The sound of labored breathing was all that filled the air of Veronica Nevin’s kitchen. Her brain was mush, her higher cognitive thinking turned off from the sheer pleasure forced upon her earlier. Drool steadily oozed its way out of her gaping mouth, gathering together into a small pool of saliva on the ground.

Her everything was on autopilot, such as her breathing, her pussy clenching against a nonexistent tentacle; and when a stray piece of particle debris from the air fell lightly from above and landed on her eyelash, it irritated the young woman enough that Veronica blinked once, twice, three times manually and then—

A sudden intake of breath as she “rebooted” as it were, but it was interrupted by something constricting her throat?

She grasped her neck and found something was encircling it. Something leathery…? No no, it was velvet…?

It was a mixture of the two (somehow?), and judging by the thickness of it and its width…it was choker. Why was she wearing a choker…

It took Veronica a few seconds to remember what had happened, but when she did—?

She was at the office wearing the most comfortable clothes ever, then her brain got fuzzy…before it picked up once again in the bathroom, being “protected” (or maybe the word “hoard” would be better apt?) from a pervert. She was appreciative of The Creature, a tentacle thingie, but that all fell apart once they went to her inherited home and she offered a kiss of all things to The Creature and—

But when she did remember she took in a sharp breath of semi-stale air, her mental fortitude falling apart like a house of cards, like a rock thrown at a house of glass, like a lit flame near a house made of paper.

And just like a lit flame near a house made of paper, the flames steadily grew stronger and stronger and more uncontrollable, and Veronica’s tears grew more and more numerous and uncontrollable. She had been raped by a creature that she scarcely knew about and understood, the few things she did know was that it was a creature that was vastly stronger than her, had the ability to transmit emotions, and had transformative properties, seeing as how it was hiding as…her…clothes?

Stubborn human determination filled her, Veronica’s eyes steeling, her jaw tightening, but nonetheless her palms getting sweaty as she rationalized and analyzed her situation.

She was facedown with her considerable fatty ass in the air, fluids covering all over her and leaking out most prominently from her drenched pussy, especially a milky white fluid gathering on the floor that was not inconsiderably small. The kitchen reeked of sex, specifically Veronica’s own. The clothes on her body were oddly—no, scratch that, they were dry as if they came out of the dryer, incongruent to her peculiar situation. And not to forget the choker on her neck, an unknown color and design due to how close it clung to her bare skin.

Veronica took a deep breath and knew she had one shot, or rather one opportunity, to free herself from this Creature.

“Fuck this,” Veronica eloquently summed up as she stood up on jelly legs, bracing her body against the table that held so many memories of her semi-troubled youth. Once her legs stopped shaking so violently Veronica nabbed a garbage bag from the lower cabinet next to the kitchen sink. Opening it with the power of air pressure, she stumbled her way to the living room, stripping off her halter top and throwing it inside the bag. She repeated the process with the rest of her clothes, though she was careful not to rip them or stretch them obscenely lest Veronica unfortunately woke The Creature.

Once she was stark naked she tied the bag and threw The Monster-bag into her room, inadvertently landing on the center of her bed, before closing the door behind her. Now safe(r), Veronica went to the bathroom and looked herself in the mirror. She looked like she got fucked silly, dried sweat, saliva, and fluids covering all over her body. Her reflection looked depressed, suicidal, but determined to stubbornly struggle for freedom, damned the consequences of that Thing. The forced-upon-her choker was midnight black and simple in design, having a glossy reflective sheen to it that seemed to absorb—or rather distort—the light that touched it.

Veronica immediately tried feeling it up to see where the seam was, but there wasn’t one. She tried to tug it off but there was barely any pull, barely any leeway, and barely any hope for escape. That’s when she got desperate and stalked over quickly but as silently as possible to the living room table drawer and pulled out her hopeful savior:

The box cutter.

Normally used for cutting open the packages she ordered semi-weekly online, it was now being held close to The Creature’s choker around her neck. The utility knife’s trapezoid blade was lightly rusted while the exterior was of a navy blue color, one of the last gifts from her gone-without-a-trace father. Her hand trembled lightly before Veronica reminded herself that she could do this, she could save herself.

As soon as the blade was within an inch of the choker a thin tentacle sprouted out of the back of it and wrapped around the dangerous weapon (to itself that is). Veronica knew it would be fruitless but she kept her grasp on the box cutter and struggled to keep it, simultaneously pulling it back to her tightly but being utterly scared to nick herself in the slightest.

The two beings grappled for a while until The Creature overpowered after a few seconds, seemingly getting annoyed by her escape attempt. It wrestled the box cutter out of her hand and then threw it out the open window nearest to them, landing on the untrimmed grass outside near the worn and heavily used driveway.

“Oh G-God…” Veronica said with a tremble as she tried to catch her breath from the exertion she just did. She realized she was screwed as that…Thing was awake and had to have realized she was trying to get rid of it.

The tentacle poked her to rouse its unwilling host of her stupor. It then…pointed in the direction of Veronica’s room and a feeling of foreign obedience filled her very being, a feeling so strong she was compelled to do it—out of fear or something else she’d rather not confront Veronica didn’t know as she sullenly shuffled to her room.

The Creature didn’t like that as it slapped her on her ass in impatience, making it wobble and jiggle like gelatin. She hissed in pain and shuffled faster, hating that she was now a prisoner and her mast—no!

Her tormentor, yes, her tormentor and rapist, was forcing her to her room to do…that to her.

She entered her room and the tentacle pointed at the bag on the bed before twisting lightly. Veronica didn’t understand for a moment before guessing that The Creature was trying to mimic human behavior and it was likely asking, “Why?”

“I, uh…” she trailed off before the tentacle pushed her forward from the back by pushing against the floor. The Creature inside the bag speared open its prison as a mass of writhing tentacles before launching itself onto her.

Veronica closed her eyes and tried shielding herself with her bare arms, hoping to stop the undeniable rape before it could happen.

The Creature entangled itself around her torso and lower body but…no penetration occurred? She opened her eyes and found herself wearing a set of very intricate purple lingerie. The bra that supported her large pillowy breasts felt comfortable and removed the weight from them yet again, however she could distinctly feel a pair of what felt like a mouth attached to her nipples, suckling on them. Her panties were a micro thong that dug into her pussy and seemed to be focused on her clit, stimulating it.

The Creature…had clothed her? In slutty apparel?

“Why?”

The Thing didn’t respond as it just gestured to the bed. When Veronica made no move to do it as a sign of defiance she then felt an overwhelming and foreign amount of tiredness and exhaustion flood her mind, making her yawn on instinct. Her legs felt like JELL-O and her eyelids weighed like a ton of bricks suddenly. Without her consent Veronica passed out after swaying back and forth for a few seconds, falling face first into her bed.

*****

It was very “happy” from the outcome with Veronica. She was such a special creature, such as her bipedalism and her personality. So prone to trust for such an alien on her homeworld. Veronica had so many chances for attempts at saving herself earlier back at her “paper company” that It was amused. She kept silent the entire time from the shared space lavatoral chamber…the bathroom to the “car” to go back to her enclosure…to her…to their home.

Home?

Yes, It finally had a Home. It had taken a while but now Veronica was ensnared, unconscious, and most importantly alone; allowing It to do two things: 

A small and healthy piece of Itself detached from the backside of The Collar, slithering and oozing and straining Itself to enter the fabric and the cushion, acclimating with it to spread Itself further within their Home. The detached piece was weak and probably needed many cycles (or one Earthen day) to mature and prosper, much like Itself was doing.

With another transferred skill from Its predecessor, It read through her earlier recent thoughts of the Earthen day and…her innocence to the more debased side of reproduction?

Delectable in every aspect of the word. It couldn’t wait any longer and interfaced, while simultaneously taking control, of Veronica’s dream, showing exactly why she should behave like a good subservient pet. It “whispered” to her sweetly the horrid nightmare of finding out the punishment if she misbehaved or acted out of line for a short while, assaulting and abusing her mind until…

Pleasure. Pure, clean, “unadulterated” pleasure coursed through her nervous system…her mind. It was akin to a “drug abuser’s trip,” as it were, yet it was several times more powerful, with all the ups and virtually none of the downs. And when she was almost thoroughly satiated It cut off the pleasure, leaving her to wake up panting like a bitch in heat (as the humans would say in after such a titillating experience). 

*****

The first thing that Veronica did when she realized she was now awake and that dream was only a taste as to what was to come was mewl in response, reveling in that wonderful, delightful agony in-between her legs. She rubbed her thighs together as she tried her best to conjure the feelings from her prior dream, giving herself to the count of three before reminding herself of the fundamental flaw of going along with this Creature.

It clearly didn’t give a damn about her wants, her feelings, her anything—besides her body of course, that fucker loved to play around with it like she was a toy. And if she was now a “toy” to this alien-like tentacle monster, she was being treated as a very rough toy, Veronica mused, as it was always touching her and/or making her appear slutty for its own amusement, surely.

She knew she was too weak to escape from it in the state she was in, nor did it trust her yet around sharp objects near her…around its choker around her neck.

And no, it was not her choker and it will never be.

So Veronica decided to make a risky move in those few minutes of silenceness, of that calm before the storm to do possibly the smartest thing she could in the situation and play along. Yes indeed, playing along with this Creature could save her life and possibly prolong it, at least until she got someone to notice how fucked she was (quite literally!).

But who would notice something would be amiss about her…?

Veronica didn’t have time to ponder that line of thinking any further when she realized that there was a tentacle in her line of sight looking at her, analyzing her next move.

“I…imagine you showed me that weird dream?” Veronica ventured hesitantly, finding herself under the covers for some odd reason. She hadn’t remembered doing that, as she had fallen on top of it when she got weirdly knocked out earlier…probably by The Creature, now that she thought of it. 

The tentacle nodded like it did yesterday, which felt like weeks ago at this point.

“Did you, uh, put the covers on me?” Another nod, this time more enthusiastic. Okay, maybe she can work with this. “You could’ve killed me,” Veronica pointed out, watching as the tentacle shook in what seemed like anger, “but you didn’t…for some reason,” she muttered in confusion. The tentacle noticed (and maybe even felt) her emotion with a cocking of the tentacle to the side, so she elaborated further. “You protect me from that pervert yesterday, you put me in ‘pajamas,’” she gestured to her slutty lingerie, “and you cover me in my own blanket, yet you have no qualms with raping and using me,” she said as coldly as she could, trying to separate the new core memory from the feelings to no avail, trying to be strong and like a rock.

She failed at both, not that she’d admit it.

“Why the dichotomy…I mean, the distinction?” she stumbled on her words, feeling like she always did after waking up recently with brainy and large, complicated words.

The tentacle, in response, simply stared at her before inching closer and closer to her face. It looked predatory in its movement and Veronica panicked, looking around to find something to save her, her eyes roaming until it landed on her alarm clock, causing her to pause.

“I’m late to work,” she blurted out, stopping the tentacle a mere inch away from touching her plump lips. It looked at her, almost as if telling her (not asking) to elaborate. “I, uh, I have to work to feed myself and keep my mom’s…my home. If I don’t work then I won’t own this place anymore, which means I’ll be homeless and on the streets,” she explained. The tentacle turned to look (or was it glaring?) at the clock, making Veronica gulp in fear that it may not believe her, or worse—simply not care.

Surprisingly the tentacle retracted back into the choker, leaving her “alone” in the room. She sighed in relief before realizing her mistake:

Veronica now had to go to work.

“Fuck,” she muttered in disdain, though the other option being rape was a good motivator got her ass moving. She went to take off the bra when she found there was no clasp. She then tried to take it off by pulling it overhead when she found it was stuck, specifically at the nipple area. Trying to tug it off was quite literally like pulling off two suckling mouths on her nipples, making her aware of the background pleasure she was feeling.

She moaned in response, hating that she kinda liked it, but said to the empty air, “I can’t wear lingerie to work, it’s taboo. Please let me take this off.”

Her tormentor and rapist apparently was listening and semi-honored her request by making her clothing bubble, slither, and transform into an office worker outfit at first glance.

“Wow, I didn’t know you could do that while I was wearing it!” Veronica said, impressed/forgetful of her situation for a moment. “It looks so…” she trailed off, about to say something generic like “good” or “cool” to describe her feelings when she realized that, while the lingerie did transform into office clothing, it looked like it came from a porn video.

Yes indeed, it was quite slutty. A white, see-through button up short-sleeve that clearly showed her erect nipples poking through the straining material (though the weight-removing effect was still there) was what she wore over her torso; with every breath she took her bosom shook violently and hypnotically, drawing the eye’s attention to it. And for her lower body it was just as bad, as she wore a black miniskirt that was several sizes too small that hugged her fat ass, making her look even bigger, more pronounced. She could tell that she was wearing no underwear at all, and that if she bended for any reason her skirt would most certainly show her glistening wet pussy to the office.

With a heavy frown she finished her thought, “…whorish. Can you please allow me to choose the outfit?” she requested, feeling demeaned by the whole situation. Several seconds passed before her clothes changed again, except this time it was even worse.

Veronica was now wearing the button up with several of the buttons undone, showing a deep, deep valley of titflesh that would surely cause anyone not to pay attention to her eyes. To top it off her miniskirt wasn’t even “mini” anymore, it was plain unhelpful as it wasn’t even trying to hide anything at that point, any amount of movement showing her pussy lips and her jiggly ass.

She growled in frustration and disgust, knowing certainly without a doubt that if anyone caught her like this she’d die of embarrassment.

“Hey! I need to go to work! So get off of me if you can’t understand that I don’t work at fucking brothel!” she barked out without thought, anger clear as lack of rain in her area when a tentacle sprouted out of the choker to look her dead in the eye.

She froze in slight fear. What would that Creature do to her in her anger? She hadn’t meant to explode, she was just tired of being objectified. She wanted to go to work and show she was more than just her sex, that she was a hard worker, that she had a goddamn brain in her head. She didn’t want to be hurt again, to be used again, but she was just so tired of pretending she was okay with this fucked-up situation.

The tentacle saw her fear and disdain, analyzed it (analyzed her), before the clothing shifted one last time. The valley of titflesh was mostly eliminated with only two buttons left undone and Veronica was now wearing a matching white bra that stealthily (to the public) suckled on her nipples. Her skirt (not “mini” anymore) was only a couple of inches above the knee, making it barely allowed at her place of work, and she could feel that she was wearing another thong, which was something at least.

“That’s…better,” Veronica admitted, about to grab her phone (which had a couple of notifications on it) and then leave the room for her work when she was stopped by the tentacle. It was looking at her, almost as if it was expecting something…

“No…” Veronica shook her head, anger building up within her once more. “You want me to thank you?” she asked, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t—

The Creature nodded enthusiastically (maliciously?), like a smug bastard.

Knowing her options, knowing how screwed she’d be if she missed work, and knowing how assholes (well, human ones at least) acted towards her in the past, Veronica said through gritted teeth, “Thank you…” 

The tentacle shook itself, apparently not satisfied by the answer.

“Thank you…sir,” she tried again, her eyes about to well up in indignation.

The Creature paused before quickly entering her mouth, raping it for quick couple of seconds, while simultaneously smacking her ass and abusing her tits by manipulating the clothing. Once it had its fun with her it left her alone, feeling used and abused once again for its pleasure.

Wiping off the slime from her mouth and fixing her clothing, she trudged her way to the kitchen, grabbed her keys, and Veronica ventured off to work; hoping against hope that someone would notice and someone could help.

*****

• First chapter.
• Previous Chapter.

Like instead of the suits being organic they would be mechanical. Or maybe magical.

Sorry if this type of post isn't allowed, I've been searching high and low with no luck. I found one called hentai_livingsuits but it's banned.

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.
• Next 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.