucumber.

The tentacle started to retract back into itself and, before Veronica could protest or squawk in fear of it, the tentacle noticed her. Simultaneously the obedience feeling dissipated like tears in the rain but she paid it no mind, as this was much more important. The tentacle paused in its movements, almost as if it was thinking, before it gestured to the outside thing on the floor. It then bent into itself, lightly jabbing at itself in a manner similar to a man saying “I did that.”

The tentacle disappeared soon after into her panties, leaving her semi-alone…or at least, Veronica thought she was kind of alone before she heard the crying sobs of a man in the women’s bathroom. The young woman fixed her clothing first and foremost, not quite remembering what happened to her right after she realized she was having an accidental wardrobe malfunction.

How odd again.

She checked out the crying man outside her stall and found that the man, who could’ve had a pathetic excuse of why he was in the women’s bathroom, was probably a pervert. Scratch that he had to be, since his pants and underwear were around his mid-thighs with his penis…glistening in precum and bent at the wrong angle?

Due to a genetic “blessing” from birth as her doctor tried to convince her (Veronica thought it was more of a curse), her brain made connections to the very recent events happening around her, coming to the conclusion that maybe the tentacle thing saved her?

All of this was very confusing to “Miss Nevin” (as the less pervy, respectful and younger co-workers called her), so she decided to just…leave. Just leave.

Maybe not the smartest decision, but it’s not like anyone was concerned about her existence besides sex appeal, right?

*****

The drive home should’ve been eventful. Something should’ve happened.

But nothing did, so Veronica walked through the side door of her inherited house, pondering on what to do now in the safety of her abode.

“Fuck it,” she eloquently thought, throwing caution to the wind. “Um, hello? Mister…miss…you, the tentacle thing?” Veronica asked the empty air, hearing nothing before her shirt sprouted a long tentacle from the left shoulder blade, the tentacle tip a respectable and safe distance away from her. “Who…what are…how…why are you in my clothes?” she eventually settled on, awaiting an answer.

It did not answer at first, just “staring” at her “blankly” before the tentacle bobbed up and down in a nodding fashion.

“Are you intelligent?” Veronica asked bluntly, getting a nod back. “Do you need clothes to survive?” she asked next, remembering some half-remembered game/comic book lore.

Another nod.

“Good to know. So, I’m wearing you?” she asked an important question.

Another nod, this one seeming to be a bit faster and more enthusiastic than the other nods.

“And you saved me from that pervy guy?” Veronica questioned, wondering if her life was about to become a lot more interesting from its answer.

This time the nod was a bit more stiff, seemed a bit more hostile, and the young woman noticed the slight change in movement, her brain accustomed to seeing patterns.

“Are you like my protector now?”

It paused, not answering for a second before nodding eagerly.

“Wow…that’s…well, we need to iron out whatever this,” Veronica gestured to herself and the tentacle, “situation is. But thank you,” she said sincerely with a smile. “Do you want a reward or something?” she asked innocently. “I may have some ice cream. Wait, what do you eat? Do you even eat? Would you like ice cream at all?” she rapid-fired questions, the last being especially important to her.

The tentacle then nodded happily before getting real close to Veronica’s face, though it loomed over her like a larger man who knew how tall he was. Again, due to her “blessing,” her brain connected this kind of behavior like the knights of old.

A valiant, tall knight who had saved the fair maiden from the dragon.

Or in Veronica’s perceived case:

A valiant, tall tentacle who had saved her from a pervert who could’ve done God knows what.

In the former, the knight would ask for naught but a kiss.

Maybe the tentacle was asking the same?

It would be a little gross, but Veronica did owe it now. With a fraction of uncomfortableness in her gut, with a feeling of excitement in her head, she leaned in and initially gave a chaste kiss to the tip of the tentacle. It seemed to lean into it, so she extended the kiss a bit longer.

The tentacle pushed harshly against her plump lips and forced its way down her mouth, causing her gag reflex to kick in. Unfortunately for Veronica, this allowed the tentacle to further go down her mouth and into her throat.

She freaked out and yanked the offending tentacle out of her mouth, sputtering in fear, horror, and utter surprise.

“What the hell?!” Veronica yelled in protest, glaring at the tentacle with glistening wet eyes before she felt it.

Lust. Unbridled, uncontrollable, unchecked lust. And underneath that unrelenting undercurrent was obedience, much like before earlier in the work bathroom. But just like then Veronica wasn’t the one feeling these feelings, in fact the one thing she felt most acutely was self-preservation against this…creature.

These feelings, this lust and obedience were foreign, like it was coming from someone (or something?) else. It felt as foreign as a new organ trying to pretend it belonged…

And it was succeeding.

Veronica’s eyes widened as she realized the implications of the event before the tentacle lunged at her, knocking her over to the hard uncomfortable floor. She tried keeping it out, she really tried her best to save herself from her worst nightmare heightened to an unprecedented degree, but she was helpless against its superior strength as it violated her tight throat once more. No matter how much she pulled at the tentacle, it wouldn’t leave her mouth at all.

Being so distracted was Veronica’s downfall, as her halter top, her bra, her skirt, and her thong all transformed into a writing mass of tentacles that began to molest her all over in her stupidity.

One set of tentacles wrapped tightly around her tits and latched on like newborns to her nipples, suckling and pulling roughly at them, almost as if they were demanding sustenance. Another set of tentacles wrapped around her birthing hips and huge ass, squeezing as if it was a prized possession to make “love” to. And one tentacle, which happened to be bigger, ribbed and phallic-shaped, raped her pussy which was now slick from its natural sliminess.

All of these different feelings overwhelmed Veronica, especially the feelings coming from the tentacles itself, those being sexual enjoyment, excitement, pleasure, and ecstasy. The lines of what were her feelings and (forced) pleasure and its feelings and pleasure began to blur to the point that Veronica Nevin was unsure if she was actually starting to enjoy this whole fucked up situation.

That thought both scared and pushed her over the edge as she came, her pussy automatically clenching, squeezing, and milking the tentacle so much that it itself came, creampieing deep within her and triggering another orgasm for her feeling the hot cum fill her womb.

Veronica was so overwhelmed by the feeling of everything that she didn’t notice a black leather collar form over her neck tightly, one with no lock, one with no seams.

One with no escape.

*****

First chapter.

Previous chapter.

Veronica, after the initial shock of all her clothes fitting her wore off, decided to be the grown up she was by turning off her blaring music and called the local power company. As the call connected she paced around her dining room table, which was made of spruce and had seen a lot of dings and bruises from her childhood.

She smiled as she remembered talking and hanging out with her friends growing up, all those nights spent doing stupid stuff at the table; like trying to chug a full bottle of forgotten whiskey from the liquor cabinet, or discussing their dream meal from various fast food places.

A man on the other line spoke up and Veronica absentmindedly went through the motions of reconnecting the power to her house by paying off her credit card debt using her emergency funds, more distracted by fond memories of yesteryear.

Once the call was completed she waited an hour or two for the electric guys (she never knew what they were officially called) to come over and restore power to the house. After a bunch of bureaucracy and deliberation they simply just flipped a switch on a power pole and, like magic, all her lights that she foolishly left on the night before turned on.

With a sigh of relief that some things were going her way now, Veronica once again forgot to turn off said lights and instead checked her now powered fridge, finding that she had a pittance of food left.

Eggs in the top left corner, leftover white rice from that Chinese place she called occasionally, and one bacon slice…?

”Ooooh,” Veronica hummed internally as she nabbed all three, throwing them together in a pan and cooking them with soy sauce and MSG to create some perfect fried rice. She ate it with gusto, a little more peckish than the norm around this time and oddly more thirsty after she finished.

She grasped her throat in discomfort, surprised she was like this after having a simple meal. Veronica guessed that today was going to be full of surprises, both good (like with her clothing) and bad (like waiting an hour for the power to be restored).

Veronica got some water from the faucet and chugged it, thinking over a mental checklist in her head of what she needed to do the next day; that being go food shopping, make a call to work and use some (underhanded) tactics to get her pay for the week, then maybe relax with some…fun under the sheets by herself to unwind?

Who was she kidding? She was horny as all hell and needed relief right now. The constant stimulation to her nipples from her bra (Veronica really didn’t want to take it off due to its seemingly magical weight-removing properties) and the fact her pussy kept…tingling?

Tingling, yes, it kept tingling as if something was just moving around down there.

The young woman heaved a sigh and facepalmed, wondering why she was imagining things yet again. She scoffed as her mind played a perfect recreation of her mother’s voice, insistence laid thick in the tone that it was all in her head yet again and that she needed to take…

Her meds!

Veronica’s eyes bugged out as soon she remembered that she forgot to take her ever-important medication! She scraped her chair against the floor as she dashed to the medicine cabinet in her bathroom, the room still slightly steamy when she entered. She opened the bottles with mechanical precision (just like her mother taught her) and took them dry, closing the cabinet door and staring at her reflection.

A reflection of her about to be attacked by tentacles. They were behind her, just wiggling to and fro menacingly; ready to entrap, to ensnare, to encircle her body with its wickedness.

Veronica turned around to stop the attack, or at least go down fighting, when there was nothing.

Nothing but air, nothing but silence, nothing but the sound of her own panicked breathing.

Veronica’s mouth moved to say something, anything, but no words came out in her shell-shock. She grasped her head, closed her eyes, and took deep breaths to calm herself.

When her breathing exercise was done she felt slightly sapped of energy, so a bit slowly she looked at her reflection once more and saw that it was just her in the bathroom, as it should be.

When she confirmed to herself that she was safe Veronica felt tired, so even more slowly than before she walked over to her bed, wondering how the meds were kicking in so fast and what was happening to her.

When she got under the lush covers she felt groggy and confused, even though it was only the evening. Veronica tried closing her eyes, which seemed ready to spring shut, but they stubbornly remained passively open, occasionally blinking as she fell into what she thought was a blissful dream.

And when she would awake the next morning?

Veronica would question her very sanity.

*****

The plan worked, as Its host was finally in a semi-conscious state due to the drugs it was slowly but steadily pumping into her bloodstream/brain through her unblemished skin. It had timed it perfectly when those foreign drugs entered her system through her oral cavity…her mouth.

She was beautiful but didn’t announce it every time she walked into a room. She was knowledgeable of sex but not depraved like her conquests or “exes,” as she called it. She had thoughts and aspirations to be more than her sex, to be more than a “walking talking fleshlight” as she so despised being called by one of her more “toxic” conquests.

It would have fun breaking her, to cement into her head that she was not in control of this…symbiosis, this parasitism; but first It needed to distract her more. It has been waiting a long time to do this…

With the smallest of thoughts the bra surrounding the host’s…surrounding Veronica’s sizable mammaries…her large and juicy tits changed. It was like watching an Earthen sapling grow, all because It was weak from its trip to this enclosure, to its new home.

The fabric of the dark blue bra began to sprout an uncountable number of bumps the same shade of It, before it then grew slowly into small writhing tentacles that began to lick and suck and pull on every inch of skin it could. It squeezed the flesh of her gigantic and succulent tits hungrily with wild abandonment and want, the need to feel more of Veronica filling one of the minds within the unknown creature.

Veronica couldn’t stir awake, couldn’t protest, couldn’t give any consent, approval, or obstinate denial; and even if she could, It wouldn’t have cared one bit, for it was starving for a proper meal to satiate Its lust and gluttony.

The rest of her clothing began shifting one after another, first with her shirt, then her pants, and then finally…

One quick lick from one of the numerous tentacles surrounding her pussy was all that it took to get It convinced that It had chosen well in its own current conquests, the small slimy and slick tentacles desperately trying their best to push further past her wet folds. Instinctively her pussy tried to grasp the offending tentacles before they could go any further, keeping back the weak intrusions.

This would not do.

It focused just a tad bit more to the numerous tentacles centered around her pussy to congeal them together into one singular phallic-shaped object. Initially it wasn’t good enough in Its opinion, a bit too misshapen. With another thought it remolded it until the tentacle was just the right size for deep penetration and maximum pleasure, for both It and Veronica.

It may be somewhat selfish but It had pride, and if the host wasn’t happy with the forced carnal pleasure (at least somewhat) then it was surely failing as a member of Its species.

With that thought out of the way It forced itself inside of Veronica in one singular thrust, momentarily shocking her out of her semi-conscious state before It exerted its will and coerced her back under just enough to enjoy the experience but not remember.

…at least, not completely remember.

The specially-made penis-tipped tentacle pushed in and out of Veronica’s pussy with ease, the natural lubrication of the slimy appendage and Veronica’s vaginal juices mixing together in such a loud, vulgar way that it would’ve made her blush—had she been awake that is.

The inner muscles squeezed and milked it for pleasure like the “good girl” It knew Veronica would one day be, willingly or not; so It decided to reward her with even more animalistic pleasure. The clothes that were previously molesting her body with such energy, enthusiasm, and exhilaration stopped temporarily. The clothes melted down into Itself and became a small mass of the unidentified goo that slowly began to encroach on what was Its, covering Veronica with Itself until every inch of skin was gone from sight.

Now in a living fleshy cocoon of Its own making (or maybe a suit would be more apt?), It rewarded Veronica by pleasuring her all over. The nape of her neck, behind her ears, her nipples/areolas…nothing was spared from the wriggling tentacles that now encased her. Her moans were such a divine ambrosia to Its senses that It vowed to never let her go, to never let her escape, to never stop making her feel pleasure…no, to never stop making her “happy” as the human…as Veronica would describe it.

Yes, It was making Veronica “happy.” Was that such a wrong thing? To want Its host to be “happy 24/7” of every Earthen cycle for the rest of her now massively elongated lifespan?

It couldn’t ponder any further as it finally and painstakingly reached Its climax. It knew it had to end this on a high note for the both of them, so without another thought the tentacle that was “raping” her (Was it really rape if she would eventually enjoy it?) hilted until it was resting against the entrance of her cervix before releasing the sticky, thick, hot and white semen deep within her, coating her womb until it was nearly unrecognizable with all the creamy cum settling and dripping inside.

It took pride for a job well done for a couple of minutes, admiring the beauty before It did what it was made to do. With a supreme amount of willpower and foreknowledge, It shrunk the offending tentacle inside of her tight pussy until it was the size of a human pinky. The tentacle managed to worm its way inside Veronica’s full womb and reabsorbed every last precious drop of Itself, converting the semen into more of the unidentified goo.

With great sadness It began to revert all the fun It was having, taking Veronica out of the flesh cocoon she was unknowingly trapped in, but not before taking advantage of her vulnerable state and using her mouth/throat to clean off the tentacle that was soaked in both their fluids of course. It then changed back into the “clothing” Veronica thought she was wearing and, after copping another feel of her sizable breasts, shot out a string of goo towards where Its host kept all of her clothing, both in the overflowing “hamper” and the nearly-empty “basket.”

As It went into comfortable hibernation…as It “slept,” it felt a “great weight lift from Its shoulders” (as the humans say) in the thought that it was finally spreading/infecting the rest of Veronica’s clothing, meaning they would always be together—

No matter what she wanted.

*****

• First chapter.

They cut the power to her house.

It wasn’t even her fault this time! Veronica didn’t get paid because of (what else?) nepotism and the boss saying that he had good lawyers; and no one was hiring so…

Excuses, that’s what it sounded like. Veronica was making excuses yet again and trying to lie to herself.

She was hot, sweaty, and irritable because of the aforementioned and all she wanted right now was a nice, cool shower to forget her recent problems.

Veronica went into her room and took for granted her king-sized bed that her parents used to use when they were alive. She grabbed the most breathable clothing she had stashed away in her near empty basket, which happened to be a somewhat stretchy red T-shirt of an artist she adored, a mismatching bra and panties that looked to be a bit too tight unfortunately, and some jeans that she could maybe squeeze into.

After collecting them Veronica made the trek through her inherited house to arrive shortly at her bathroom, which was as pristine as she had left it. The toilet was sparkling, the tiles were freshly mopped, and the two windows were both open to allow in the lingering summer heat to pass through.

While the cicadas buzzed incessantly, the young woman lazily tossed her fresh clothes onto the toilet lid, not sparing a second glance at its position and orientation. No, instead Veronica looked to herself in the mirror and scowled at her features, as per usual. Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of her sweat-stained tank top that she wore, the bra clasps in the back digging almost painfully into her skin to support the weight in front. Her stomach showed just the barest hint of belly fat that stubbornly refused to go away, no matter how much she tried all those keto diets and starving herself, and her pale thighs and ass looked as if they were straining against her midnight black leggings that were only a few years old.

She sighed in defeat on her “gifts” as she took off her top, undid the clasps on her back, and then let her tits bounce out, the all too familiar relief flooding her mind. Veronica took out her phone, selected her favorite genre of music to blast loudly before placing it aside on the sink counter. After stripping off her leggings and her basic pink panties and letting them fall to the floor, she stepped into her cool bathtub. She turned the knob and let the cool water flow over her skin, not once noticing that something was amiss.

If she had not turned up her music all the way to hear over the crashing sounds of the flowing water, she would’ve heard It.

If she had not damaged her eardrums all throughout her life by listening to music at dangerous levels, she would’ve heard It.

And if she had not left the other window open and so defenseless, where a small slithering mass of unidentifiable goo could slip in and meld with her fresh clothing sitting on the toilet lid, becoming indistinguishable from the original?

She would’ve heard It and she would’ve ran as far as possible, never once looking back at the monster she’d unknowingly be bringing into her life.

But not once did she notice something was amiss.

*****

Veronica Nevin turned the knob of the shower to its off position, letting the water that was flowing freely over her head dribble into nothingness.

She waited until it ebbed and dripped weakly, wishing the shower could’ve last maybe five minutes more to stave off the responsibility of the most dreaded thing of all:

Life commitments.

Yes indeed, Veronica needed to do several things, but the most important of which was to call the power company. After drying herself off and then putting a spare towel around her long wet auburn hair, she prepared herself to wrestle on her clothing for a couple of minutes, knowing that—

That’s odd. It just slipped on, like it fit perfectly? No, perfectly implies that she was competent enough to have bought clothing that actually fit her “blessed” features. No, she’d never have found a place that had perfect clothing for her and thus always wore something that didn’t quite fit.

But it did fit! Perfectly, like a damn glove! As she put on her panties and then her jeans she felt as if they expanded further than they should’ve, as if they were trying their best to make her comfortable in her own skin. It was a pleasant surprise to have most of her clothing fit, but as all good things were, she had to put on her bra that…

That fits…

That should be impossible.

Buying bras (and clothing in general) for herself was always difficult, especially after her mom died and forgot to tell her the secrets of picking out the right number. So most of the clothing didn’t fit in that “too small” way, as if they were too big then they didn’t provide enough support.

But as Veronica put on her gigantic bra she found that not only did it fit, it felt as if the weight from her breasts vanished.

The young woman swayed from side to side hesitantly after realizing this apparent fact, finding that she was lighter than she had ever felt in years. An incredulous grin started forming slowly as she did a small jump, one that should’ve made her feel her breasts slam against her body.

But it didn’t!

She stretched her back and heard several pops and cracks and a sigh of relief overtake her in the best of ways. After relishing the newfound freedom she grasped the front of her bra (and thus her gigantic tits) and began massaging them lightly, saying appreciatively to the former, “I’m keeping you.” Weirdly after she said it she felt the fabric that clung all over her body shifting slightly by what must’ve been coincidental. It did so in such a way that made her feel hot.

Veronica’s eyes widened as she gasped lightly in sudden pleasure, not expecting the impromptu spike of arousal. It oddly felt better than normal, as if someone else had caused it, but that was impossible of course. Most interestingly enough, every time she took in a breath of air Veronica could’ve sworn her nipples were being…stimulated, as if the bra itself was loose enough to cause it somehow move lightly over the sensitive nubs; but that too was impossible, as the bra fit perfectly.

She must’ve been imagining it.

*****

• Next chapter.

It would be cool to see a story of a living suit/clothes that eventually takes over the whole house like the furniture and carpet and stuff like that. So when ever the person or people living in the house come in their living clothes “come off” either go in hiding at the base of their neck or inside them in some way, or come off at the door. But the whole house is living now so they are still getting the same pleasure that they get from the clothes just now it’s their chairs, couch, beds, carpet the whole house. But if they decide to go back outside then their clothes reattach to them and then they go out with their living clothes on there truly is no escape at all. If anyone could make this into a comic that would be amazing!

Hello again!

I've managed to write up some of your writing prompts from the previous thread!(https://www.reddit.com/r/biosuits/comments/1bmteih/open_for_ideas/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3)

I hope everyone can enjoy them. Let me know your favourites!

***

Kothallupinthisbitch - Mimic Aboard

Jess was sure that the mimic had got to her other crewmates. The radio buzzed, the lifesigns on the monitor went dark, and no longer could she hear the telltale sound of footsteps across the ship. She pulled her pistol close. It was just her and the mimic, or she thought.

Turning down another corridor in the dim purple light of the emergency system, Jess kept her eyes ahead, knowing that the mimic would likely sneak up on her. She wanted it to, as it was the only way she might be able to kill it. Just as she made her way into the canteen however, she spotted a shadow leaping into a dark corner.

“*Who’s there?”* Jess called out.

But there was no response, only the creaking of the ship’s hull, and wail of distant alarms. Making her way between the tables, Jess looked at the unfinished meals on trays strewn across the place. People had barely had the time to react. The mimic worked fast. Again Jess spied a writhing shadow creeping behind a counter.

“*Come out!”* she shouted in frustration.

Then came a familiar voice.

“*Jess! Relax! It’s me!”*

From the kitchen came Kevin, his hands up in the air.

“*Don’t you fucking move!”* Jess ordered.

Kevin froze.

“*This whole thing, it’s not what you think,”* he said calmly.

But Jess wasn’t about to trust this thing that looked like Kevin.

“*The mimic wants you to know that no one is in danger,”* he went on.

Inching closer and closer, Jess didn’t listen to the poisonous words she was sure were bullshit.

“*It’s just using me for a little while,”* Kevin said, his hands on his belt, “*to reproduce.”*

With that, Kevin tore off his trousers, revealing a black ooze coursing around his groin. Jess looked on in horror as the mimic formed a huge, pulsating mass in the shape of a cock, right where Kevin’s own should be.

“*It’ll be fun, I promise.”*

***

Kothallupinthisbitch - New Gear for the 8th

Finally, the new suits had been shipped, and 8th Company were about to get them. Despite the delays, the Captain said that they were well worth the wait.

“When you put these organics on, you won’t want to take them off,” he announced to the troop.

Leo was just glad they didn’t have to wear the crummy ceramic plate any more. They were desperately uncomfortable, despite the protection they provide. When Leo was at last issued his new suit, he looked at it for a while, intrigued by its lightweight, yet tough design. His squadmates had already started wearing them around the barracks, seemingly very pleased with their new gear.

“*You have to try this, Leo,”* said Henry, quivering as he did.

Though they seemed to have the whole company acting strangely, Leo stepped into his own suit, pulling it up so it fit snugly around his body. Right when he put on the helmet, Leo could feel it, a kind of vibration coursing across the surface of his skin. Leo thought it might be part of the calibration process, but as time went on, the feeling only became more intense. He looked around again at his squadmates. Every one of them was leant up against the wall of the barracks, or lying on their bed, all dressed in their new suits. It wasn’t long before the moans began. First they were muffled or stifled by a hand, yet soon enough they were uncontrollable. The suits were taking control of their wearers, meting out pure pleasure. Leo’s own suit had begun to press on his prostate, a soft tendril hooking upwards in his ass, applying just enough pressure to make his cock hard. Leo panicked, thinking that soon he would be in the throes of an endless orgasm, as many of his squadmates already were. He tried with all his might to tear off the suit, clawing at it over and over. But it was too late. Leo fell backwards, the suit cushioning the blow. The suit had him, and he could not help but smile.

***

LuxireWorse - Just Two Friends

“So, how’s work?”

To most onlookers, it appeared as if two women were having a normal conversation over a coffee. On closer inspection however, it was easy to see there was something different about how Diane and Sarah acted, and it was nothing to do with the man they had bent double under table between them. When her sub began to moan beneath her, Sarah kicked him hard.

“*Quiet!”* she ordered.

The nameless sub immediately went silent, feeling the point of Sarah’s heel on his exposed back.

“*So inconsiderate,”* Diane commented, petting her own sub she was sat on.

“*Humans are easily commanded, but they are terrible listeners,”* said a voice emanating from Sarah, her matte-black top bubbling and vibrating with the sound.

“*Agreed, though it is a joy to see them so servile,”* came yet another voice rippling from Diane’s onyx-black hair.

The two women long ago had agreed to host the symbiote, giving them unique ways to ply their trade as dominatrices. With a simple merge of consciousness, they could even invade the minds of their subs, and control them with unmatched precision. It was a service that many paid top dollar for, and Diane and Sarah were loving their new success.

“*Have you found any to permanently host our friend?”* Diane asked.

Sarah draped her leg around her sub beneath the table, snaking around his neck.

“*I have one who seems willing, but he won’t pay for it,”* Sarah replied, taking out her frustration by choking her sub just a little.  

If he complained, she thought, she would just have the symbiote invade his mind.

“*Shame, I have quite few now contained within the symbiote entirely,”* Diane said, stifling a giggle.

It proved to be infectious laughter and soon enough the two women were giggling uncontrollably. They had been chosen early by the symbiote, and now they were enjoying the benefits.

***

MilodicMellodi - Magic Dildo

How the dildo had appeared in her room, Aoife wasn’t sure. But the more she looked at it, the more here vulva ached to be touched. It had been some time since she had truly relaxed, and now, after a lull in her normally adventurous life, she was about to spoil herself. So Aoife positioned herself comfortably on the bed, stripped down to her candy pink underwear, and took up the dildo on the bedside table. It was warm somehow, and almost glowing, radiating a dim purple light. Aoife couldn’t help but be mesmerised by its pulsating pattern. What followed was a steamy session of self-exploration, at times rough but mostly smooth, with Aoife stroking her hard nipples as she thrust the dildo ever deeper between her wet labia. When at last the pleasure of orgasm overcame her, Aoife felt her strength leave her almost immediately, her head falling back onto the pillow, and a deep sleep weighing heavily on her eyelids.

After a heavy, dreamless sleep, Aoife awoke hours later with a jolt. What she saw as her bleary eyes opened was not her room however, but a thick bubble of pearlescent fluid all around her. She could even feel it flow inside her mouth, that warm and sticky substance that enveloped her totally. Yet, to Aoife’s surprise, she could still breathe. She could even move around, albeit slowly, the surface of the bubble ripping as she did. While Aoife moved, she could feel every part of her vibrate, every hair that stood on end. It had to be some bizarre enchantment, Aoife thought to herself. Then she remember the unusual dildo she had used last night. It had disappeared from the bed. Feeling rather stupid, Aoife considered the ways she might dispel the magic bubble that surrounded her. It was pleasurable yes, but highly impractical. Then, all of sudden, the bubble began to shrink, as if it were reacting to Aoife’s thoughts. Before long it snapped right onto her skin, its surface forming a kind of intricate armour, covering her naked body. Frozen with fear, Aoife could not help but watch as the once gooey liquid set hard on her body, transforming into a whole protective layer that was warm to the touch.

***

faultyandroid - Escape from RE-LIVE

Owen was at rock bottom when he signed himself up to be a test subject at RE-LIVE, barely able to shuffle through the gleaming lobby and scrawl his name upon a piece of paper. He wasn’t sure if he had passed out from the alcohol or whatever else he had crammed in his mouth that day, but when he awoke he found himself in a long chair, restrained by metal clasps around his wrists and ankles.

“*Okay Mr. Floud? Floyd? It doesn’t matter,”* a distorted voice said.

Owen struggled, unwilling to be the plaything of whatever person had put him in the chair.

“*We’re just going to measure your responses as you recover from your operation, so don’t worry if you feel a little… odd,”* the voice continued.

With that the restrains unlocked, and Owen sprang up from the seat, eager to escape as soon as he could. His head was killing him, but not any more than he was used to. Before long, he found a door in the darkness, and began bashing against it as hard as he could, hollering as he did.

“*Please, Mr. Floyd, this will all be easier if you calm down,”* the voice chimed in again.

It was then Owen felt his fingertips spark, as if some new energy was coursing through him.

“*Owen, now don’t panic,”* muttered something in Owen’s head.

He had heard inner voices before, but this was something different entirely.

“*I know it’s a lot to take in, but I’ve been implanted in your brain.”*

Scared that he was finally losing his mind, Owen charged at the door, hoping that he might sail right through. But the door easily repelled him, throwing him painfully to the floor.

*“We’re not going to get out that way, Owen, we need to wait for an opportunity, now I need you to trust me!”*

Owen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was almost glad when the sleeping gas was pumped into the room, sending him again into a dreamless sleep.

***

PM_ME_SEXY_BIKINIS - Power Girl's Last Battle

Power Girl was exhausted. She had used every one of her abilities to get the upper hand in the battle with the Space Slime, yet nothing she did had even the slightest effect. Though she struggled on, she knew the Slime might best her. Shooting beam after beam of focussed energy at the slime she cut through its oozing azure body. But however she might sever parts of the blob from the whole, it always managed to reconstitute itself, creeping ever closer, and cornering her. Power Girl could sense that it was poised to consume her, but still she fought on, landing blows that would pulverise the strongest opponents. Yet her strength was leaving her. She could no longer get away, feeling globs of slime starting to coat her body. It was dragging her inside, ever so slowly, opening up so it could envelop her totally. Soon enough, it had her contained right in its gooey centre, trying its utmost to digest the super meal it had trapped.

Beating against the oozing walls of her prison over and over, Power Girl managed to make little headway. The slime too had little success in digesting the superhero’s tough body, only managing to burn her eyes a little. So the two were an an impasse, endlessly fighting one another. It was only when Power Girl felt her own energy begin to dwindle that she worried she might lose against the slime. Little by little, the slime dissolved her, breaking through her normally impervious skin and melting her hair a strand at a time. Power Girl hoped against hope some other hero might come and save her, but as her torso began to bubble and her skin fizzed up, she knew she was utterly at the slime’s mercy.

***

commandantBuckwheat - The Secrets of the Metris

Aida had been working deep within the ruins for some time, having sent the rest of the team home for the day. Over the course of the expedition, they had come no closer to unlocking the mysteries of the Metris pyramid. But Aida knew she could not return home without something, her career depended on it. She was on thin ice with the faculty after all. They had barely approved this expedition and would never fund another. Most thought that the ruins were empty. Little did Aida know, she was about to prove them wrong.

Brushing away another layer of dirt, Aida’s eyes caught sight of something wedged beneath a scarlet flagstone. It appeared to her as some sort of plate, adorned with all manner of exotic symbols. As she lifted it up, however, for a closer look, the whole chamber began to shake. Aida jumped to her feet, convinced that the whole place was about to collapse. But, much to her surprise, the quaking stopped, and the room was bathed in a light of many colours. Aida was entranced. Never had she expected to see something so beautiful emanate from the dull ruins. The light then seemed to focus, creating six lifelike holograms in a circle around her. Aida couldn’t believe her eyes. Surrounding her were the most intricate depictions of Metrian armours, each one a marvel of form and function. Aida reached out to touch one of the suits when she heard someone stepping into the chamber.

“*How good of you, Dr. Yana, to provide us with this spectacular archaeotech!*”

It was a voice you knew well, the dulcet tones of the director of the faculty himself, Dr. Ladon.

“*I’ll be taking these suit, Doctor, and I trust you won’t protest?*” he went on in his imperious way.

Aida knew then she had to do something fast. She leapt in the direction of a holographic suit, praying that the armoury still somehow functioned. But nothing happened, save the hologram flickering. Ladon was clapping mockingly.

“*A shame indeed, I was rather hoping it would work too,”* he commented, peering down his nose at Aida.

Just then, the room shook again. From where the hologram once shone came a plinth rising up from far below. On top, Aida could see the suit, now just as real as her. Without hesitation, she jumped to it, feeling the suit clasp around her, adjusting in size to accommodate her. Encased now in the armour, she faced Dr. Ladon, a smirk still on his face.

“*I wouldn’t mess with that, Aida, after all it’s an antique!”* he said, chuckling to himself as he did.

Aida wasn’t going to let him out of the ruins unharmed. She thrust her hand toward the director, thinking that something might trigger. Yet nothing happened.

“*See? It’s as useless as you, Aida!”* Ladon carried on.

Then, Aida yelped in pain. Something was thrust upward from nape of her neck, piercing her brain stem. Though she could not see it, Ladon’s eyes widened. A crystal, glowing red, had pushed into Aida’s skull. Now, she could feel a power coursing through her, a psychic energy pulsating from her eyes.

“*Now Ladon,”* Aida said menacingly, “*let’s see what’s in that mind of yours.”*

***

MeiMeiSiss - Gary's Girl

Gary thought that his girlfriend Tina had lost it when she presented to him a pair of lacy pink panties to wear. They’d been exploring each other’s wants and desires in an attempt to spice things up a bit. But Gary wasn’t ready for what Tina had in mind.

“*Go on, put them on!”* Tina giggled.

Gary sighed. He knew that if he didn’t do what Tina wanted then she would be upset. After all, he did agree to play along, even if things got a little weird. He took the panties from Tina’s hand, and sat down on the bed to put them on. Tina could hardly contain her excitement. These were no normal underwear, and Gary was just about to find that out. Feeling slightly embarrassed, Gary snapped the elastic around his waist, the see-through panties barely containing his girthy package.

“*Come on, Gary, give me a little twirl,”* Tina demanded, pounding the mattress with her hands.

Gary obeyed, thinking that soon the whole thing would be over, and they could get back to having normal sex. But as Gary got to his feet, he felt the panties begin to chafe. He looked down to see the sides of the lace wrapping around his cock, enveloping his shaft and his balls entirely. Though he tried to rip it off, his attempts only made the cage tighter. He protested to Tina, asking her what the hell she had made him do.

“*It’s just a little bit of fun, sissy boy,”* said Tina, draping her arms around her man, and staring at the now perfect cage that wrapped up Gary’s member.

She was delighted with how well it had worked. All that was left was to explain to Gary the rules.

“*Now, it doesn’t come off until you do a few things for me.”*

Gary gulped, knowing that his girlfriend now held his cock hostage. Already he could feel his nipples become hard and ache a little.

“Wha...what’s happening?” he asked nervously.

“You’re becoming my little bitch,” Tina replied, slapping Gary’s ass hard enough to leave a mark.

***

heelsmaster

Lana was late for work, tumbling through the station at high speed to make it to her train. Though she barged past a bunch of people in her way, she was just a little too slow, watching as the train pulled out without her. So that was it, she thought, she was going to be fired, and all because of her stupid alarm clock failing to wake her up at the right time. Furious at the world, Lana angrily paced around the quiet rural station, muttering to herself about her bad luck. It was then she noticed, not far from the entrance, there was something smouldering in the car park. Having nothing better to do, Lana marched out to have a look, curious at what could be going on. When she came to the source of the smoke, all she could see there was a little crater, with nothing inside but a jet-black pair of heels, shining in the sun. Lana stooped down to take a closer look. They were perfect, unblemished, as if they had just been made and left there for her to find. What’s more, they even looked like they might fit Lana. She reached out to touch them, only to feel how hot they were. Sucking on her burned finger, Lana waited a moment and tried again to grab them. Holding onto the pointed heels, she found they had cooled somewhat. It was odd, she thought, that there were no markings on the heels, not even a brand name. Regardless, Lana couldn’t help but slip into them, admiring how they looked on her feet. Glad that something good had happened to her that day, Lana waited for the next train to work, unknowing of the boon that had been granted to her.

When Lana at last reached the office, she was greeted by her boss at her desk.

“*Hey Lana, can you come with me for a moment please?”*

This was it. Lana knew she was about to be fired. But she did not drag her feet. Something about the slender, elegant heels on her feet gave her the utmost confidence. Whatever might happen behind the closed doors of her boss’s office she was ready, or so she thought.

Lana took a seat as instructed, crossing her legs so her boss wouldn’t look up her skirt as he so often did. While he was shuffling papers on his desk, Lana felt a strange tingling in her toes.

“*Now Lana,”* her boss began, “*you’ve been warned about being late.”*

Lana was about to defend herself, but something made her stand up instead, much to her boss’s confusion.

“*Please, sit down Lana…”* her boss was saying, until Lana put her finger over his mouth.

Her heart was racing. Never had she done anything like this. But she couldn’t help but love it. Her boss tried to protest again and again, but each time Lana shut him up, eventually placing her hand on the nape of his neck and guiding him down and down until he slipped off his chair. Soon enough he was level with her heels, which let out a short growl.

“*Lick my shoes,” Lana demanded.*

***

Pleasure to write these! If you would like something similar, comment below or message me!

​

​

A while back I made a video discussing living clothes. For those uninformed, the concept is pretty much clothes that have tentacles. The video discusses the appeals of this erotic fantasy by analyzing it under the context of hentai. Would it be alright if I reposted it to this sub? The original video got taken down from YT. If not, I completely understand.

Hello r/biosuits

Long time fan here. As I'm currently suffering terribly from writer's block, I'm on the hunt for inspiration, and I thought where better than to look for it in my own interests. So, I'm offering free 500 word mini-eroticas based on your suggestions. All you have to do is comment below! Feel free also to DM me if that's more your speed. Hope to hear from you soon!