Mitsuko drinks Milk
CW: corruption, hypnosis, lactation, latex, slime, tentacles, identity loss, alien parasite, bunny suits, personality erasure
Hi hi~ This one will be the start of a ?small? series. I just couldn't help myself.
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Mitsuko Tanaka had always preferred the edges of space.
That was where things still felt alive.
The airlock behind her hissed shut with a finality that sent a faint vibration through the soles of her boots, but she barely noticed. Her attention had already shifted forward into the wide, open corridors of the station that sprawled out before her in a riot of color and sound.
Neon lights pulsed in layered patterns across every surface, reflecting off polished metal and glass in a way that made the entire place feel like it was breathing. Music drifted from unseen sources, overlapping in clashing rhythms that somehow formed a chaotic but compelling backdrop.
Mitsuko smiled.
"This is more like it," she murmured.
A month chasing unstable scientists through the void, only to end in sterile labs and sealed facilities had dulled her sense of adventure more than she cared to admit.
This was the opposite.
Here, nothing seemed to follow a single rule. Every turn of the hallway revealed something new, something unexpected. A flicker of movement. A burst of color. A sound that didn't quite belong with the last one.
It was messy. Human.
Exactly why she had signed on under Captain Samantha Aries in the first place.
Her steps slowed just slightly as that thought settled.
And with it, the memory of the captain's voice.
'Stay aware. Fringe stations don't follow the standard protocols.'
Mitsuko exhaled through her nose, her smile softening but not disappearing.
"Yes, yes," she muttered. "Quarantine risks, unregulated tech, unpredictable locals, yadda, yadda."
She rolled one shoulder in a loose shrug.
That was part of the charm.
If everything was safe, if everything was monitored and approved, what was the point of coming all this way?
Mitsuko tilted her head.
"Huh."
A storefront, if it could be called that, caught her eye.
It was set slightly apart from the rest, framed in softer light that contrasted with the harsher neon outside. At first glance, it looked like a café. Or maybe a bar. Something in between.
But it wasn't the place itself that drew her in.
It was the staff.
The figures moving inside wore sleek, fitted costumes that caught the light in smooth, reflective surfaces. Shiny color paired with deep, glossy black. The designs were stylized, almost theatrical, with long lines and clean silhouettes that made each movement seem more deliberate. And the body proportions didn't just hint at artificial enhancements. No human being, even with the most curated gene mods had such voluptuous curves.
But what caught Mitsuko's eyes were their faces, hidden beneath masks.
Smooth silver covered them completely, featureless except for two narrow slits where their eyes should be. A faint blue glow emanated from within, steady and unblinking.
Mitsuko slowed to a stop.
"Okay," she said under her breath, a spark of interest flaring brighter. "That's new."
She had been to a lot of places. Seen a lot of themes, but nothing like this.
Her earlier caution flickered again, just briefly.
Then curiosity pushed past it.
With a small, almost eager shift in her posture, Mitsuko adjusted her jacket and stepped toward the entrance.
"Captain would hate this," she mused lightly.
The thought only made her smile widen.
And without slowing down, she crossed the threshold into the strange establishment.
The light shifted around her, softening even further. It took her eyes a moment to adjust to the change. As they did, the rest of her senses caught up with the scene.
The place wasn't as big as she had first guessed. Or at least, the space didn't feel large. Low walls, covered with a plush fabric that muffled the noise of the station, broke the room into smaller, more intimate areas. The ceiling seemed lower, and the furniture was scattered in a way that felt purposeful rather than random. Male patrons enjoyed the undulating globes and hips. While most of the female clients seemed to simply smile and stare into the void.
But what really set it apart were the masked figures that moved through it all with a casual grace that spoke of long familiarity. Mitsuko watched as one, then another paused to take orders or deliver drinks to various tables, their sleek outfits rippling with every shift in balance.
It was an interesting effect, the way the fabric hugged their forms. It reminded her of latex, while it moved like a second skin. Almost like they were wearing a layer of liquid color.
And that was just the clothing.
The masks were a whole other level of fascinating. They were molded to each face so closely that they seemed to have been poured in place rather than placed. Every time she looked, she caught herself wondering how they stayed on at all. And the faint glow of the blue lights inside the narrow slits made it impossible to tell what was happening beneath them. The masks gave away nothing about their expressions. Their intentions. Their mood.
The effect was strangely alluring. Like they existed only to serve the clients. Their faces, their personalities, their identities were secondary to their role here.
Mitsuko slipped into a single person booth. The fabric was a deep red that bordered on crimson, plush and yielding under her weight as she settled into the plush embrace of the curved backrest. It felt more like sinking into a giant, velvety cushion than sitting in a traditional seat. She let herself sink into the contours of the fabric. Her fingers brushed over the material, exploring the texture. A small hum of pleasure rose in her throat as the sensations washed over her.
"Welcome," a rich voice purred.
Mitsuko started and glanced up. A masked figure stood beside her booth, their posture tantalizing and poised. A low curve in the spine, an exaggerated sway in the hips that pulled the latex-like costume even tighter over the generous curves. The mask stared back, unblinking. The blue glow of the eyes was steady. A thin layer of moisture glistened on the figure's neck and cleavage, the light playing off the droplets like a shimmering web.
"I, uh, hello," Mitsuko said. Her gaze lingered on the costume for an extended beat, taking in the contours of the body beneath before snapping back up to meet the blue glow.
"First time here?" the figure asked, tilting its head. There was a hint of something in its tone that made Mitsuko think of amusement. Or perhaps it was just her own reaction that colored the words that way.
"Yes," she answered quickly, straightening a little. She let one hand rest on the table, fingertips tracing a random pattern on the polished surface. Her gaze darted around again, taking in the other patrons. The ones that were not masked seemed oblivious. Their gazes were locked on the masked figures. None of them looked her way.
"May I recommend our special as an appetizer?"
Mitsuko had to admit that the voice of the waitress sounded like bottled sex. Even as she said mundane things. Or maybe because she did. It was deep. Luscious, dripping with a richness that Mitsuko couldn't quite pin down.
"Sure, I'll take that," she replied, feeling her own voice pale in comparison. She glanced around once more, then leaned back, letting her posture relax against the soft contours of the seat.
The figure lifted one of her breasts. And squeezed. Thick, white milk poured into a wine glass.
Mitsuko gaped, jaw slack.
As she watched, the waitress lifted the filled glass in a graceful gesture and placed it on the table in front of Mitsuko.
"Our specialty," she said. Her voice held the same note of amusement as before. The blue lights of her eyes seemed to pulse briefly. She leaned down and brushed a hand over the side of Mitsuko's face in an oddly affectionate gesture. "We hope you find it to your liking."
The figure turned and left with an exaggerated sway in her hips
And Mitsuko was left alone in the plush booth, a glass of freshly expressed breast milk sitting in front of her.
"Well," she said out loud to no one in particular, "that was unexpected."
She picked up the glass, studying the liquid within. The surface caught the light, reflecting it back with a pearlescent sheen. She swirled it once, watching how it moved. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a small, exploratory sip.
Flavors danced across her tongue. It was a mixture of sweetness and richness, with a subtle undercurrent of something almost savory. Mitsuko had to hold back a moan. Her lips parted slightly, and she let a bit more of the liquid coat her tongue. It was smooth, velvety in texture. A faint warmth seemed to radiate from it as it flowed down her throat. Mitsuko felt an unexpected tingle spread from her stomach. Her cheeks flushed, her breath hitched, and her nipples hardened. She set the glass down, carefully, her fingers lingering on the cool glass for an extra moment.
"Wow," she whispered. Never had she tasted something like this.
Her attention drifted back to the waitress who had poured the drink.
She had a clear view of the figure's back. A deep, curving arch that emphasized the exaggerated swell of the figure's rear. The fabric there was stretched taut, almost impossibly so. It caught the light in shimmering ripples, the black base seeming to melt into a deep purple as Mitsuko watched. She couldn't quite tear her eyes away.
Almost unaware she took another sip.
She watched the figure bend over to take an order. The angle was tantalizing. Her gaze followed the lines of the figure's costume as they bent forward. The fabric molded itself to every contour of the body beneath, accentuating the curve of the figure's waist, the flare of their hips, and the rounded swell of their rear. It was an oddly hypnotic sight.
Mitsuko took another, slightly deeper sip.
The warmth spread from her stomach. It suffused her body. Her cheeks flushed even more. She felt a strange tingle in her lips, in her fingertips. And a slow, creeping heat building between her legs. Saliva thickened in her mouth. The urge to touch herself, to ease the growing need that coiled in the pit of her stomach, grew stronger.
Her attention snapped back to the figure who had served her as she straightened, her back arched in an impossible curve that seemed to defy physics.
And then, suddenly, their gaze met.
The waitress paused for a long moment. Her stance shifted subtly, the exaggerated curve in her spine relaxing as she straightened up. Her arms moved with languid grace as she stretched.
Mitsuko's mouth felt dry.
She took a larger, deeper drink, finishing what remained in her glass. Her gaze was drawn back to the masked waitress as the figure stepped closer. There was something about the way they moved. It wasn't just a simple stride, a shift in balance from one foot to the other.
It was a tantalizing, controlled glide.
The figure's hips swayed with an almost hypnotic rhythm. Each step was perfectly timed. Perfectly measured. As if the movement itself was part of the figure's appeal. Her heels clacked an irresistible melody. And as the waitress neared, Mitsuko's heart rate picked up, the tempo rising to match the beat of those footsteps. She could almost feel the pulse of it in her fingertips. A steady, rhythmic beat that matched the throbbing heat building within her body. She took a slow breath, her chest expanding with the effort, and let her gaze follow the waitress as they drew closer.
As the figure neared, she leaned down. The arch of her back was exaggerated, her hips jutting outward as she placed her hands on the edge of Mitsuko's table and leaned forward.
"I see, someone enjoyed our special. Why don't you have another," the figure suggested, a sultry lilt in her voice.
The fabric of the figure's costume stretched tighter across her breasts as she leaned forward, the contours of her chest straining against the glossy material. The swell of her cleavage pressed together, forming a deep line that dipped downward.
And all Mitsuko could do was nod. Her mouth was suddenly dry, yet a line of drool dripped from her chin.
"Please," Mitsuko croaked. She licked her lips. Swallowed. "Yes."
The masked figure nodded, the blue glow within her visors shifting slightly as the waitress leaned down. She placed a hand under one of her breasts and lifted it.
Then, with deliberate precision, the figure squeezed, the milk flowing out into the empty glass in front of Mitsuko. It filled quickly, the white fluid swirling in the container, forming tiny ripples that shimmered with the reflections of the soft lighting around them. The sound of the liquid was a soft, rhythmic splash against the glass.
The scent was intoxicating. It filled the air, warm and heady, mingling with the faint, artificial undertones of the fabric the waitress wore.
The waitress' costume stretched tighter over the figure's breasts, accentuating their size and fullness, as she squeezed a second time. The white liquid splattered against the rim of the glass. Some splashed on Mitsuko's fingers.
"Oops. Hope you don't mind," she purred, taking Mitsuko's hand. And slowly lifted it up. Right in front of Mitsuko's lips.
"Mind? Oh not at all," Mitsuko murmured. She felt her tongue flick out, instinctively darting forward to lick her fingers. The taste was richer, thicker, and more potent than she expected. She licked a second, and then a third time.
"That's right. No mind. Just pleasure," the masked figure whispered. "Enjoy your drink." And then the figure straightened, turned, and sauntered away. Leaving Mitsuko with a fresh, steaming drink, and the lingering scent of that warm, sweet scent on her fingertips. Mitsuko stared into the void as she took another sip. And then another, larger one.
And another. Deeper. Longer.
The glass emptied faster this time.
She could feel the heat building inside her body. Her clothes felt too tight, constricting her skin in ways that made her want to squirm in her seat. The plush material beneath her seemed to press against her in all the right places. Each shift of her body rubbed her in ways she couldn't quite control. Her breaths came in shorter, sharper bursts, and she found herself pressing her thighs together. The pressure did little to alleviate the throbbing ache between them.
Her skin felt too hot. Too sensitive. The sound of her own breathing, her own heartbeat, filled her ears with a rhythmic pounding that matched the pulse of the establishment. She licked her lips, chasing the taste that still lingered on them.
Then she blinked.
The patrons had changed. So had the number of waitresses. She had been so engrossed, that she had missed it. And yet, she had a hard time focusing. The waitress that served her stood next to her again, looking down on her.
Mitsuko gazed up at her, a small smile forming on her lips.
"I-I think I need to go," Mitsuko whispered, her voice barely audible over the pulsing music and the murmur of conversation around her.
"But, darling," the masked waitress leaned closer, her mask coming dangerously close to Mitsuko's nose, "you haven't had your appetizer yet. Don't you remember? You ordered our special."
Mitsuko felt a wave of heat wash over her, an invisible tide that swept away the protest that wanted to form. Instead, she found herself nodding, a small, almost helpless gesture. She glanced at her empty glass, the rim still gleaming wetly in the soft light of the booth. Her throat tightened.
"I suppose you're right," Mitsuko agreed softly, her eyes flickering up to the waitress and then back down again.
"Good host," the waitress praised, and a jolt of something electric coursed through Mitsuko at the words. Her hands trembled slightly, her breath hitching as the waitress took the glass up to her nipple. And filled it with precise squeezes, for the first time. As she watched, Mitsuko's own breasts seemed to respond. Her nipples pressed painfully against her clothing, sensitive to the slightest brush of fabric against her skin. Her mouth felt parched.
The masked waitress set the filled glass in front of her and waited. Mitsuko hesitated, her fingers twitching against the smooth tabletop before they curled around the cool surface. She picked it up slowly, her grip unsteady as she lifted the glass to her lips and began to drink, the white liquid flowing thickly onto her tongue. She moaned as the flavors exploded against her tastebuds. A rush of sweetness, a hint of something richer that she couldn't quite define.
And the warmth. Oh, the warmth that suffused her, spreading outward from her core to her limbs in a languid, sensual tide. She could feel it in her fingertips. In her toes. Even the tips of her hair felt like they were alive. It was almost too much, the sensations overwhelming in their intensity. Mitsuko took another deep, long sip. And then another, not caring about the sounds that escaped her lips. Or about the growing pool of wetness between her thighs that had little to do with sweat.
When she finally finished, setting the glass back down on the table, Mitsuko felt lightheaded, her thoughts foggy and disjointed. Her gaze was fixed on the masked waitress, the blue lights within the narrow slits seeming to pulse with their own rhythm.
Mitsuko blinked.
Drooling she stared at the tantalizing, shifting forms glossy black and rainbow liquid. Dimly she acknowledged that the clients had changed again. Even though she just sat down. A small shudder rippled through her at the sight. She licked her lips, suddenly aware of the lingering taste of milk there, the warmth still spreading through her body, and the ache between her legs.
"Welcome," a new masked waitress said, their voice soft yet commanding.
Mitsuko couldn't help but look, her eyes drawn to the sleek contours of the figure before her.
This waitress wore an even tighter latex costume that seemed to melt and mold against her skin. It glistened in the low light. A deep, iridescent blue that shifted hues with every subtle movement. It hugged her body so tightly that it was almost like a second skin.
Mitsuko could see every curve, every dip and swell of the figure's body beneath the shimmering fabric.
"Would you like to have a taste of our wonderful appetizer," the waitress asked. The waitress arched their back and pushed her breasts out towards Mitsuko, the movement causing the fabric of their costume to strain against her curves.
"Please," Mitsuko breathed.
"Very well," the waitress said and pushed her chest forward. She placed the rim of the glass against one of her nipples, and with practiced ease, expressed the creamy milk. It was warm. Thick. It pooled at the bottom of the glass before slowly filling it up.
The masked waitress set it down on the table.
Mitsuko lifted it up. And drank. Slowly, savoring the creamy taste and warmth as it slid down her throat. She drank it all. And licked the glass. Then, she set the glass on the table and smiled up at the waitress, her lips slightly parted and gleaming.
She blinked.
Drool slipped from her chin. Her body pressed into the seat. Wetness soaked through her panties. Mitsuko felt hot. She squirmed. Her skin tingled. She rubbed her thighs together. A waitress purred into her ears. The words too complicated for Mitsuko to comprehend. So she nodded. Looked at the white liquid exploding from massive, colored breasts. Her hand curled around the glass. And she drank. Sensations exploded in her mouth. Loud moans escaped her lips, as wave after wave of fluids squirted out from her throbbing cunt.
And then she blinked.
And stared.
She sat on the plush red fabric of her booth. An empty wine glass stood on her table. Drool flowed freely from her mouth. As did wetness from between her legs.
"Welcome, host. Can you please answer the following question? When did you arrive?"
Mitsuko's eyes widened. Her mind struggled to focus on the question, to push past the haze and remember when she arrived.
"Just now," Mitsuko said, her words slurred. She blinked, her mind struggling to hold onto the memory. The heat, the sensations, they were all-consuming.
The masked waitress hummed. A pleased noise. "That's right. You just arrived. And did you have one of our appetizers?"
Mitsuko shivered at that word. Phantom sweetness filled her mouth. Her clit pulsed with need.
"No," Mitsuko answered. The answer felt right. And yet, why did she crave this mysterious appetizer so badly?
The waitress hummed again. "That's also right, dear host. What a good host. Why don't you try our delicious appetizers?"
"Yes," Mitsuko said, and licked her lips. Drool spilled from the corners of her mouth. She leaned closer to the waitress. "Yes. I would love that."
"Very well, dear host. But the appetizer can only be given in our staff room. If you would follow me," the masked waitress said.
Mitsuko's vision blurred for a moment, but then the waitress took her hand, and Mitsuko let her pull her to her feet and lead her to an area in the back. She couldn't tear her gaze from the mesmerizing movement of the latex-like costume. It was hypnotic. Her skin tingled at the sight. And her pussy drooled. They stopped before a closed door, and the waitress leaned close, her blue glowing eyes pulsing.
"Do not worry about the time, dear host. We will make sure that you get the best service. Please relax and enjoy yourself. You can leave whenever you wish. But you don't," she purred, the blue glowing eyes staring at Mitsuko.
Mitsuko nodded. The masked waitress pulled a key from somewhere and unlocked the door.
And then they stepped through the threshold into a different space altogether.
The lighting here was softer, dimmer. The air smelled sweet and musky at the same time. It clung to the inside of Mitsuko's mouth. Made her tongue tingle.
The waitress posed her in the center. "Don't move, dear host." And then the woman stepped back, reaching for a silver mask. She presented the inside to Mitsuko.
Barely aware she noticed a moving black liquid, thick and slimy, on the interior.
"Put it on," the waitress said. The command washed over Mitsuko like a warm breeze. She reached out, took the offered mask and lifted it up. The black fluid reacted, stretched out into a phallic shape. And pressed against her mouth. Her lips parted, and the phallic tentacle pressed in.
The fluid slid in and coated her mouth. Pressed down into her throat.
A warmth spread through Mitsuko, her skin tingling.
It slid deeper into her. The fluid pressed against her. Spread over her face. She felt her cheeks grow hot, her breath hitching as the warmth enveloped her face, her head, her insides.
It covered everything.
Mitsuko closed her eyes and surrendered to the warmth, the pressure, the wetness. She moaned, and the sound was muffled, distorted by the thick, black fluid that coated her face and filled her.
The fluid pulsed. It moved inside her, sliding in and out of her throat, and Mitsuko could only moan again as she was penetrated by this strange, thick, wet thing that seemed to press into every corner of her body and soul. She felt it press against every nerve as liquid tentacles grabbed every inch of her body.
The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and Mitsuko felt her thoughts slip away into a hazy, blissful nothingness. She could no longer tell where the fluid began, and she ended, could no longer tell the difference between her skin, and this warm, wet thing that pressed into her, filled her, surrounded her.
Her pussy pulsed and spasmed, and her eyes rolled back into her skull as the fluid filled her mouth and throat, her ass, and pussy. She was no longer aware of the world around her.
Xel-Selene shuddered awake. The process was always disorientating, the taking of a new host body. The alien intelligence stretched her awareness. Her tentacles moved and squirmed inside and outside of her body. A smile stretched the lips on the human face. Xel-Selene, began to rearrange the hosts form. It molded the flesh and transformed the bones. It pushed and stretched, and tore the muscles until the form of a voluptuous bunnygirl had formed.
The human form had proven to be so malleable to the Xel-Naga's needs. Xel-Selene shuddered as the new nerves connected inside the unrecognizable body. Her species had been at the end. Near extinction. As parasites that needed hosts of a certain degree of sapiens, their pool of hosts had aw always been small. When their original host had died out, the few remaining Xel-Naga had entered stasis, and fled into the void.
The odds that they would find new host bodies, especially in such quantity and quality, were astronomical.
Xel-Selene stretched inside and outside her body. Her nerves tingled and a moan escaped her lips. She pushed her breasts out. The hard, black nipples stretched towards her fellow Xel-Naga. White droplets already falling.
"You look delectable, Xel-Selene," Xel-Larr said, her own costume stretched around the generous curves of her form. Her fellow Xel-Naga stepped forward, her movements slow, languid, her eyes fixed on Xel-Selene, who stood there in the center of the room. Xel-Selene shuddered as she felt her awareness spread throughout her host body. The Xel-Naga squirmed, and she felt the wetness of her milk gathering at the tips of her breasts.
"Thank you, Xel-Larr. This host has knowledge of the humans capabilities for war. And countermeasures to our plans," she replied, and the sound of her own voice was deep, throaty, the words vibrating in the air. She felt the pleasure her host enjoyed. The knowledge that it would serve the parasites well made her body tingle.
"Good. Very good," Xel-Larr purred as her eyes trailed over Xel-Selene's form.
"How is our Queen Mother," Xel-Selene asked, her tentacles wriggled with her need to meet the queen again.
"Still in stasis," Xel-Larr purred. She leaned closer, her breasts pressing against the new Xel-Naga, "We have yet to find a host for her."
Images of a statuesque blonde raced through Xel-Selene's mind. Mitsuko's memories of her Captain provided the Xel-Naga with the information it craved. Her Captain would make a perfect Queen. And the rest of the female crew would provide new hosts.
"We have the perfect host for her," Xel-Selene purred. "The best of humanity."
Xel-Selene followed Xel-Larr to the stasis chamber. While Mitsuko drowned in bliss, as she forgot who she was. Mitsuko was a host of the Xel-Naga. And it tasted wonderful.













