Chapter 6

“Come out, come out, wherever you are...” the female nurse called in a singsong voice from somewhere behind them. “I know you’re in here, Doctor Clément. Who else could have turned off the quarantine lock? I’m sure you’ve already seen what I’ve done to your dear husband, and I bet you just can’t wait to see what I’m going to do to you, hmm?”

Jean and Annette peeked around the salad bar and saw that the nurse was over near the cafeteria entrance and was walking their way while moving furniture around with her tentacled arm.

“I’m sure you’ve come to save your lover and friend, whom I so generously put out on display in the open for you, right? Are you ... here?” She suddenly flipped the table over that they had been hiding behind earlier. “Hmm ... no? Well, I don’t like being the one who’s forced to play boring games ... so, why don’t I start a new game instead?” She giggled and practically skipped over to where Marc and Chanel were hanging, bending down to pick something up from among the tattered clothes beneath the two captives.

“What is she...?” Annette began to wonder aloud, when suddenly her two-way radio that was still strapped to her hip crackled loudly to life. It was just strange, distorted static, but it was enough to completely give away her position. “Ah...” Annette choked on her words in shock as the nurse cackled gleefully, a similar radio in her hand.

“Ah, there you are, Doctor,” the nurse called over to their hiding spot. “Looking to clock out so early? Don’t worry; soon you will never want to leave again...” She began to saunter over towards the salad bar with a look of anticipation on her grinning face. Jean would have been loudly cursing Annette out at this point for her blunder, but he realized that the nurse had implied that she only knew Annette was in the room. The nurse was still unaware of his presence, though it wouldn’t be that way for much longer.

If they ran for the door now, she would clearly see them and give chase. The two of them were exhausted and had already had several close calls, so the odds of them getting this time were extremely low, especially as most of their escapes in the past had been thanks to pure luck. A distraction was needed, but simply throwing a little pack of crackers from the satchel wouldn’t do much good. It would have to be something bigger. Much bigger.

“Putain! What are we going to do!?” Annette hissed at Jean as she frantically attempted to mute her loud radio.

“What I have to,” he grunted, grabbing Annette’s waist and heaving her bodily out into the open, away from the door.

“Jean! Tas de merde!” She angrily screamed back at him, scrambling to her feet and meeting his cold gaze with a look of shock, fear, and betrayal.

“Oh, you’ve finally come out to play?” The nurse cried out in excitement, dashing towards Annette.

“W-wait! G-Geneviève!” Annette stammered, backing away from the approaching woman and accidentally stepping onto a tentacle that promptly bound her feet together, causing her to topple over and land in one of the many puddles of cum with a splash. She wiped her glasses with her hands and glared at Jean with such murderous intent that he was almost impressed.

Annette’s angry face morphed into a cruel smile as she looked up at the nurse, apparently named Geneviève, who was now practically standing over her and looking. Annette pointed behind Geneviève at Jean and was about to say something when the nurse’s tentacles suddenly wrapped around her mouth and lifted her into the air, her legs kicking back and forth.

“Oh, we are going to have SO much fun, Doctor Clément!” Geneviève coyly grinned up at Annette while using another one of her tentacles to delicately remove the doctor’s glasses. Annette’s wide, terrified eyes stared at Jean with an accusatory look, slowly beginning to fill with tears as they focused on the tendrils now approaching her body. “Ever since I walked in on you changing in the break room I’ve wanted to feel your obscene cow tits in my hands...” More tentacles shot out from Geneviève’s pussy and wrapped around Annette, forcing her into submission as the nurse used her own hands to slowly disrobe the doctor she had apparently been so fond of, savoring every article of clothing as she removed it.

Jean didn’t stick around long enough to see what happened next. This was his one window for escape and he was going to take it. Shouldering the bag full of supplies and scooping up the radio Annette had dropped, he swiftly crept towards the door.

He gave one glance back over his shoulder and saw Geneviève slipping Annette’s black bra up with an almost reverent air. Jean hadn’t thought much about it before, but he supposed that the doctor’s breasts were probably D-cups, or maybe even G-cups. This was admittedly out of Jean’s wide area of expertise. The needle-tipped tentacles approaching her hard, brown nipples would most likely make them even larger in a matter of time, which was difficult to believe, but Jean’s worldviews had already been shaken several times that day.

Jean ducked out into the parking lot just as Geneviève began to tenderly suckle on Annette’s left nipple, while filling her hand with the doctor’s other voluptuously globe. A tentacle was working its way down the back of Annette’s pants as Jean closed the door behind him, finally taking in deep breaths of the fresh afternoon air that greeted his lungs like an old friend.

“At least you will be together with your love,” Jean sighed. He looked around the empty parking lot, already prepared to duck and hide from hordes of alien creatures, but there were none, save for a single large humanoid one lumbering in the distance. Apparently the monsters preferred to keep their livestock in protected, enclosed spaces.

There was so much more he had to learn about these wondrous organisms. Why exactly had the MRI machine been so effective against them? Some sort of radio wave interference? Who was this “Queen” they kept mentioning? Was there also a king? Most importantly, what exactly was this wonder drug the tentacles produced that seemed to have cured him of his disease? And how could he get more? Several exciting theories and questions swam through his head as he stealthily slipped into the shadows of Paris, eager for the groundbreaking discoveries awaiting him.

Jean smiled to himself as he took a long swig of tepid water from a bottle in his bag. This was the most alive he had felt since the day he was born, and he was going to make sure nothing would ever get in the way of that again. There would be no illness, no bureaucracy, no finances. Only progress. He could feel his excited heart pumping blood to his loins, and for the first time that day, he didn’t fight it.

Finally. Geneviève had thought her life had been made complete after her Queen welcomed her to the hive, but now that she had a chance to do the same to her once-idolized coworker, she could say she was truly happy. Geneviève paid no mind to the sound of the exterior door closing behind her; she was fixated on the struggling woman in her grasp, or rather, the grasp of her adorable, symbiotic tentacle friends.

At first she had been so terribly afraid. The mysterious creatures had descended upon the hospital in a flurry of tendrils and slime, grabbing up staff and patient alike, before performing unspeakably lewd acts with the captives. Geneviève herself had been stripped practically naked and plastered to the wall behind the reception counter with her legs spread wide and held open by a sticky sludge, exposing her hairy pussy to the world.

The alien tendrils held her nude body helplessly immobile, no matter how hard she tried to wriggle free to cover her shame. Geneviève had grown up ashamed of her twig-thin body and chest that barely qualified as an A-cup. Bullied relentlessly by the other girls back in public school, she had found some relief when her good grades got her into the university of her choice.

She thought her body-shaming problems would go away after landing the job at the hospital, and indeed no on there bullied her. In fact, on her first day, she was heartily welcomed by one of the senior physicians, Doctor Annette Clément, who became somewhat of a mentor for Geneviève. That was when her problems began anew, however.

Geneviève fell into a spiral of self-shame when comparing her feeble feminine charms to those of the buxom doctor. She often overheard the male nurses making lewd comments about Dr. Clément, who already had an attractive husband of her own. Nurses work long, difficult hours, so Geneviève’s love life was nonexistent, not that she had the confidence to land a man anyway.

At first, she had envied her mentor, jealous of the attention that she obliviously received. Geneviève would have done anything to make the men look at her, instead. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to selfishly dislike Dr. Clément, especially after recently walking in on her changing into her scrubs. Geneviève had only seen her with her shirt off, but just witnessing the way Dr. Cléments perfect, full breasts jiggled and threatened to spill out of her heroically straining bra had awoken something in Geneviève’s.

She had gone home that night and relentlessly masturbated for over an hour, replaying the scene in her mind over and over again, using her imagination to peek behind even more layers of the doctor’s clothing. After a week of this, her fingers and small vibrator just weren’t enough. She had splurged a bit and ordered a fancy new dildo online, but she sadly never got a chance to use it.

A few days later, thick, cock-shaped tentacles were continuously stuffing her pussy instead. She gasped when the first rows of alien eggs were slowly pushed up into her womb, but like the other captives around her, she felt no pain. In fact, she even was coming to enjoy it, along with the delicious substance the tentacles kept feeding her. It wasn’t long before she was giving birth to dozens of small writhing alien tendrils, which crawled up to her puffy pink nipples to begin hungrily sucking on her hardened peaks.

Over and over again she felt tentacles deposit eggs into her pussy, fill her with slime, and then leave her dripping and shaking while the newly inseminated spheres pulsated in her tummy. She got used to the sensation of straining to push the newborns out of her gaping cunt, and started to look forward to each birthing, making it a little competition in her head to squirt out more pussy juice and baby tentacles than the several other women being used as breeding stock around her.

It felt good to be bred. To be desired. Something she had rarely experience in life. How excited and happy she had been when she saw the first milker tentacles drop down from the fleshy ceiling above her and slowly approach her breasts. Her flat chest had simply been teased and tugged at by small feelers and the newborns before, but after a time, Geneviève’s eyes widened in astonishment from what she saw when looking down at her latest brood.

Geneviève’s once meager bosom had swollen to be several times larger. Good lord, she had tits! Real, magnificent, bouncy boobs! She had nearly shed a tear from the delight. As the suction cups of the tentacles latched around her juicy globes, she sighed happily, knowing she was able to serve her amazing, generous, extraterrestrial benefactors, even if only by being nothing more than a sack of breedable meat for them to use as they pleased.

But then one day, she suddenly felt the bonds around her slime-covered body loosen. Were they letting her go? Was she not good enough, even as an alien cumdumpster? Geneviève fell to her knees and reached up to grab at the tentacles along the wall, desperately begging them to take her back, to let her serve. Then something marvelous happened. A tiny worm-like tendril fell onto her shoulder from above. Her first instinct was to swat the small critter away, but she controlled herself. If this was a gift from her gods, then she would willingly accept it.

She felt the worm crawl up her neck and into her ear, where it slowly slithered inside. Suddenly, it felt like her brain was being overloaded with pleasure. She gasped loudly and her tongue fell from her drooling mouth as her eyes rolled up into her head. Geneviève was so overcome with stimulation that should couldn’t even move her trembling hands to her gushing cunt in order to pleasure herself. Drool trickled down her chin and between her heaving breasts, before finally a single droplet brushed against her clit.

She exploded into an orgasm so intense that she blacked out, falling limp to the squishy floor while her exhausted body continued to twitch and squirt juices. She was awoken by a sensation of fullness and warmth. Cracking her eyes open, she noticed two things. The first were the tentacles that were emerging from within her pussy, but unlike previously, they weren’t fucking her. They seemed to be moving in tandem with her as she shakily stood, as if she had grown several new arms ... or penises, she thought with a grin. The second thing she noticed was the calming, buzzing noise she could hear inside her head.

It was impossible to describe clearly, but she almost felt like she could hear a melodic voice calling out to her, no, guiding for her. This was the first time she had felt the touch of The Queen, whom Geneviève all at once comprehended the existence of and knew that such a mighty presence must be exalted and served beyond question. She was more than happy to oblige.

Over the next few days, she had come to learn to control the tentacles sharing her holes, though “control” was a strong word to use. She mostly just had impressions of ideas, and as if reading her thoughts, they acted. Even more than before the invasion, she was completely lost to her lust, as if she needed to gulp down a man’s hot load or a woman’s sweet juices daily to stay sane. She knew she was quite sane indeed, as how else would she have been able to serve The Queen so well?

Geneviève followed the impulses given to her, spending her days happily assisting the tentacles in breeding and milking the other humans in the hive who had yet to accept The Queen’s loving embrace. She had been so happy when others started to understand the joys of servitude, walking the heavenly halls of the hospital alongside her, but something wasn’t quite right. No matter how long she searched, Geneviève couldn’t find Dr. Clément. She so desperately wanted to show off her new, improved body while watching the doctor being stuffed with alien eggs and cocks in every hole ... or maybe even another man’s cock. She dreamed of the day should could pull a throbbing, meaty shaft out of Dr. Clément’s helplessly gaping pussy and have a taste of it herself.

But that day never came. As Geneviève became more accustomed to the will of the hive, which was the will of The Queen, she learned how to share knowledge with others. Entering a dream-like state, she could catch glimpses of sounds, sights, and sounds that were not her own. They were fleeting and vague, but enough for her to recognize Dr. Clément’s face on day. The doctor was out on the streets with a small group of people, including her husband. She wasn’t serving the hive at all!

Geneviève lamented in learning that her beloved mentor was lost, unable to experience the pleasures of life that The Queen had so generously granted each and every human who desired it. How could she be so blind? So selfish!? It was Geneviève’s turn to teach Dr. Clément, and she was sure that the doctor would return to the hospital someday, especially if certain doors and windows were left conveniently open.

Now, here Annette Clément was, dangling helplessly with her succulent tits on display only inches from Geneviève’s quivering lips. The pillowy-soft feeling of pressing her face deep into Dr. Clément’s warm bosom was almost too much for Geneviève to bear. She tried to hold herself back a bit longer, but she couldn’t control herself. She greedily sucked Dr. Clément’s hardening nipple into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the sensitive nub and nibbling it with her teeth. She felt the doctor flinch and shudder from the sensation, which incensed Geneviève even more.

She didn’t even bother fully stripping the doctor fully nude yet, just taking the time to savor the feeling of her huge, plump, marshmallow-like boobs in her mouth and fingers, kneading the supple flesh as if making dough. The tentacles around her were a bit less patient, however, and she could feel them starting to slip beneath Dr. Cléments clothing while she played with her breasts. It was probably about time to welcome her into the hive anyhow.