Skitter's `henchmen' were a couple of teenage girls. She had to be in agonizing pain, but she ignored it in favor of conferring with them as she ate. It gave me a pretty good picture of what she actually did here. Which was apparently taking care of orphans, organizing relief efforts, and making sure her people were safe.
I kept expecting her to ask me to heal her, but she didn't say a word about it. Finally I realized she wasn't going to. She knew I needed to focus on keeping Victoria alive, and she was going to go right on ignoring her injuries for as long as it took for me to decide to get around to helping her. Or not, as the case may be.
It made me feel ashamed. How could she be so strong, when I was so weak? What right did I have to call her a monster, when she'd fought so hard to protect us? Why did I think labels like `hero' and `villain' meant anything at all, when it was the PRT that got my sister killed?
"Skitter?" I said hesitantly. "Can I... stay?"
"Of course you can," she said instantly. "Didn't I already say that? Take as long as you need, Amy."
"No," I shook my head. "I... I can't go home, and I won't help those bastards." I clenched my fist, and had to stop for a moment. "What I mean is... can I work for you?"
I'd surprised her. She studied me for a long moment.
"I'd be stupid to turn you down," she finally said. "But why? I had the impression you don't think much of me?"
"I don't know what to think anymore. About you, or the PRT, or anything. But I've seen the way you fight to protect your people, and you always seem to know what to do. I feel like I'm losing my mind, Skitter. Please, don't let me do anything stupid."
"Alright, Amy. I can do that. I take it you don't want to join the Undersiders?"
"No! Keep that bitch Tattletale away from me, please. It's her fault half of this happened. If she hadn't run her mouth off in front of Victoria at the bank..."
"Yeah. No problem, Amy. You don't have to see her if you don't want to. Um, is there anything else I can do for you right now?"
I rolled my eyes. "Come here, you crazy woman. Let me fix you up before you fall over."
I was afraid she'd judge me for what I'd done to Victoria, but I could take care of that. As I healed her injuries I spared a thread of attention to investigate her brain, and make a few subtle tweaks. Really, it was just more healing. The poor girl was practically asexual for some reason, and I was sure she could use a little happiness in her life. Giving her a new kink or two was more invasive, but really it was a harmless thing. I just didn't want her to judge me.
I was sure it would work right this time. I had a lot more time to work on it, and there was no reason for her mind to fight what I'd done. Besides, I'd have plenty of opportunity to make adjustments.
"You should eat more," I advised as I worked. "You're in good shape, but you're too skinny for this line of work."
"I haven't exactly had a lot of time to worry about it," she replied dryly. "Hmm. Is that something you can affect? Muscle tone, aerobic endurance, that kind of thing?"
I blinked in surprise. "I never thought about it. Yes, I suppose I could do that."
"How about what Bonesaw did to the rest of the Nine? Making them superhumanly durable?"
"That's easy," I admitted, surprised at the answers my power was giving me. "I've never tried it before, but I can see lots of options. Tweak your musculature for higher strength at the cost of increased metabolic load, and retool your digestive system for fast processing of small meals. That would make enough space for a backup heart, an armored rib cage, tougher blood vessels — oh, natural weapons! Rending claws don't work well on human hands, but how about cutting blades with a mechanism for injecting poison into the wound?"
I suddenly realized what I was saying, and ground to a stop. But instead of recoiling in horror she just smiled at me.
"Let's take that one step at a time, shall we? I appreciate the inventiveness, but I'm hoping I won't have to go quite that far. It's nice to be able to walk down the street without making people run screaming."
— oOoOo — ?
It took two days to coax Victoria's ruined body into absorbing enough mass to resume a human form. But when I sat down to finish the project I encountered an unexpected problem.
"Taylor? I need help. Something isn't right here."
My new boss looked up from the costumes she was weaving and blanched. "Yeah, having arms growing out of her chest would be a problem. What can I do?"
"I don't know. I don't understand, this has never happened before. I can't feel what she's supposed to look like."
Taylor frowned. "You mean your power isn't giving you the normal feedback? I know you've healed lots of amputations before. Any idea what might be different here?"
She came over to put an arm around me, and I leaned against her as I tried to think. "Lots of things. Crawler's acid was one of the worst things I've ever tried to heal, and I have trouble with things other powers have affected. The biomass from your bugs was nonhuman, and I've never needed to rebuild a whole body. But I can't screw this up!"
She wrapped me in a hug, and I felt a moment of satisfaction that I'd made time to finish healing her. I felt so safe in her arms.
"Ok, calm down Amy, we'll figure this out. Sometimes it feels like my power is doing some kind of genetic analysis on insects to figure out how they work, and I know it had trouble with the relay bugs you made for me. Maybe there's a similar problem here? You made her body out of so many kinds of tissue the genetics are probably scrambled, but her brain still has her original genes. Right?"
That did make sense. I gingerly extended my power into Victoria's brain, being careful not to touch anything. Well, anything else. I'd been forced to do a lot of manipulation to keep her calm, but that was all low-level stuff. Was there an intact pattern there I could use?
Mammal. Bipedal. Female. Caucasian. Yes! I heaved a sigh of relief.
"Thank god. You're right, that's working. I don't know what I'd do without you, Taylor. If I'd panicked there, I don't know what would have happened."
The lump of flesh on the pallet was slowly assuming a familiar shape now. Taylor stayed where she was, holding me in her arms with her head resting atop mine, and watched. For the first time in days I felt like things were going to work out.
"Amy, did you make me gay?"
I froze. She wasn't supposed to realize that! Now she was going to hate me. What should I do?
She chuckled, and mussed my hair. "Naughty girl. You were supposed to be relying on me for sanity checks, remember? Now I'm going to have to punish you."
I swallowed. I'd had so many fantasies that started like this. But they'd all been about Victoria, not Taylor. Now I was even more confused than before.
"I'm sorry, Taylor. I've been a bad girl."
What was I saying? Just because I was a sick, twisted excuse for a human being didn't mean she was going to order me to...
"Take off your skirt, and bend over," she said sternly.
I gushed.
"Yes, ma'am!"
It was a long time before we got back to restoring Victoria.
Tentacle Taylor
(Автор: minuseven)
Once upon a time, the Entities absorbed a luxurious world, savage and beautiful. There was a curious life-form on that planet. It was a symbiont of sort, a roaming species that attacked others and, after subduing them, had intercourse with its prey. It laid its seed inside them, leaving its prey to be the host-mother of new individuals. But unlike other parasites and opportunists, this species took care of the host-mothers, ensuring more and healthier children, at the cost of a larger energy expenditure.
Taylor Hebert didn't know any of that. But she knew some things. Namely:
1. She was a parahuman.
Well, now she did. It was weird though because... Well, she had done some research and she didn't think that triggering while masturbating fit the norm. She also wasn't going to ask anybody who could know. No way.
2. She had tentacles.
Not always! But... Yeah, she had tentacles under her skin that she bring up and control just as well as any other limb. They could be strong or supple, smooth or coarse, soft or hard. As long as she wanted them, plain or with nubs or smaller tentacles, straight or forked or with holes or phallic.
3. She felt horny.
That was an understatement.
Taylor was dying. She needed something up in her pussy. And she needed it now. Ramming her again and again and again. She whimpered, rolled on top of her covers and tried reaching deeper inside herself, three fingers pumping in steadily inside of her. Her other hand played roughly with one of her swollen nipples. It wasn't enough. Copious amounts of fluids ran down her tights and soaked her sheets. She added her small finger to the other three, spreading her pussy even more. That a couple of days before she hadn't been able to do it didn't even enter her mind. It was more worried about the burning need in the loins of its body.
It still wasn't enough.
With a yell, Taylor gave up. Her fingers continued going at it, unable to stop. She had to find some relief. Somewhere. Her new appendages squirmed under her skin, threatening to manifest involuntarily in her state. Taylor was pretty sure the fire that had grown in her lower abdomen for a few days before becoming unbearable was their fault. But finally, she relented. There had to be some reason why her tentacles could look dick-like and secrete fluids. An obvious reason.
Moaning, she made one simple but thick tentacle sprout from her tailbone. It was sensitive and the feeling of cold air on it made her shiver and harden it. The penis comparisons were so obvious that any doubt she had disappeared right then and there. Her powers were made for sex. And she needed some sexing up right that instant.
She removed her fingers, panting. The absence made her cunt throb even more. She soldiered through and spread her slit with her finger, carefully positioning her tentacle in front of it, ready for penetration. Then, like ripping a band-aid, she thrust it in.
"Oh! Oh!"
The feeling of being filled so completely for the first time, and of filling something, wet warm walls around her, nearly pushed her over the edge. She swore she saw stars. She started moving her hips on reflex, combining it with the opposite movement of her tentacle-tail, thrusting in and out of her pussy, faster and rougher each time.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God..." She repeated the litany until the words were nothing more than high-pitched shrieks, speech dissolving as her brain was filled with far more important sensations. She screamed as the orgasm ripped through her, once, then twice, pleasure exploding inside her until she didn't know up from down.
When Taylor came down from her first orgasmic high, she found herself spread out over her bed, hands resting on her small breasts. Which she swore were just slightly bigger after getting her powers. Which made sense now. Since, well, her powers were for sex. On the one hand, that was disappoint. No Alexandria worthy heroics for poor Taylor Hebert. On the other hand... Fuck. Yes. She had the strangest urge to go to the computer and check out if tentacle porn existed.
Taylor would soon learn that if it exists, there is porn of it. Yes, even of Endbringers. Particularly of the Simurgh. For obvious reasons.
* * *
Taylor was at the mall. She leaned on the first storey's handrail, looking down at the reduced crowds the shopping center had during a Saturday morning. Considering the day was an epitome of summer, clear sky and warm sun, it was natural to expect most people to actually be outdoors. Like on the beach. Which was probably why she was receiving so many weird looks, considering her dark long-sleeved attire. But it was necessary. People would be freaked out by her tentacles, and she didn't quite have complete control over them when she was feeling horny yet.
Anyway.
Taylor was here because, again, of sex. It wasn't like she was picking up girls, no siree! Seriously! She was just... evaluating the panorama. Just getting a feel for it. Like she had had a feel of that blonde's ass in the bus and then seen her rip into the guy standing next to her. Taylor should probably be feeling more conflicted about all of it. The sex, the lesbian tendencies... Did she even count as a girl anymore? Men had boobs too. Kinda... And the entire thing with thinking sexual assault as acceptable.
But the fact was Taylor needed the sex. She had made some painstakingly experiments and discovered she could go up to a week maximum without having sex of any kind, before she went sex-crazy, three days being the limit of comfort. Masturbation was ok, but she had a feeling that the real thing would satiate her much more. Hence the mall visit. There had to be a market for tentacles somewhere out there. Taylor was realizing, belatedly, that she should probably try seedier places for that. Still, she thought as she watched a girl in a short skirt pass her by through the corner of the eye, worth it.
She wondered idly if she could pass herself as a guy by binding her chest and extruding one of her tentacles from the pubic region. People didn't always get totally naked for sex.
She turned away from the handrail and started following the girl from before, keeping an eye not on her but on her reflection on the shops' glass fronts. No need for her target to know she was being stalked. Purely for information, mind you! She was just researching into the habits of the fascinating creatures normal women were. Knowing the areas they frequented the most, which ones were crowded or isolated, knowing what kind of friends they had and when they were together and weren't, where they hate, what kind of sports they practiced, like contact sports perhaps?
And if they had... And the target was meeting up with a guy. Shit. Taylor turned into a clothing store, giving up on that one. A shame, but well...
She started browsing the items on display. She wasn't even pretending. It had been quite a while since the last time she had gone shopping. Not exactly her style, but if she was going to start blending in with the nice-looking ones she might as well invest into something a little bit more out there. Something large enough for her to get her appendages out comfortably preferably. In an effort to ignore both her very light wallet and the side-glances that the employee at the register was giving her, she turned to look for a red t-shirt of her size and saw the poster.
The poster was just one of those large images with a girl in a pose while wearing the store's clothing. Standard publicity. But that girl... Taylor's eyes roamed up, t-shirt forgotten. The promised legs under the jeans, those hips, ready for the grabbing, the flat stomach barely revealed, those breasts, full and round, the inviting curve of the neck, and her face. Her face, framed by red locks, was one Taylor knew very, very well.
