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“What a fucking slut—such a dirty fucking whore!” Jean moaned. She brought a tentacle up to Betsy’s face, but didn’t take advantage of her open mouth. Instead, she just let it hover there. “Give it a kiss, Betts… thank all these tentacles for how they’re fucking your dirty holes!”

The other woman laughed as Betsy, gorgeous and cock-drunk, pushed her pretty face up to the tentacle and kissed it. Another tentacle swooped in and hosed its cum all over Betsy’s bowed back. Betsy shook with degradation at the idea of how she must look, a tentacle fucking her ass while she kissed another and a third emptied its seed all over her squirming body. The image was so depraved that Betsy buckled with a powerful orgasm.

Tentacles wrapped around her wrists, forcing her hands to clamp down on their heads. Betsy jerked them off reflexively. She rolled their leaking tips inside her soft fingers. They were webbed together from the cum that had already covered them, but the tentacles didn’t seem to mind. Their seed splattered into Betsy’s hair and across her shoulders and down the back of her neck. While they were coming, the tentacle ass-fucking her filled her bowels with another load of semen. It pumped into her anus as its cum spewed out, pounding Betsy’s face deep into the fat tentacle she was kissing.

“Grab the whore’s head! Keep her right where she is!”

More tentacles rushed at Betsy, twisting and jerking her limber body, fucking her in every one of her cum-dripping orifices. They fucked her two, three, four at a time. Betsy’s body was bent into whatever configuration the tentacles found amusing to fuck her in. They made her squat and stand and sit and lie flat. Betsy did whatever they pushed her to do, her will completely beholden to their instructions. She serviced them like a loyal animal, fucking and sucking and taking their cum with mindless submission. She had made herself a cum dumpster for Scott and now these things were showing her what it was really like to be one.

It went on for hours—Betsy lapsed into unconsciousness and when she awoke, the tentacles were still making use of her luscious, satiated body. She had her pussy double-fucked time and again. Two tentacles entered her ass at the same time and Betsy screamed like a banshee, but came repeatedly before the tentacles emptied their liquid into her bowels.

Jean was the last to use her body. By the time she took possession of it, many of the tentacles had had seconds and a few had had thirds. Jean had her all alone, though. It was only fair. Betsy had gotten Scott all to herself and now she would get his wife too.

Jean stepped up to Betsy with a strap-on in one hand and a pair of pliers in the other. Betsy babbled incoherently, having the pliers used on her sultry flesh as she sucked Jean’s cock and kissed her ass and ate her pussy. When Jean used the pliers on her labia, she screamed in agony. But she climaxed when Jean came in her mouth, drinking down every drop of Jean’s cream.

Betsy was barely conscious by then. Her pussy and asshole were stuffed full from the brutal, nonstop fucking. Her face was covered in the same jizz that leaked from her overflowing holes—it seemed to run over every inch of her skin in gluey waves. She was lying in a puddle of the same stuff that had stained all her lithe, lean body. Her long shapely legs slid wetly over the floor as she rubbed her quivering thighs together. Betsy gibbered in her sleep. Her body shook with the force of her breathing.

“Cock!” she whimpered, her voice totally broken. “Cock! I want more! I want cock!”

Jean watched the writhing slut that had once wronged her. She couldn’t remember how, really, or why it was so important that Betsy’s punishment be fucking. Maybe it was because she was a cum slave. Jean’s cum slave. And the cum slave of anyone who asked Jean to use her.

Nothing made sense to Betsy either, not even why she kept asking for cock. In her present state, she didn’t really know what it was. All that mattered to her was getting some rest. No one was fucking her now, which was bad, but she could also sleep, which was good. She felt more sore and exhausted than she had ever been in her life. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and think of nothing. She lost consciousness immediately, falling into a sleep so deep that a nuclear bomb wouldn’t have woken her. But pricks filled her dreams.

***

“Good stuff, good stuff!” Mojo enthused. “Now that we’ve introduced our new stars, we’re wasting money by keeping them all together! I want ‘em spun off! Put all of them in their own little worlds—something for everyone! Storm, ooh, she’s serious, real serious…”

He snapped his fingers together, though he was only imitating the gesture. The fat, near-boneless digits only produced a disgusting splat as they slammed against his palm.

“I know! A hospital drama! And she’s a nurse! A nurse in a tight nurse outfit! And she’s got a new patient…”

***

Ororo could tell Dr. Summers thought he was being secretive, but she could see him squeezing Betsy’s ass as he stood beside the candy-striper and read from the chart of their new patient. The monitor in the reception area had gone dark, and though their lower bodies were hidden from view by the desk, the reflection showed everything.

“Still sleeping it off,” he said, eyes roaming the paperwork as he pushed his thumb as far as he could into the groove of Betsy’s ass. “If you need me, just page me.”

“Yes, doctor,” Ororo answered. “I’ll check in on our new guest as much as I can.”

Summers nodded approvingly, though his mind was elsewhere. “Isn’t it about time for Betsy’s break?” he asked innocently, fondling her ass behind the desk.

Ororo’s fellow nurse was pushing back at his hand, grinding like he was fucking her doggy style. Perhaps I should say ‘fucking her doggy style already,’ Ororo thought.

“I suppose she could go now,” Ororo said, smiling as she took a voyeuristic peek at the reflection. Christ, he was practically fucking her already. “But let me check with the ER.”

“Don’t I owe you a cup of coffee?” Summers asked Betsy. “Let me pay you back now before I forget.”

“Enjoy your hot coffee,” Ororo told them.

The doctor turned to pick up his bag, then saw the monitor behind the desk. Ororo smiled at him in the reflection. With a start, he realized that she had seen everything he’d been doing with Betsy.

The door to the in-patient unit opened as Summers turned back to Ororo. Another surgeon called to the doctor with perfect timing. “Hey, doc, we need you. It’s a hot one!”

“Shit,” Summers muttered as he started down the hallway, bag in hands.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and make the rounds,” Ororo announced as Betsy pouted behind the desk. “You take care of any calls. Don’t leave the desk for anything, okay?”

“Yes, nurse,” Betsy answered, disappointed.

Roommates, the two were a study in contrasts. Around the apartment, wearing jeans and a loose-fitting sweater, Betsy would look years younger than her actual age, while Ororo tended to wear slacks and polo shirts, not caring how mature they made her look. In the ward, their candy-striper outfits made them equal, and as much as Ororo could appreciate the occasional reminder that she was just as young and just as pretty as Betsy, she didn’t quite like getting the same… attention as Betsy. In fact, it slightly horrified her that someone might mistake them for having the same sex drive, just because they were so close.

Then again, it wasn’t like she had a Dr. Summers to sneak off with…

Ororo went to the new patient’s room and looked in on his sleeping form, with his plastered leg raised on a sling for traction. She walked in and efficiently checked his vitals. He’d been comatose ever since he’d been brought in, but the doctors were optimistic that he’d regain consciousness soon. When he did, he’d need a friendly face to calm him down and explain what had happened, which was where Nurse Ororo came in.

Finished marking up his chart, she stopped and stood by the side of the bed. She hoped it was her there when he finally woke up. He was a handsome man, like a sleeping… well, prince, even if in the fairy tale, it was a sleeping princess who was waiting to be woken up by a kiss. That was just what he made her think of.

And, as if summoned by that thought, the man’s eyes opened. Ororo was even more drawn to him in her shock, fascinated by his face, to the curve of lines along his lips, his chin, his eyes, even his nose.

“Oh… damn,” he muttered in a friendly drawl. “I feel like… ugh.”

“You’ve been in a car accident,” Ororo told him. “You’re at Laketon Memorial Hospital, and we’re giving you the best of care.”

He looked down at the tight wrapping that kept his leg immobile. “Yeah, I can see that…” he said dazedly.

“My name’s Ororo,” she told him. With all four of his limbs broken and the fingers of his right hand largely fractured as well, she had to reach over to his left hand and squeeze it in greeting.

“Bill Talbot,” he answered, running his thumb weakly along her offered hand. It was about as much as he could move it.

“Does your leg hurt very badly?”

“No… just feels weird, all wrapped up like that… but my head is killing me. Was I drunk? I guess that would explain it…”

“It could just be a mild concussion,” Ororo said as he grimaced in pain. “It would feel very much like a hangover. Give me a minute, I’ll be right back with something to make you feel better. You just take it easy.”

“Those would seem to be my options,” Bill replied.

Ororo went to the cabinet at the other end of the room, unlocked it with her key, and took out a chemical icepack, which she bent to activate. Bill’s face lit up when she set it on his tortured forehead. He felt its chill soothing his brain.

“You’re an angel,” Bill muttered. His eyes closed and he looked like he was about to go to sleep. It was possible he wouldn’t even remember this little talk later.

Ororo was reluctant to leave, though she couldn’t quite understand why. It couldn’t be just maternal instinct. There was something else at work, something she’d never felt with a patient before--though no patient but this one had ever been so helpless, so reliant on her.

“Mr. Talbot?” Ororo asked gently, not seeking to wake him if he had fallen asleep.

He murmured in vague assent.

“We may need to put someone else in this room eventually,” she said. “I have to change the sheets on the other bed--you wouldn’t know it, but you had a roommate who was just discharged. Do you mind if I--”

Bill let out a loud snore. Well, she guessed he wouldn’t mind.

Humming a little to herself, Ororo went to the neighboring bed, stripping the soiled sheets, taking them out to the laundry chute, and coming back with fresh ones from the linen closet. She bent over the other bed to put a new pad on the mattress, and as she did, she happened to look out the window on the other side of it.

She could see Bill reflected behind her. His head was turned and he was staring at her as she leaned over the bed. Apropos of nothing, Ororo leaned further across the bed, and felt her nurse’s uniform riding up her body. She had on a pair of white half-stockings, the elastic bands tight as handcuffs on her thighs. As the dress rose up, she knew Bill was seeing more and more of her.

“Oh hell!” Ororo cursed suddenly, and acted as if her dress was caught. Reaching back with both hand, she pulled it up over her hips. Her shapely ass was left bare except for a pair of white panties, stretched tightly, even translucently, along her buttocks and into the valley between. She was wiggling it up in the air as she tucked in the far side of the new pad.

Bill could only watch as Ororo reached for the bottom of her white uniform. He looked on in awe as she hiked it even higher. Her legs parted as she leaned way over the bed, showing him the juicy pinkness of her sex with only the slightest censor of her panties, a veil that was barely even shading her pussy as it started to grow wet, plastering the scant cotton to her womanhood like a layer of gossamer.

As he watched the lips of her pussy writhing in front of him, coming in and out of focus as the material of her panties bunched maddeningly to obscure them, then stretched taut and revealed almost everything, Bill’s cock was growing under his hospital gown and bedsheets.

Reaching for the far corner of the bed, Ororo hopped up on her hands and knees. She couldn’t see Bill’s reflection anymore, but she knew he was still watching. She could feel the heat of his hard cock, its desperation to get inside her moist pussy, even from across the room.

Ororo slipped off the bed, her uniform dress sliding even higher over her hips. She smoothed it down, back to her thighs, then took an unseemly pleasure in rearranging her garters, nice and high, before she finished lowering her uniform over them. Only then did she turn around and ‘notice’ Bill looking at her.

“Oh, Mr. Talbot! Back with us?”

“Yeah,” he said, flushing--maybe she should move the icepack down to his burning cheeks, Ororo thought.

“How’s your head now?”

“It feels a lot better, thanks.”

“Do you masturbate?”