Endothiratic Ch 03

All chapters made with the help of my coauthor, "justcuz2134"!

*****

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:

Her skirt was now so short that a blind man could see the uncovered ass cheeks clapping with every hurried step.

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.