Investigation (3/3)

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 3/3

The indistinct van without left them at the streets, at some intervals, and left.

Riley looked around. The very familiar sight of the street that she walked by thousands of times. But now it felt differently. Of all the pedestrians, she was noticing the men the most. Their builds, the ways they walk. She wasn't a human being to herself anymore; she was a piece of meat now. Fresh meat, offered to men. Well, to women too, but to men first. Available.

She had to get home. To Lila. Or, maybe, to report at her work first?

The walk was a torturous journey of heightened senses. Every vibration of the pavement through the thin soles of her shoes was a small spark that threatened to ignite the roaring fire in her core. The press of the fabric against her newly enlarged, hyper-sensitive breasts was a constant, maddening friction. Her clit, perpetually swollen and engorged, throbbed with every step. The world was no longer a series of objects and people; it was a landscape of potential stimuli. The glint of sun off a distant window, the rumble of a passing bus, the shape of a stranger's jawline—they all filtered through the lens of her new, singular purpose. To get filled.

Riley took her phone out and whistled when she saw the date. As with all Changed women, she had lost a day and a half. Lila must be worried. Then again, maybe not. Riley told her she was going on a long assignment, and her daughter knows how to take care of herself. Riley took a deep breath, trying to tame her arousal. Yes, Lila knows exactly what to do on her own.

She called her boss's number. It wasn't saved in her contacts or recorded in her call history. She had memorized it.

"Hello? It's Riley. I'm out. In one piece. And with the results." Pause. "Yes, I'm fine. Listen. I don't remember a thing, like all Changed women, but my recorder seems intact. Yes." Pause. "Yes, coming to the station immediately. I'm dying to watch the recording, too."

On her way, she called Lila.

"Dear? I'm back. Sorry for missing out, the assignment took more time than expected. Are you all right?"

"Hi Mom," Lila's voice was bright, happy. "I'm more than all right! I had the best two days! There were five new guys in the neighborhood, so much fun!" A brief pause, then: "How are you, Mom? You sound... different."

"I am, honey. I was Changed," Riley said simply. "I'm going to the station now. Duty first. But when I return... Promise to show me all the guys and places around. You know, where to get laid easily."

Lila laughed. That bright, carefree laugh that still twisted something inside the fading vestiges of the old Riley. "Finally, Mommy! Oh, I have so much to show you! We can start with Mr. Henderson from 3B. He has a lot of stamina, and he's home after four."

They hung up. The exchange was absurd, surreal. A mother discussing neighborhood studs with her teenage daughter. But the old horror was gone. In its place was a buzzing, curious anticipation. She wanted to meet Mr. Henderson. She wanted to meet everyone. She wanted to learn the rhythm of this new life from her child, her mentor. She was no longer just a protector; she was about to become a student.

***

"Okay, let's see what you've got..."

Sammy, the technician, has downloaded the recording to his computer and switched to the big screen on the wall.

The room was full to the brim, everyone who were at the place at the moment and could postpone their duties, almost twenty persons, mostly men, just two more women. Riley simply could not avoid making this distinction now. The air quickly became hot and filled with male odors. Riley's sexual pressure become almost impossible to contain, but she did her best to hold up.

They fast-forwarded the part of her leaving the police station and heading to the suspected location. They slowed down to see her capture, but the thugs must have approached her from the back. They only heard the hiss of the injector. "It was Sensyl," Riley commented. "That bit I remember."

A mix of the frames taken at wrong angles as she was dragged and tied up to the chair. They fast-forwarded the unconscious part. Then Riley wake up, and three men entered the room.

Everyone whistled and shouted. "Look who's that! Jack Shadow! Who would think! This is the real breakthrough!"

"Wait for the Change procedure!" Riley said.

The conversation unfolded. They all watched in silent, intense concentration. Riley watched herself on the screen, a stranger whose relaxed, almost amused expressions under the influence of Sensyl seemed to belong to another person entirely. She heard her own recorded laughter, sounding alien yet deeply familiar to her now. The words Jack Shadow spoke—"liberators," "purpose," "prehistoric"—no longer sounded like villainous monologueing. They sounded like... orientation. A welcoming speech. The purpose she deeply agreed with now.

They all were police workers, they saw things. But when Riley undressed, and entered the room with other naked women and girls, and what followed... Riley smiled to herself, catching uneasy coughs, nervous chuckles, seeing them blushing, their breathing getting shallower. All the arousal signs that she was picking up so easily now.

The Riley on the screen engaged in sex with Maya and Sophie. The men in the room could look no longer and looked away. Or pretended that they were looking away. They did not see the last kiss of tenderness and acceptance Riley gave to Sophie before being led into the transformation room. For Riley, watching it now, that kiss was the most important part. It wasn't about sex. It was about shared transition, about stepping over a threshold together. She hadn't just been a participant; she had been a guide, even in her own unknowing.

And then they saw The Room.

The mood changed drastically. They all saw the fixtures on the floor, and how easily and willingly twelve naked women got bound and put into that position. All male eyes in the room were drawn to the images. A dozen female bodies, displayed and open. The hottest porn show, because it wasn't acted up. They saw their faces, excited and eager. Then they heard the slithering sound. And they saw the first glimpses of the creatures.

Silence. A few gasps. The room felt colder, in spite of the body heat. The chief of the SVU, Beatrice "Bea" Harmon, a heavy-set woman in her late fifties, stepped closer to the screen, her face a grim mask.

"What are those... things?"

"I don't know." Riley shivered in anticipation. Her memories broke the dam and were returning quickly. "Nothing like what I saw on National Geographic. Must be genetically engineered constructs."

Someone whistled. "They must be at the edge of the progress, then. Well ahead of us."

"You bet!"

And then everyone saw the whole process of the Change. The camera had the perfect view in the ceiling mirror, so however Riley thrashed her head, they saw at least five girls every time. They saw the girls being wrapped and crawled upon, then penetrated. They heard their muffled moans, screams... and their sounds of growing pleasure. They watched in utter horror—and with the growing secret arousal.

Riley's mind reeled. Watching it was like reliving it, but with a new layer of understanding. The pain she had felt—the hot needle-pricks—wasn't just a touch of the creature. It was an injection. A rewrite of her nervous system. Her biology. Her clitoris, in particular, not just the outer part but the whole organ. The tendrils weren't just instruments of penetration; they were delivery systems for something profound. The liquid that had filled her, distending her belly—that, by the way, already almost returned to normal size—was more than just ejaculate. It was… information seed. Culture medium. A permanent foundation of this new existence.

She looked at the men around her. They were hard in their pants, and couldn't hide it. All of them. The women were squeezing their breasts without noticing it. Their faces a mixture of disgust, awe, and barely contained lust. A grim satisfaction bloomed in her chest. See? See what you're missing? See what true liberation looks like?

And the last scene was the endless gangbang that lasted three hours. They watched for a while, then gave up and fast-forwarded through it.

"That's it," Riley said with a dry throat. "from the inside, it felt... wonderful. Blissful. The best endless orgasms in my life." She looked at the highly aroused audience. "It has reprogrammed me. Totally. I'm dying to get a good fuck. Right now. Please..."

And, not being able to hold up anymore, she began undressing, almost tearing her clothes in haste.

***

When she stepped naked before her twenty colleagues, there was a collective gasp. Riley stood there for a moment, nearly deafened by the overwhelming arousal, her skin covered in goosebumps—that had nothing to do with the cold.

"Shit..." someone said.

"Oh boy..."

"Fuck, I'm giving in!" Sammy stood up, unfastening his belt.

His move broke the dam.

"I'm for it!" another one shouted.

"Here, honey, lie down!"

In a matter of moments, the room turned into a full-blown orgy. There were no longer police officers, there were only men with hard cocks and women who were ready, wet, and happy to be used, their bodies responding with a hunger that surprised even themselves. The last restraints of civilized behavior were gone, shattered by the visual evidence of something so primal, so overwhelming, that it rendered their professional identities moot.

Riley didn't see who was the first to enter her. She was on the floor, on a discarded pile of coats, her legs wrapped around a hips she didn't recognize. His thrusts were urgent, needy. It was magnificent. For a moment, a flash of concern pierced through the haze: Chief Harmon. Her boss. Her mentor. Then it all melted into the writhing mass of limbs.

Bea was not just watching. She was a part of it. She was on her knees on the chief's large desk, her regulation pants puddled around her ankles, moaning as a young patrol officer, not even twenty-five, pounded into her from behind. Her face, usually stern and controlled, was a mask of wild pleasure.

The third woman, Agent Duran, was no slouch either, her excited cries mixed with everyone's.

A wave of deep, profound relief washed over Riley. They understood. Not with their minds, but with their bodies. They all understood. There was no judgement here, only shared, desperate need.

The man in her finished, and she was immediately filled by another. And another. There were at least fifteen of them, maybe more, who came through her. She did her best to please all. With her mouth, her hands, her both bottom holes. The locket bounced against her chest with every thrust, a cold, familiar weight in a sea of anonymous, burning flesh. She came when a stocky detective filled her ass while she jerked off two others, her cries of pleasure swallowed by the chaotic symphony of the room.

Riley was now fully Changed, physically and mentally. The aching emptiness was filled, then refilled. The constant thrum of arousal found its release in a relentless cascade of orgasms, each one stronger than the last. The world shrank to the simple, glorious rhythm of give and take. She looked over at Agent Duran, who was a glistening mess of sweat and semen, a look of triumphant joy on her face as she serviced three men at once. This was their new purpose. Those two weren't fully Changed—yet—but they already turned to it.

They finally ended, caught their breath, and began slowly wandering one by one to the shower and back, to find their clothes in the pile. The women were last to get up, and Riley was the last of them.

"Oh God, Riley, what has possessed you?" Chief Harmon wiped his forehead.

"That's the Change, how it feels like," Riley smiled at him, stretching. She felt divine. She was almost satisfied, maybe she will need only a couple more of fucks before falling asleep tonight... "You have the Changed officer at your service now. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I will need something like that—perhaps less intense—daily, several times a day. I nearly died from abstinence while we were watching the recording, you know."

Chief Harmon let out a heavy breath. It wasn't anger. It was exhaustion, calculation, acceptance.

"Alright." His voice was raspy. "Alright. We have a new element in the equation now. A very, very intimate one." He looked at the three women, one Changed and two just initiated, then at the dazed men. "Durham, take Morgan to the lab. Get her checked out. For everything we can detect. I want... I need to know what's happening on a biological level. Now. Discreetly."

He turned back to Riley, who was calmly dressing, her movements fluid and sure. "Riley. Report to my office once they're finished with you. Not as a changed... individual. As Detective Morgan Riley. Give me your preliminary assessment."

Riley nodded. The old Riley, the detective, flickered behind the new one's eyes for a second. She knew what he was doing. He compartmentalizing. He was making her an asset. "Yes, Chief."

Riley walked out of the conference room. The station, once her fortress, now felt like a marketplace of endless potential. The rookie at the front desk, a lanky kid named Davis who always stumbled over his words, suddenly looked impossibly cute. She leaned to him and kissed his lips, slowly, savoring his taste.

"It's just a teaser," she said. "We'll meet later today, I hope."

And she went to the lab where Durham was waiting for her. There was the time to play, and there was the time to work.