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Don't Be Rude
Date: 7/14/2024, Categories: Fiction Alien, Extreme, Horror, Mind Control, Pregnant, Reluctance Torture, Author: Krombomich, Source: sexstories.com
“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 ...