Try desperately to stay conscious through the Commander's

Futanari Fortress, Commander Matsumoto's Office, at 10:57 AM on Monday March 13th, 2024.

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You cling desperately to consciousness as Commander Matsumoto's thirteen-inch cock pistons in and out of your abused pussy with mechanical precision. Each brutal thrust sends shockwaves through your hypersensitive nerves, and your vision swims with tears and encroaching darkness.

"Stay with me, slut," Matsumoto commands, her voice clinical and detached despite the wet slapping sounds of flesh meeting flesh. "If you pass out before I finish my evaluation, the tentacles get you."

You try—God, you try—but your body has other ideas. Another orgasm rips through you, the eighth or ninth or hundredth, you've lost count entirely. Your pussy clenches rhythmically around Matsumoto's massive shaft, gushing fresh fluids that run down your thighs and puddle on the floor beneath the desk.

"Orgasm number twelve," Rei announces from somewhere behind you. "Consciousness deteriorating. Verbal responses nonexistent."

"Disappointing," Matsumoto says flatly, pulling her cock free from your spasming cunt. "Let's try the ass. Sometimes anal penetration triggers a secondary alertness response."

She lines her slick cock up with your gaped asshole and drives forward without mercy. The penetration is so deep you feel her cockhead pressing against your intestines from the inside. Your vision goes completely white.

"And there she goes," Maya observes as your body goes limp.

"Thirteen orgasms, nine minutes forty-two seconds," Rei records. "Failed evaluation. Tentacle pit assignment confirmed."

Matsumo pulls out and steps back, wiping her cock clean with a cloth from her desk. "Shame. That body had premium potential, but her mind couldn't handle the processing. Have her transported to Tank Three immediately. The creatures have been waiting for fresh meat."

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You surface slowly from unconsciousness, awareness returning in fragments. Cold. Wet. Falling. Your body impacts something soft and slippery, and you sink several inches before the surface tension holds you. Your eyes flutter open to darkness broken only by bioluminescent green light pulsing from the walls of an enormous tank.

Translucent slime coats every inch of your naked skin. It tingles where it touches, and within seconds that tingling becomes burning need. Your nipples harden painfully. Your pussy clenches on nothing, already dripping despite the recent ****. The aphrodisiac properties of the breeding solution work instantly on your hypersensitive flesh.

Movement in the shadows. Something long and thick emerges from the slime near your left leg. Then another from your right. More behind you. Above you. They rise from the translucent depths like serpents, their surfaces ridged and glistening, ranging from finger-thick to arm-thick in diameter.

Twenty tentacles. All converging on you.

The first one brushes your inner thigh, and you cum immediately from just that feather-light touch. Your mind fractures a little more.

"No," you whimper, but your body arches into the touch, begging for more.

The tentacles don't wait for permission. They never do.