Every character in this story is 18+. It contains extreme body invasion, forced orgasms, nasty alien pregancy and birth, and all sorts of weird stuff.
“Hallo, Father.” A very pregnant girl with massively swollen breasts wearing nothing but a pair of wet transparent panties shambled like a zombie into the kitchen. The once athletic and beautiful blonde was hard to watch; through her thousand-yard stare, her eyes said she hadn’t slept in weeks and her pale skin was rippling with tentacle bulges. Her throat, especially, was a highway for girthy limbs and it made each of her words sound like it was spoken over a toilet mid-vomit.
“Don’t...” The only man in the house slammed his fork on the table and made the already tense family jump. “... call me that! I am not your father.”
“But...”
“No, not even the half that looks like her. There’s just you right now. The only time I hear my real daughter’s voice is when you’re making her moan loud enough to keep us all awake at night.”
“Harold...” The bloated girl’s mom put a reassuring palm on the back of her husband’s hand. She believed with all her heart that her daughter was happily sharing her body with a tentacled refugee who unfortunately needed to use her womb as an alien factory for the moment and that she would soon negotiate better custody hours.
“Don’t ‘Harold’ me. Look at her! You weren’t even that big when nine months pregnant with the twins. There’s a tentacle coming out of her ear. Her ear!” The tentacle quickly slurped back into the girl’s brain at the outrageous accusation. “I’m supposed to believe this is coexistence? Symbiosis? They tricked her. These dirty aliens tricked my girl and now she’s just a moaning puppet that leaves puddles on every chair she sits on.”
“You made us sad, Father,” the girl gagged out, trying her best to frown.
“You’ve never called me Father once in your entire goddamn life.”
“Sister. Come comfort me in the toilet room.”
“Don’t get too close to that thing, Tiffany!” Harold yelled at his one remaining human daughter following the bag of tentacles up the stairs, but she yelled back that he was a xenophobic bigot who didn't understand anything. “It’s not right. It’s not right...”
“Hallo frieand.” Tiffany was hard to understand this morning. Her syllables were gags passing through a tongue clumsily forced into approximate shapes by throat tentacles while dribbling creamy white ooze from the corners of her mouth. She walked the school hallway toward my locker like the character of a game with janky controls.
“Oh, hi Tiffany!” I acted overly happy to see her and that made her smile (once the throat tentacles figured out how to roll her gums up her teeth). I was never friends with Tiffany but I knew her twin sister pretty well. “I love your outfit.” Her outfit was obscene, but I could only imagine how disorienting it must have been for both of them in the early days of symbiosis. The shy, flat-chested Tiffany that I knew wouldn’t have mistaken belts for a top and skirt. The leather strap around her squished breasts was straining to contain their new size even at the farthest notch. The one around her hips barely covered her ass and it was only the giant preggo belly that blocked the view to her bare vulva. Standards had changed; the principal couldn’t send a girl home just because she was half-naked and leaving a trail of pussy drippings all over the floor. There would barely be any female students left!
“Yes frieand. I am Toffany.”
This was obviously an alien organism temporarily using Tiffany’s body to integrate into human society, but it was trying its best and it felt rude not to recognize the effort. There was a big controversy going on about the morality of letting the progeny of the extraterrestrial being from the meteor slither inside Earth's young women, taking partial control of their brains and reproductive agency. Without Tiffany’s warmth and fluids, this alien baby would have died. Was Tiffany really contributing more to society before this space hermit crab made her body its home? Debatable. But with coexistence, everybody wins. I didn’t want to be like those xenophobic warmongers on TV so I was happy to pretend this was still my good friend Tiffany having a bit of a rough day.
“Come toilet room with me. Girls do that.”
Though I saw the request coming, my heart still sank and I instantly broke out into a cold sweat. Going to the bathroom was a known code for ‘let me birth my baby inside you’. I had a lot going on this year; I wasn’t sure I was ready for this commitment quite yet. “I don’t want to be late for class...” I said, hoping to delay my answer for a few hours.
“You made us sad, frieand.” A wet tentacle came out of Tiffany’s nostril to lick her dry eyeball since she never blinked anymore.
“I’m sorry. I guess...” I could stay alone in my body but could I live with the hypocrisy of letting Tiffany’s poor baby die confused in the cold air of our deadly atmosphere? “I guess we can go to the bathroom together before class.”
Four of the five stalls were occupied by different stages of alien-girl union. For the last few weeks, most non-coexisting girls I knew had been avoiding the school bathroom since the miracle of birth came with disturbing wet noises, demented moaning, and puddles of white lumpy fluid. Tiffany entered the free stall, sat down on the toilet seat, removed her belt bra, and her belt skirt, and spread her legs wide for me unabashed. She also managed to ignore the thrashing legs and drowning gurgles from the adjacent stall better than I did.
“What do I do?” I asked her, still wondering how someone so small could have grown such gigantic belly and breasts.
“Closer,” she repeated until I was on my knees a foot away from her smooth pussy in the shadow of her underbelly.
Having never witnessed it directly, I thought the transfer would be a bit more dignified. Certainly didn’t expect four arm-size tentacles to burst out of her ass, wrap around my head, and force my mouth onto my new friend’s pussy. I made the same noises as my stall neighbor with a few minutes delay: the muffled pleas through hard-pressed lips, the desperate hmpfs as I tried to shake my restrained head to keep anal tentacles from forcing my mouth open, and the gags from a large wet mass of tentacles accompanied by gallons of cervical fluids flowing down my throat for twenty of the worst minutes of my life. I was definitely going to be late for class.
Before slithering back into their intestinal home, the anal tentacles poked down my throat to make sure the straggling limbs had found their way to my bloated stomach. I tried regurgitating my new tenant into the toilet between Tiffany’s spread legs now that her belly had shrunk out of the way, but the process was already too far advanced. The more I tried to force the alien baby out, the deeper its tendrils dug into every cranny of my organs. The possibility of ejection faded as I realized my heart now beat to the rhythm of tentacle squeezes and that breathing was dependent on my lungs being played like bagpipes.
Stretchy slugs ran amok in my digestive system, spreading out into every system. Feeling tentacles slither up your spine to plunge into the folds of your brain is more uncomfortable than it sounds, but I could still move. I was still me. Odd that what 'me' wanted to do more than anything at that moment was to take off my shirt and pants and have hot lesbian tentacle sex with Tiffany.
I straddled the blonde girl’s lap on the toilet. Her breasts looked even bigger now that the contents of her womb were spread across my innards. I never noticed how attractive she (or her sister) was before. My small cherries pressing against her giant melons, I leaned in for a reciprocated kiss. I sucked on her tongue while my hands went past the seat to squish her butt, locking our bodies into a beast with two backs and a million arms. More tongues came out of Tiffany’s throat and I sucked on them too. Then my own slimy appendages joined the orgy inside our slurping mouths full of leaking alien cocks.
I assumed that the dozens of tentacles that came out of my ass were fucking Tiffany’s pussy because that is what her ass tentacles were doing to me. There were so many of them sliding against each other in deep asynchronous thrusts into my womb.
Even with dozens of thick, gooey links joining our mouths and genitals, part of me (probably the alien part) craved more ways to connect with Tiffany. And that part of me’s prayers were answered when wriggly tentacle tips birthed themselves out of each of Tiffany’s nipples as if they had one large dilated pore instead of multitudes. The tips flowered into mouths that latched onto my erect nips. They sucked at first, sending me into a toe-curling frenzy, then reversed the pump to inject my breast with nutritious jelly. I could feel my tiny tits inflate with every spurt until there was so much breast meat between Tiffany and me that our lips were forced apart and only the tentacles coming out of my mouth and nose could reach her face. We looked into each other terrified eyes and watched each other’s pain disappear as they rolled back behind our heads. The alien cum began flooding our fallopian tube with its fertile oatmeal while flooding our brains with the same orgasmic mixture.
Babies making babies. My alien friend had just moved in and I wasn't sure I was ready to be a mommy yet. I didn’t want to have to ask another girl to go to the bathroom with me and birth 40 pounds of tentacles into her mouth, subjecting her to the same horrors I went through. Things were moving a bit too fast. I was starting to realize this may all have been a huge mistake. A new orgasm washed away my worries.
Tentacles from inside my body were now able to fuck my pussy, ass, and throat without Tiffany’s help. That girl was convulsing on the toilet seat while being fucked by her own internal tentacles. I was back on my knees receiving regular face-fulls of her pleasure squirts in my unblinking eyes. For every second I spent regretting my terrible decision, my alien spent 10 minutes erasing them with mind-shaking, squirting orgasms triggered by the movements of tentacles under my skin and whatever the fuck the brain tentacles were doing up there. If a tentacle tip came out of my body, it was to briefly suck on my engorged tits for sustenance.
My copilot kept me drunk on orgasms so I didn't interfere with the controls while it learned how to walk and talk using this new lithe puppet. It let me be myself at night, but night was the peak of its sexual activity and all I could do was moan and scream in my bed, wishing I still had the ability to sleep.
A couple of days later, we were lumbering down the school hallway with a giant belly ready to burst. Very few girls were left unpaired in school and that made us sad. But then one of our female teachers who was still young enough to be a suitable host got me transferred to a new school where I made lots of new friends.
We might have sounded a bit bitter in our previous recollections. Now that we’ve been living in symbiosis for a few hundred years, we can say with confidence that we highly recommend it. Living under a constant assault of brain-frying orgasms in a sleepless vessel is as amazing as it sounds. Every living human female on the planet had the luck of finding a coexisting partner long ago, so we keep ourselves busy by re-impregnating each other, over and over again, packing our sensitive but immortal bodies with the ever-increasing strain of more tentacles. More tentacles dancing under our skin and fucking any hole they can find from the inside means more intense orgasms, which is a good thing for the human part of us. Kill Me. ...is something we never think at all. Kill... Never think at all.