Investigation (2/3)

Detective Riley Morgan is investigating the case of the Changed Women. Now, she has been captured and is about to get her answers — first-hand. Part 2/3

After what could have been ten minutes or an hour, and a dozen of mutual orgasms, they floated back into the reality, all sweating and breathing heavily. There were traces of blood on Sophia's inner thighs, she's lost her virginity, but she did not care.

Right after two more girls were brought into the room—they did not even had the time to sit down—another doors opened, and a man ordered them all to came in. They obeyed. It their present Sensyl-enhanced arousal, it all was just a teasing prelude to something much, much better.

Twelve mattresses were arranged in a half-circle on the floor, with short smooth posts rising from the floor on both sides.

The men led Riley to her spot and laid her on her back. Two posts protruded near her hips. Riley now saw that there was a row of bolt holes in them. They told her to raise her legs, pull her knees to her shoulders, and press her ankles outside the posts. She obeyed, and the men promptly screwed two horizontal bars onto the posts, one below her feet and one above. Finally, they handcuffed her wrists to the bottom of the posts. The other girls and women were fixed in the same way.

Riley admired the construction. Being a BDSM sub, she was tied down and bounded countless times, but she never saw such practical simplicity. She was now almost free and at the same time fully immobilized, in a way that felt very, very comfortable – and very ready to be used. She laid on her back, her legs spread obscenely and held up by the bars, a position of utter vulnerability, with all her holes exposed and available. She could still easily move her hips and body to adjust herself to any penetration. Too bad she will forget it all; she would like to bring the blueprints to a couple of dungeons she was visiting.

A cold dread battled a liquid fire in her veins, and the fire was winning. Her body knew this pose and craved it. She was prepared to be exploited. How would it be?

She stared up into the mirror ceiling and saw herself and others, an arrangement of female flesh ready to be... processed. The other girls seemed rather excited and laughing nervously. Even young Sophie. Riley heard whispers, like she had from Maya. They all know what was coming. And they seemed okay with that. Happy, even.

The men left the room, closing the door after them. The silence fell.

***

Then several low-mounted doors, more like shutters, opened. With a sloshing, slithering sound... something... began to enter the room.

Riley gasped and opened her eyes wide. Sophie by her side sobbed and whined.

The things looked like giant, human-size slugs. They weren't exactly slugs, they were more like blobs of goo, they protruded and retracted eyestalks and tentacles, helping themselves to the semi-circle of helpless girls. They moved slowly, but with deliberate precision that left no doubts about their destinations. Their skin—a semi-translucent, opalescent gelatin—seemed to ripple with a life of its own. And they smelled faintly of salt, iron, and something else, something organic and profoundly sexual. The scent that made Riley wet.

Fear, sharp and acrid, finally cut through her fading Sensyl haze. This wasn't sex with a partner, willing or forced. This was something else entirely. Her mind recoiled, screaming about parasites, about alien biology, about the ultimate violation. This was a true monster, a thing of nightmares. She yanked at her cuffs, a futile, desperate motion.

A creature reached her first. Its eyestalks swiveled to fix on her, and she felt its attention like a physical touch, then they retracted. The creature did not need eyes anymore to find her. Another reached Sophie. Another, Maya. The girls around were gasping and crying. "No, no, please..."

Riley was trying to keep her mind clear. She had to observe. For her report. For Lila, who had experienced the same thing. Well, she was going to forget, like everyone else, but she still had her recorder working silently. Working, hopefully. And she still wanted to experience, to feel, to remember.

The creature moved over her. Its cool, gelatinous bulk settled onto her exposed abdomen and thighs, shocking her system with a clammy pressure. It was heavy, exactly the weight you'd expect from the body of this size. She whimpered, feeling the slimy touch to her whole bottom, to her feet, to her legs, to her... most sensitive things. A quick glance at the ceiling showed herself, Sophie, Marie, all others in the same position, their lower halves covered with the throbbing goo. And it kept crawling higher.

As it slid over her mound, Riley braced herself, expecting a violation. But it paused, its surface seeming to vibrate in a low, resonant hum that traveled directly into her nerves, into her very bones. The vibration wasn't mechanical. It was alive.

It moved further up, covering her belly, climbing towards her breasts. Her hardened nipples screamed as the soft, yielding flesh of the creature enveloped them, the vibration intensifying. A wave of liquid heat washed over her, so intense it bordered on pain. Her back arched as far as the restraints and the pressing weight would allow, a guttural moan tearing from her throat. Her mind, the detective's mind, tried to catalogue it, to file it away as 'evidence', but her senses were being hijacked, rewritten. Oh God. Did Lila experienced the same violation? Yes. Of course. She did. And she came out changed.

Riley's whole skin, covered by the creature, suddenly burned, as if thousands of thin needles penetrated her, releasing their load, just for a second. The hot shots at her vulva and anus were the most painful. Riley screamed and arched, and other girls echoed. She felt the hotness spreading over her whole body, fast, burning. For a split of a second, everything turned into a white, empty void. Then the feeling faded.

She lay limp and breathed heavily. Her skin tingled all over. The previous pain was replaced by a deep, thrumming warmth. The creature on her chest contracted slightly, crawling up and squeezing her breasts. It wrapped around her arms, shoulders, and neck, flowing under her back and engulfing her head. It touched her face. Riley moaned in terror, fearing she would suffocate, but the goo left her nostrils and eyes open. Only them.

She floated, wrapped, embraced by the goo, tighter than any man could hug her, more intimate than any hot bath could reach. She could not help but moan with the pleasure— and impatience. She wanted more! Her throbbing, hot, twitching body wanted more! MORE!

And then it happened.

She watched through the ceiling mirror—her last act as Detective Riley Morgan—as what looked like long, pulsating tubes, tentacles as thick as her own arm, began to form within the creature's translucent main body. They was slick, segmented like an earthworm, with rounded, blind tips that probed the way. There were three of them, and they extended slowly, with a horrifying, biological purposefulness. Two headed for her inviting crotch, and one targeted her forcefully opened mouth.

She understood its purpose with a crystalline, horrifying clarity. This was it. This was the Change.

The lower one pressed against her already soaked and stretched folds, not asking permission but simply asserting its will. The pressure was immense, insistent. She tried to clench, a final, futile act of defiance from muscles that now existed for another purpose. But it was like trying to stop a tide with a handful of sand. Her body yielded, the tendril pushing inside her, stretching her, filling her beyond any capacity she thought she had. There was almost no pain, only the stretching and filling she never felt before. There was only a sudden, overwhelming completeness. A shudder wracked her, a full-body spasm of pure pleasure, as it pushed through her cervix and began filling her womb.

The second lower tendril circled her anus before pressing, slick and insistent. The entrance was tighter, a small rebellion of her nervous system. But her body, rewired by that initial hot injection, betrayed her. Her muscles relaxed, welcoming the invasion. As it slid home, nestling alongside its twin in her passage, a second, deeper level of existence opened up within her. A feeling of being so utterly, profoundly filled that it erased all other thoughts. The police precinct, the case file, her daughter’s worried face—it all dissolved in the feeling of urgent, insistent, stretching violation. Deeper and deeper into her body. And... she welcomed it.

The last tendril stretched her lips and pushed her jaw even wider. Riley barely managed to let out a muffled moan before the tendril pushed into her throat. Again, there was no gag reflex, only an easy yielding and a sensation of being completely and irrevocably used. No pain. Only the deep contentment of submission and losing the last bits of her agency remained. From what she could tell, the tendril had reached her stomach.

She hung for a moment, enjoying the hot slimy embrace, the stretching, the fullness, the completion.

Then the tendrils began to move. Slowly and cautiously at first, then they gained the rhythm and range that Riley knew all so well. The thrusts of horny and impatient men with big dicks. Only now she felt them within her whole body, as deep as no man could reach. The big pulsating thing on her chest kept vibrating all the while, squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples and the skin everywhere, from neck to armpits to bare soles, amplifying her arousal beyond what she thought could be possible.

The room was filled with the sloshing sounds and muffled short moans.

She glanced at her neighbors. Young Sophie sobbed for a while, but now her sobs turned into gasps, moans, and a rhythmic, happy grunts. The creature filling her was a perfect match for her smaller body. Riley saw Sophie's belly stretching by the serpent-like things moving inside. The look on the fourteen-year-old's face was not one of pain. It was pure discovery. And to Riley's right, she caught sight of Maya, her head thrown back, a beatific smile on her stretched lips as her body met the creature's rhythm.

Riley's own hips began to buck automatically. To push, to welcome the thrust, to get more. The creature on her chest was vibrating stronger and stronger, a relentless wave of heat and sensation. All she could see were the dim lights of the room. All she could feel was the endless friction, the pressure, the fullness, and the pleasure. Her clit, her hard nipples pressed against the goo were singing with delight. Everything was lost to her but this burning pleasure that filled her completely.

She felt something like—hard slaps? electric shocks? stings?—all over her skin and her insides, but at this point the pain only amplified the pleasure. Riley moaned, welcoming it. And then she came.

Her orgasm tore through her like a supernova. Not the brief, sharp peak she was used to, but a rolling, seismic event that started deep in her core and radiated outwards in devastating waves. Her entire body convulsed, a prisoner to sensations she couldn't comprehend, let alone control. A primal scream tore from her throat, muffled and damped by the tendril that filled her. As her walls spasmed uncontrollably around the invaders, she felt a sudden, violent surge of liquid heat flooding into her. It was the creature's release. A thick, warm liquid pumped into her womb, her bowels, her stomach. She could feel her belly distending slightly as the substance filled her, a visible swell in the mirror above. She saw the same happening to Sophie next to her, the girl's slight belly rounding with the influx. It should have been horrifying. In the last rational corner of her mind, it was horrifying. But her body, this new body, sang with triumph. This was its purpose. This was fulfillment.

And it was not over. The tendrils even did not slow down. Riley writhed, feeling her next orgasm building up, and exploded again. And again. And again.

She could not tell how long it all lasted. She lost count. She lost all notion of linear time. There were only the cycles—tension, explosion, blessed release, the feeling of hot fluid filling her again—and the relentless building pressure of the next wave. Her mind shattered into a million glittering shards of pleasure. The faces of her colleagues and the memories of her past—flashes of her old life—drifted by and dissolved like sugar in hot water. They became less and less real. The only reality was the rhythm, the friction, the unceasing heat.

Eventually, the sensations began to change. The last traces of pain faded completely. The omnipresent pleasure became less of a violent peak and more of a constant, humming state of being. A strong baseline. The creature stopped its frantic thrusting. It was simply... there. A warm, vibrating part of her. A living, breathing extension of her own anatomy. Of her body, now filled with the pleasure, every cell of it.

***

Riley almost cried with desperation when her slug slowly retracted its appendages, flowed down her skin and crawled back to its low door.

She examined her body, directly and in the mirror. Deeply reddened skin that was slowly returning to its normal color... no traces of the body hair, the creature must have dissolved it—something told Riley that it was a permanent change... her firm breasts that seemingly gained a size, with the thick hard nipples sticking up... her hips that got wider... her spread toes... her crimson clit, peeking out from its hood, huge with constant arousal. And her belly... it was still rounded, with a small pouch like she had from her pregnancy. That's the fluid they pumped inside. It will take some time to absorb, Riley understood.

The men came back. They unshackled all the women, including Riley. They gave them water to drink. They helped them to their unsteady feet. Riley moaned. The touch of the cold floor to her bare soles now felt near orgasmic, too.

Then they invited the women to the next room.

***

It was rather a hall, with many entrances and exits, filled with a sparce row of couches.

"Take your places," one of the men said. "And prepare to be taken. Used, a lot."

Riley lied down and laughed in disbelief. "What, no bondage?"

The man chuckled. "No need. Not any longer. You girls have been Changed. Now you can't refuse to have sex."

And Riley saw the truth in his words.

***

And then they came, dozens of men, some clothed, others naked. They were not the featureless thugs, nor the nerdy scientists. They looked random, all ages, shapes, and ethnicities. Were they paying clients? Or maybe the employees of this facility? Or the volunteers? Or the previously Changed men (they surely existed)? In that moment, it didn't matter.

Riley watched one approach her couch. His face was unremarkable, his body soft around the middle. He didn't speak. He simply climbed on top of her, his weight a familiar anchor, and pushed himself inside her. The sensation was… different. Not the liquid, all-encompassing fullness of the creature, but a solid, grounding friction. A perfect complement to the new emptiness she was feeling. And it felt better than any sex she had before, and she had lots of it.

Her hips bucked to meet him without a conscious thought. Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him deeper. Detective Riley would have been dissecting the situation, looking for leverage, for an angle. This new creature in her skin knew only one angle: the one that gave the most pleasure to them both. The only purpose: to give herself out, to submit, to be filled over and over. Her moans mingled with a dozen others, creating a dissonant symphony of pure, hedonistic bliss. The locket containing Lila's photo was a forgotten, cold pressure against her sternum.

Men moved from one girl to the next, fucking, cumming, leaving, giving place to next ones. She felt them in her all holes, on her skin, her hair—some rough, some gentle, some quick, some lingering. Each one was a confirmation of her new reality. Her pleasure was no longer her own; it was a public utility, endlessly renewable. Each orgasm crashed over her, less an explosion and more a tide rising to immerse her completely. She caught a glimpse of Sophie. The young girl was being taken from behind, a look of fierce concentration on her face. There were no tears now. Only the pursuit of a feeling, of her new self.

Again, time dissolved into a rhythm. There was the slapping of skin, grunts, and high cries of climax. The girls drank water from time to time to wash away the taste of the endless streams of sperm added to the creatures' fluids inside them.

They did not count the men, the orgasms or the time. But finally the steady flow of the men subdued, leaving twelve young women breathing hard on their couches. They all were totally used, satisfied, yet not sated. They still wanted more.

They were led to the showers, cleaned themselves, returned to their cum-stained couches and fell into deep sleep.

***

Riley came to. She was lying naked on a couch, in a cool, windowless, dimly lit hall. Her whole body ached pleasantly, but she could not remember neither how she got here nor what she did. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked around. There was a row of the couches in the hall, with twelve naked young women and girls – some perhaps as young as fourteen-year-olds – that were stirring, waking up and looking around with the same puzzled looks on their faces. Was there an orgy she forgot?

She felt a strange, gnawing emptiness within herself. It was not the hunger she knew or any kind of emotional loneliness. It was a physical, demanding ache. A hollow feeling deep within her core that needed to be filled. She shifted her legs, feeling the raw friction of the couch fabric against her. That's nice. She liked it. The aching emptiness demanded immediate, physical satisfaction.

One by one, the others also came to realize the urgent ache in their loins. The air in the room quickly grew thick with unspoken tension, the primal scent of women in heat.

Then a door opened. A woman in a plain, gray uniform, her expression neutral, entered. In her hands, she carried a large stack of neatly folded clothing.

"It's time to go home," the woman announced, her voice devoid of any warmth or judgment. She began handing out the sets of their clothing and shoes. "Get dressed. Transport will be here in ten minutes, we'll release you in another part of the city, but not far from your homes."

Home? Riley’s mind recoiled. A flash of memory—Lila’s face, a precinct badge, a pile of cold case files—stirred like a photograph at the bottom of a lake, but it was vague and uncertain.

The memories slowly returned. Her teenage daughter who Changed into the sex-addicted slut that desperately needed a dozen fucks per day. Other Changed girls and women. Her work, a police detective on the investigation. Her— capture, maybe? This part was vague. Everything after that melted into one big blur of the most orgasmic experience she had ever experienced. What was that?

Riley raised her eyebrows in an effort, and felt the ring pierced above her left eye. Ah, yes. Her recorder. Hopefully, still working. And, hopefully, they'll get the complete sound and video of everything she forgot.

She pulled on her shirt and jeans, and sat down to lace up her sneakers. Both the clothes and shoes felt strangely uncomfortable, too tight, too heavy, too hot, too irritating, she would rather remain naked. She threw a glance at the fourteen-year girl at the next couch who was pulling on her sandals, her face a mask of confusion and deep thoughtfulness. Something has clicked in.

"Um... Sophie?"

The girl raised her eyes.

"Yes. And you... Riley?"

"Right."

"What has happened? All I remember was a... pleasure." Sophie blushed. "And... now I want something. I never did it before, but somehow I know what I need..." She blushed even more.

Riley sat next to her and hugged her thin shoulders. "I... don't remember either. But I know what do you feel. I feel it too. It's our purpose. It's the happiest thing that could happen to a woman. The most..."