Rachel squirmed underneath me, gripping my elongated mantle, squeezing against the slippery flesh. My feelers gripped and spread her thighs easily, spreading open her gushing pussy as I fully inserted the large, ridged phallus designed for the task.
My tentacle fit her perfectly.
Her arms closed around each other, trying to pull me into her. It was an involuntary spasm, unknown even to her. Dopamine and Oxytocin were absorbed through my flesh, stimulating my glands. I injected the naked blonde girl another propulsion of semen, filling her soaking hole.
She let out another moan, her orgasm continued, heard more clearly through telepathy. Every thought, unable to be articulate in symbols or sounds, clambering in my head.
But still, I preferred to look...
I wanted to see her consummate joy, the endless expanses of each orgasm squeezed into one penetrating expression of everything that made identity worthwhile.
I shoved into her, feeling her vagina coil around me, remembering in a spasm of cum the reasons why I had broken with the Overgasm in the first place. She was unique, youthful and bubbly, energetic, and eager for our embrace.
And she was mine.
Stolen or saved from them.
This centropod did not rely on vibrations or sound to communicate.
None of my kind did…
We could have grown them easily enough. Our consciousness travels easily enough through flesh, passed on to the offspring we clone from the basic elements of the planets.
I wasn’t the first.
We spread through the galaxy in waves, blending, adapting, transforming the very molecules around us into new life, designed for perfect utility in each successive arrangement of DNA, searching for a new home.
We lost contact with the scouts shortly after learning of the third planet's suitability. That did not matter, suitable planets are vanishingly rare even in the depths of the cosmos.
We came.
And for the first time, we split.
I can still sense them, former pieces of myself transformed into distinct personalities and novel fleshy creations. Some are hidden, others make their intentions known through demonic designs destined to reverberate through this unnoticing world.
Dagoth the Defiler penetrated every telepathic mind, seeking and searching to consolidate and combine, taking the weak into his cult.
One of his slaves was easy enough to find, the taint of his corrupted influence was like a brand. I touched her mind easily enough, revealing myself to him. I was all too aware of what I risked by appearing again, but there was no choice.
I needed a sacrifice.
Like the others, she was young and sexual by the standards of her species. Her skin was darker, her breasts smaller than Rachel’s, her body certainly tempting.
I called her to the ocean.
The Overgasm would need a trade.
While many of my brethren focused their minds inward on cloaking their telepathy from these demonic predators, the collective still beckoned out from the ocean, its tendrils connected to a thousand constantly orgasming women, each life claimed for the cause of efficiency.
I would swim with her clenched in my arms, my body perfectly designed for the task. Collective consciousness reacts more slowly, each order needing to trickle through every connection for complete compliance. In this, Dagoth and the Overgasm were no different, spread too thin to act with any speed.
The woman shed her clothing shamelessly on the sand, leaving her dress as she walked obediently into the water.
Too much tampering can unmoor a mind.
Dagoth had not been subtle. Her resistance had broken her mind, leaving her only an empty vessel for his lust. I couldn’t even manage to find out a name as she walked up into the water, one hand reaching down to stroke her insatiable sex.
Her buttocks disappeared into the water, then her breasts. Still, she kept walking, masturbating while she went, already desperate for more of our attention.
She thought of nothing else but her quivering needs, the melodic pattern of the mind augmented to sound just one note…
More.
It was the only thing the other monsters wanted her for...
The woman would have drowned, her fingers still rubbing mindlessly against her vagina had I not intervened. I took her into my tentacles, inserting my phalluses into her holes in an act of mercy rather than arousal.
She clutched against my mantles, the position the only thing that reminded me at all of Rachel. There was more than their appearance differentiating the women. Rachel interacted with me, her thoughts a rich tapestry of imagination.
More than that, my constant companion interjected such ideas into me, adding to my development through our mutual expression.