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Chairman-Senator Wilde is no longer useful to us. Ensure he never sees the light of another day.

Those were her orders. And she would obey.

* * *

Night-time at the Chairman-Senator's apartment — in the corporate complex bearing his name — held a new danger. One his rivals had dispatched after all attempts at a 'peaceful' takeover were blocked. Beneath the earth she moved, undetected.

O-200 swept through underground piping, following the map stored in her neural link. Her body boneless, malleable, well-suited to her purpose as a 'fixer of problems', or in the words of the uncultured: an assassin. She had no name, only a designation, her original moniker lost along with her once-human past. She had no family, an orphan purchased at a young age to be re-purposed. And she carried no qualms about her mission.

Her masters dispatched a coded message to the implants located in her brain stem (the only synthetic component in her body, the rest purely the product of genetic manipulation). It contained details on her target. Information on his location, home security systems, and a deadline for termination. Before sunrise. Whatever means you see fit to use. There should be no trace of our involvement.

O-200 had not been assigned a mission for weeks now. She was glad her masters hadn't forgotten about her.

She reached a junction point where the narrow pipe branched into the main sewers. Finally, she thought, I can stretch out a bit. Emerging from the passage, her body began to re-form. No more a shapeless blob, she expanded back out to two arms, two legs, and a head. Your typical biped. She'd never be mistaken for human, however, as the moist, pale green skin and long suckered tentacles where hair should be could attest to.

O-200 took a moment to relax and get her bearings. Travelling from one end of the megacity to the other through its underground pipe network was tiring. And dark. Fortunately, she could afford some light in her temporary hidey-hole. Patches on her skin glowed with bio-luminescence, illuminating her surroundings to a comfortable minimum. The advantages of being spliced with the genetic material of an octopus were numerous, and she always liked being her own night-light. Breaking the surface of the water, she floated in the low light. Her lips, tongue, aureolae, and nether-lips — ringed with stubby tentacles — glowed the brightest. The rest of her bio-luminescent parts emitted a duller (but no less exotic) bluish-green light.

Currently three blocks away from her target, who was scheduled to be dead by dawn at the latest. Her stomach rumbled as she prepared herself. I'm hungry, I should have time to find a snack…

The megacity sewers were teeming with a variety of aquatic life, including some other formerly human beings; altered, like herself. She'd never had more than a brief encounter with them, though, and another of her particular species did not exist. She could hope for friends another time. Right now what she really wanted was a nice juicy fish to fill her belly before beginning her work.

Closing her eyes, dimming her lights, and sinking into the deep of the junction, O-200 listened for the tell-tale vibrations of her dinner. It was hard to discern fish movements from the ambient rumblings of the machinery that maintained the metropolis above. Fortunately, she had honed her aquatic ears to the point where she could reliably catch fish in these underground waters.

No luck. Zip...zilch...nada! Today was off to a bad start. Hmmpf, she said to herself, I really wanted a nice fishie. Guess I'll have to try again closer to the bad man's house.

Returning to her journey, O-200 squished back into the pipe system. From the current junction to the next would take ten minutes, but there was a maintenance access point to the underground there. Hopefully that meant a better chance at a meal.

Arriving at the second junction, she burst out of the water and onto the side pavement. Standing up, dripping wet, she stretched and sighed. Webbed feet slapped the cold concrete, smooth nail-less toes wriggling as the water drizzled from her frame. One of the quirks of her octopus characteristics was (obviously) no skeletal system. How she maintained her form then, was an ingenious piece of bio-engineering. She could harden key muscle strands inside her body to create a kind of pseudo-skeleton, enabling the genetically-modified assassin to switch between strong and mushy at will.

Re-igniting her bio-luminescence, she scanned her surroundings for prey. Spotting a rat on the far side of the chamber, she slid carefully back into the water, dimming her lights again, preparing an ambush. Mr. Rat looks very tasty!

Creeping ever closer, with the 'Jaws' theme tune playing in her head, she licked her large porn star lips. Unbeknownst to the rat, she had covered the distance between her starting position and its platform. Ready to strike.

Gotcha!

With a splash and a splat O-200 caught the rat. The struggle was short. The frightened rodent squealing as it was drawn into her mouth. A sickening crunch as O-200 chewed through its lower half, blood running down her face. The animal thrill of the hunt deep-down inside the genetic hybrid manifested in a feeling of pure joy as she greedily gobbled the unfortunate creature.

The rat's head disappeared between her pillowy lips as she sucked down her meal, an audible swallowing noise marking the last gulp. Her post-kill afterglow intensifying.

Her chest and mouth were covered with rat's blood. O-200 wasted no time in lapping up the remains of her prey, cleaning herself. Mr. Rat was so yummy, she thought to herself, licking her unnatural lips with her inhuman tongue once more. She ran her hands down her sides towards her belly, still feeling the meal settling in her stomach. It would be best to wait a short while before moving on, so that rodent's skeleton in her stomach was dissolved enough to make passage through the pipe network a lot more comfortable. Mmmm... __d_ on't wanna get cramps!_

A rumbling tummy teased the hybrid creature, resulting in a burp as the rat's structure dissolved quickly in her supercharged digestive system. All that remained was a formless mass that let her contort her belly. At last! She knew it'd been a quarter-hour since stopping, but she had plenty of time to reach her target. O-200 slipped into another pipe, compressing herself and sliding through the tight entrance. The last part of her — a slippery foot — disappeared down the drain as she moved on. Passing through the pipe network was easy, she could use the solid walls to accelerate to a decent speed when swirling through this aquatic underworld. It was second nature.

Her neural link buzzed. More information. Goodie!

The layout of the apartment complex was refined by the new data received. O-200 discovered a potential way in. This made her smile, normally she would have to spend time scoping out the premises, probing for weak points. It seems her masters already found a way in, they must be so clever!

* * *

Angela Wilde — wife to the Chairman-Senator — roused herself from bed and sighed. It was the middle of the night, and she had a pressing engagement in a couple of hours. Work never ended for her or her husband...the arrogant demands coming out of the overcity, drug riots in the servile district, the unsolved murder of an officer in the cybernetics squad...it all weighed down on them. She helped her husband as best she could, filling in for important meetings and signing agreements with the corporate controllers. Yet it was never enough to feed the hungry city.

Brushing her husbands chestnut hair, she placed her feet on the floor, feeling the rough-bristles of the carpeted surface. She wore only a pair of panties, no bra. The Chairman-Senator enjoyed a good fondle, and she didn't want to lose him to the kind of dressed-up harlot who hung around official gatherings. Best not delay, she told herself, they're expecting me.

She walked across the room, reminding the automated lighting to stay off with an assertive whisper. The bathroom beckoned. She needed to look good. A shower should suffice.

* * *

O-200 popped open a small metal grate, which provided access to a large body of water right where her target's home should be. In fact, it was slap-dash in the middle of the apartment — an indoor plaza, graced with well-maintained plants and decorative stonework. At the centre of this piece was an angular, shimmering monument. Water flowed from on high and cascaded down its surface in a rush of noise and splashing — perfect cover for her entry. O-200 swam into the pool, taking in all the beautiful colours...the craftsmanship that she did not have the capacity to understand, but was mesmerised by it regardless. Thin neon lights lined the opening above her, emanating a warm glow.

Her exit from the megacity sewers led her straight into the Wilde household thanks to the new advice her masters provided. This plaza was a blind spot for security as it lay within the apartment building. No guards patrolled. They tended to stick to the perimeter of the property and its exterior shell. Still, O-200 was cautious; she didn't want to disappoint her masters. This place was bound to have cameras, and sensors, and all sorts of fun and exciting stuff.

Breaking the pool's surface, the octopus hybrid rose slowly. Eyes glanced furtively at her immediate surroundings as her body moved above the waterline. Her invertebrate frame hardened into a cohesive figure once more, flesh wobbling as the last changes to solidify took place. She looked down and giggled. Her breasts shook, as did her ass and fatty thighs, which caused her amusement. Her left leg rose, sopping wet, and her suckered foot squelched onto the poolside, webbed toes broadening their spread. Quickly, she hoisted the rest of her body up, standing momentarily at the water's edge, admiring the surging waterfall behind her with an over-the-shoulder glance. I wish I lived in a place like this, she thought, envying her target's lot in life. What she'd give to not dwell in the dinge and darkness beneath...it wouldn't bear thinking...if her masters willed it, the city would be littered with strangled corpses should they offered her this bounty.

Her muscles settled into their more sinewy form. O-200 stretched, closing her eyes and enjoying the feel of enough space to swing a cat. She wondered where that phrase came from. Why would you ruin a perfectly good supper like that? It was just like what the only cogent memory of her human past stated: don't play with your food!

She walked to the end of the plaza, wet footprints tracking behind her. Those would evaporate without a trace, so she wasn't concerned. No, she wanted to find the nearest access point and disable the security in the rest of the apartment. She was on what appeared to be the lower floor — another atop her position could be sighted from the expansive opening the plaza created in the building.

Her neural link reached out, grasping for the remote connection point, battering down the meagre firewall and inserting her thoughts into the computer system. With eyes shut, and numbers and diagrams of many colours flashing before her, she concentrated. O-200 didn't know what they meant, only that if she repeated certain actions drilled into her subconscious there would no longer be any invasive security measures to ruin her day. She raised a hand, poking the air. An outline of the security console appeared in her mind's eye, suspended in the empty space. Beep...boop...beep, she mouthed, pushing buttons — smacking her thick lips when forming each silent word as the moisture from the pool continued to drip from her.

Onlookers would think it depraved, her sexualised form...modified beyond all normality...a ghastly reminder of the path this world took; this...creature from the underworld, sent to kill.

But there was no audience to witness her infiltration. An electronic flicker in the security system. A scrambled image on the cameras. O-200 remained a mystery to her target.

Opening her eyes, she let a smile form, curving her soft jawline. The plaza splashed noisily with the rush of water. The octopus hybrid stepped across the cold tiles. The south wall loomed. Looking up, she studied the make of the structure. Her insightful instincts gave plenty of advice, buoyed by regular scans from her implants. She could climb, and reach the third floor, without tripping sensors or alerting private security patrols.

A suckered hand pressed against the surface, the round fleshy rings squeezing...forming a tight seal between her palm and the wall. She tugged her arm. Two quick jerks. Her hand stayed where it was. Goodie, she thought, I can climb.

Another hand, then her head-tentacles, made contact and attached themselves. The inhuman infiltrator scaled the side of the wall, carrying her hefty body up the building with ease. Her arms jutted out first, leading the way, followed by a morass of tentacles wriggling and grasping to find purchase on the smooth concrete. Feet came after, scrabbling to hold her weight.

First floor. She peeked to each side, checking the large clear windows to her left and right.

Empty...

O-200 resumed her ascent. The next floor hoved into view. She began to pant from exertion, feeling the toll her climb had on a half-empty stomach. Hungry already? she whined, a pained expression covering her face. As if on cue her stomach rumbled. Ugh! Not now! She gritted her fused teeth and surged upwards, reaching the edge of the third floor before long.

With a swish she threw her head-tentacles to the edge, catching on the lower balcony. Finding them taut, she held on tight and shimmied up the remaining wall. Her eyes blazed with purpose. To hold herself in place while she freed her arms, her pussy kissed the cold stone. Its powerful suction let her free her limbs, while the short bumpy tentacles ringing her nether-lips writhed around the seal. She bit her lip, pangs of pleasure running through her as her sensitive muscles flexed. This moment of self-pleasure didn't last long, however, as she heaved herself up the balcony, over the railing and collapsing in a wet, squicky heap.

A couple of seconds passed for her to catch her breath, and gather strength. Her alien eyes shifted side-to-side in acute awareness of her surroundings; the subtle tingling of her pussy after the climb weaning her off of the aches of her effort. She crouched, ready to pounce if discovered. She closed her eyes once more and placed her hands flat on the floor. The room rumbled. Sounds of pipes, utilities, and life resounded through the structure, culminating in a cosy vibration beneath her palms. O-200 studied the sensations, augmenting her mental map of the complex with real-time information.

The path to the Chairman-Senator's bedroom lay clear...it was hers to take...

Wait!

Someone's coming, her senses screamed. Hide!

In rapid succession, the hybrid creature leaped across the room and rolled behind furniture — an old oak mantelpiece. She pressed her body tight against the small corner, squashing her form to fit the outline. The sounds of steps approached. Soft...pitter-pattering...

A woman with dark blonde hair entered the room.

* * *

Angela Wilde walked from the shower to the rec. room quietly, hoping not to wake her husband. She felt refreshed after the shower — grogginess driven from her mind and body. The woman marched over to the drinks cabinet, and fixed herself a small gin. One gulp of the dry spirit left her throat parched. Unsated, she poured herself another...and another...anything to keep the stress of a new day down. She belched unceremoniously, then put away the drink and shut the cabinet door. Right before leaving the rec. room, she adjusted her towel. By now she was mostly dry. She walked to the far side of the room, temporarily dulled by the alcohol.

* * *

O-200 watched the pretty lady from afar. Watched as she had a drink, her bare body clad only in a towel. Something about her amazed the stranger. She looked in awe at the beautiful woman, every motion slowed to an eternity as her neural link processed her visual feed. A burst of recollection shot through her. She wondered what caused it — faint, blurry images...memories of once being different. Did she think she might one day grow up to be like her? Beautiful?

O-200 curled a tentacle around her finger, toying with the appendage as she observed.

Alerted to her lucidity, her cybernetic implants dosed the octopus-girl with a cocktail of stimulants, laced with memory-erasers. Her masters had a purpose for her, and no vestiges of humanity was to be left free and unaltered. Obey. Obey...

Curiosity turned to desire. She had time, right? Time to deal with her?

Before she could form another thought, her link buzzed. New information flooded her consciousness — including identification:

ANGELA WILDE

[spouse/Chairman-Senator]

Bad man's wife. She was a target also.

Angela — now the subject of evil intent — passed O-200's hiding spot and in an instant — a blur of mottled green and blue — she'd been seized. Cries for help were silenced by broad fleshy tendrils, constricting around her neck and face. Terrified, she came face-to-face with the intruder, and beheld the creature holding her...

What the fuck!?

The humanoid cephalopod returned her fearful look with blankness, its yellow slit-pupiled eyes staring into the abyss of her terror. Studying her response. Her heart thumped, crashing around inside her chest. Her mouth muffled, and tentacles coiling around every inch of her body, left her at the creature's mercy. Genemods were illegal in the overcity — Level 10 Public Contraband — and this person, this... thing...was modded to hell!

The Chairman-Senator's captive spouse struggled to free her arms from O-200's damp grip. Her frail human form was no match for the enhanced musculature of the mutant. Gradually, under the pressure of the tightening tentacles, she went limp. Lungs starved for air. Lowered down safely — lest she make a noise — O-200 brought her victim to kneel.

Angela looked up at her captor, pale-faced fright having drained her of all colour. The gooey, dripping female figure of the assassin brought images of monsters to the fore. Inhuman. Alien. She was going to die — she knew it. No-one spent that kinda money on a super-strong, gene-spliced infiltrator without signing off on kill orders. No-one.

I would be a futile endeavour to try and list those who had it out for her and her husband. The megacities weren't kind to anyone, and her own sins were legion in pursuit of power. No, she was a dead woman, and there was no point in arguing that fact.

Would this...octopus...even understand mercy?

A minute passed, one of tense immobility. Angela saw the creature's lip curl, revealing a solid wall of teeth-like chitin. Sharp...capable of crushing strength, pointed where canines would be on a normal human. It glowered at her, the curve continuing, forming a despicable smile.

* * *

O-200 relaxed her grip, letting her prey breathe. Hearing the hoarse wail of the Chairman-Senator's wife left her satisfied she wasn't able to cry for help. Mmmmm, she thought, resisting the urge to lick her lips, pretty...

Uncoiling her, she jammed a squishy finger against the woman's lips, uttering a spine-chilling 'shhhhh'. Mrs. Wilde looked resigned to her fate, and O-200 didn't know how to respond to that. How did her previous missions go? Those were locked away now, deep in her enslaved mind, property of her masters. Grrr! Why won't they ever let me remember!?

She thought about wringing her neck there and then, snapping the delicate bone structure...hearing a crumple and crack of weakness as it disintegrated in her hands. But she was annoyed by her master's refusal to let her bask in even a shred of remembrance. She just had her orders: whatever means you see fit to use. And very little guidance on the matter of a live hostage.

Oh well...pretty lady needs to go...

As much as her sick sense of self-satisfaction spurred her to kill, there were other ways she liked to enjoy herself. One of them soon became clear as she guided the kneeling Mrs. Wilde towards her groin, stubby, tentacled labia reaching out and brushing her face as she hovered inches from her moist pussy.

Her captive knew what she wanted, and followed her implicit order to taste.

A jolt of pleasure rocked her body as her tongue touched her nether-lips. O-200's breasts shook, wobbling in tune with her staccato breathing...the burning, tingling sensation travelling throughout her whole body, sparking her senses with joyous feeling.

“Ooohh-aahh!" The first audible remarks made by O-200 since emerging from the city depths came after a particularly delicious stroke of the human's tongue. Her hungry octo-pussy gulped and sucked. Those short tentacles surrounding her treasure — on average five inches long and quite girthy — wriggled over her face and head, attaching their suckers to her skin — marring her flesh with circular crimson bruises. Angela found herself on unsteady ground, and swung her hands behind O-200, catching the full cheeks of her ass and holding on for dear life. The hybrid's nerves fizzled with rolling waves of pleasure as she was eaten out.

Pretty lady feels good!

Fighting her instincts, Angela gave it her all — slick ministrations tending to the swollen meat in front of her. Breath tickling her yawning cavern. Maybe, just maybe (she thought), if she made O-200 feel good she'd let her go. Fear of dying had given way to adrenaline. She rationalised her hope. It wants him, not her...yeah...

There were always other men with means.

She might've been right, if O-200 were anything other than a genetically-modified living weapon indoctrinated to the point of infantilism.

O-200 spent awhile revelling in the feeling of the human nibbling at her sensitive folds. The warm flesh swelling from her cleft ran thick with blood, and heat; her labia and clitoris set aflame. Her vaginal lips pursed and winked 'neath the assault of her captive's stabbing tongue.

The mutant cephalopod threw her head back, large tentacles flying overhead with their owner swimming in blissful seas. Her prey's mouth surprised her — the lady knew her way around a pussy, and paid no mind to her alien appearance. After the initial shock, that is...

“More...mu-muh...YES!"

O-200 clamped a hand over her own mouth, shock running 'cross her face. Did she really let a loud cry escape her? Foolish! She resolved to keep her mouth shut, and her moans low, lest she alert someone nearby. She returned to the throes of pleasure emanating from between her legs.

Minutes passed, minutes held in agonising purgatory. O-200 was close — she could feel her nerves tingle...her body shiver...the signs of her peak approach...

N-not yet! she murmured silently, pretty lady feels soooo gooood! I want more!

MORE!!!

With her body wracked, and soon to be shaking, she got rougher with her prey. Her nether-tentacles probed harsher, gripped harder, stuck tighter; until the woman's face was a mess of bruises. She kept licking, and tussling her folds. A vain attempt to curry favour. Wriggling appendages navigated past her hairline, the coarse feel of those strands an unexpected sensation. O-200 heaved, inhaling sharply, a furtive gasp rushing past her clamped jaw. Yes—YES!

Undulating muscles quivered, opening her wide. Her canal flexed and stretched, expanding in girth without her conscious control. A spike of pleasure ran through her, weakening her limbs. She moaned softly. No protest came from below.

O-200's jaw loosened, going slack as her head swayed.

Nether-tentacles squirmed, holding fiercely onto Mrs. Wilde's head. They reached far — farther than before. Much farther. Fat stubs of flesh, puckered with suction cups, covered her skull. Over time, they took over, covering her, drawing her flush with her body. A wild, jerky motion. A twitch of muscle. Rapid struggle in a weakened state. Soon, her makeshift maw pressed tight against Angela's head.

Her breasts jiggled, rocking in time with her breathing. The genetically-modified humanoid let great gulps of air pass between barely-stifled utterances. Her body demanded more...more tightness, more girth, to satisfy her stretchy self. Stiff nipples poked the air. The atmosphere grew tense. O-200 let her instincts, her body's own urges, guide her. She lost control of her finer functions. Bio-luminescent patches glowed, presenting a pale green-blue lightshow to the proceeding events.

O-200 brought a hand to her face, a faux sense of shame titillating her. Oh my! she thought, what if someone sees me?

Her giggles were lost on Angela, who found it hard to breath with nose and mouth submerged in her captor's flesh. The hot, moist cavern groped at her skin. Every inch of the monster's flesh seemed to stick and pull. Her mind had well and truly gone.

O-200's shivering mass quickened. Yes...she was close. So close! She could taste the orgasm.

Her mind blanked. The hybrid's once-stable stance wavered, shaking under the weight of her climax. Extremities twitched. Her back muscles went weak, softening her pseudo-skeleton. Not enough to lose her figure, but enough of a lapse to tease her. Her prey's head pressed against her pussy, her octopus-body tugging incessantly at her upper half. Squatting, she felt her skull squeeze inside. Amid the coursing orgasm she felt Angela's head disappear into her, a swarming mess of meaty tendrils dancing on her neck. The only sign of her head an uncomfortable-looking bulge in her lower belly. But she wasn't concerned. She didn't feel any pain. Her inhuman body stretched to accommodate the vast intruder.

Riding out her peak, she felt the panicked twisting and turning of Angela's head inside her. A tight seal existed between her silken entrance and her prey's neck. No air to breathe, no light to see...a fit of motion resulted. A blind, choking wave of arm and leg, desperate to be free. This merely added to her pleasure.

O-200's octo-pussy closed in around her, stealing her breath. A final bound of energy catapulted the hybrid onto her ass, smacking the ground, an unpleasant sting the only aftermath. Her prey's suffocation was complete.

Her eyes rolled back in their sockets, and jaw hung limply, while the last vestiges of her climax shot through her. She afforded herself a moment's peace.

“Mmmmmmmm..." a sated hum came from deep in the back of her throat. Almost a purr.

The night continued to pass. Her implants informed her that twenty minutes had passed. Twenty minutes of heady excitement for her...twenty minutes of horrific submission (and worse!) for her prey...

Thank you pretty lady, you made my pussy very happy.

A loud 'plop' ruined the peaceful atmosphere as she removed the Chairman-Senator's wife from her depths. A small trickle of her juices followed, spilling from the wide-open passageway in the microseconds before her muscles shrank it. Now clear of mind and body, O-200 was reminded of her mission.

Bad man.

Why was he bad? Didn't matter. Her masters said he was bad, that was enough for her. They knew everything. Their word was enough to visit her deathly touch upon the fated human.

She rubbed her breasts, her touch banishing any lingering aches. Rising to her feet, she looked at the dead woman, regarding her beauty one last time before setting off in search of her husband — the real target.

* * *

She waited, Angela's body stashed safely away from prying eyes. Waited until boredom set in, and she triggered an alarm clock in the Chairman-Senator's room with her neural link — now feeding her data from every corner of the apartment.

She waited. Observing.

If the sound of footsteps did not alert her, the ghostly images on the night-vision feed from his own security cameras would. O-200's eyes remained closed as she watched the Chairman-Senator from nearby. Her heart beat faster the closer he came.

The pristine white of the bathroom lit up when it sensed his presence. Groggily, he shuffled into the bathroom, half-dressed. His appearance a sign of unpreparedness — for the day ahead, and his untimely demise...

KRISTOFF WILDE

[target/Chairman-Senator]

She watched him in-person as he splashed water on his face. From the foggy plastiglass of the shower cubicle her glare was apparent. Another victim. Another expectant smile formed on her lips.

A rattle caught his attention. Done on purpose, a bit of noise to cause him concern. The Chairman-Senator turned suddenly, seeing a shadow behind the shower door. He made a split-second decision to seek the shadow, instead of seeking help. A decision he'd soon regret.

Casting open the shower door, he was confronted with the mutant visage of the assassin sent to end him. Scattered thoughts ran through his mind, trying to make sense of the creature's presence. He soon relented, giving in to the fact on of his enemies finally got the drop on him. But there may yet be time—

Reading him like an open book, O-200 took quick action to prevent his successful escape. After all, the silent alarm button was a short dash away. He might get to it and ruin her plans! The instant he looked ready to bolt she grabbed her breasts and squeezed. She gasped in delight. Jets of black ink spurted from her nipples, spraying him and coating his face in a film of sticky, viscous oil. Blinded, he stumbled backwards, crashing against the sink before collapsing to the floor. Horrified, he tried to push himself across the wet floor,

The octopus-girl stepped out of the shower, tits oozing ink. It dripped down her fat breasts, falling in a drizzle once free of her form. O-200 looked at the scared and confused man, her ink holding fast, sheathing him in darkness.

She pounced!

Landing atop him, she trapped him against the floor. A sudden force struck his head, throwing him into a daze. In her mind there was nothing left to do but complete her mission — fun-times were over, now she had to do her job. Bad man. M __y m_ asters want me to kill you._

Just like his late wife, she coiled around his body, her grotesque nakedness smothering him. She straddled her new prey, listening to the wheeze of his lungs as he fought to breathe underneath her. O-200's low moans would be the last thing he'd hear...her alien skin the last thing he'd feel...

The idea both amused and encouraged her.

Forming an array of tentacles over her shoulders, resting on her as the weight of dry land dragged them down, she leaned toward him. Her breasts draped across his chest as she moved up his body. The first of her head-tentacles slithered up his throat, and found his colour-drained lips. Prying them open, it found its way inside, pushing its mass of thick, suckered flesh deep. Several more followed. They were too tough to bite, and rushed past his useless teeth...more and more finding there way inside. He thrashed beneath her, arms and legs rolling about. She did not stop. His throat was filled with intruding flesh, slick and sliding deeper still. In a couple of seconds he'd suffocate, a fate shared by O-200's prior victim.

O-200 flexed her hips, and ground her pussy against him. Too impatient to take him properly, she eked out an encore to her stirring concerto. The rhythmic beating matched her racing heart as she strangled the life out of him.

Her squirming tentacles wrapped around his neck, arms, and probed at his nose, eyes, and ears. They launched stabbing blows at each area. No sign of real struggle — or stifled cry for help — except the dying flails of the Chairman-Senator helpless against her might.

She pressed her remaining head-tentacles with strength, pushing them into his nose and ears. The living spears travelled far, bursting eardrums and liquidising his brain. Next, the final few thrust into his eye sockets, destroying the delicate organs and joining their writhing brethren in pulverising him from the inside-out.

O-200 enjoyed the struggle, the kick from his last frenetic moment of live. Well and truly dead, blood seeping from every orifice she'd explored, the body of Chairman-Senator Kristoff Wilde lay in a messy puddle on the bathroom floor, mixing with her ink.

The hybrid sighed.

It was all over so quickly.

...

Humans are weak.

...

She stood. The gruesome sight of her target lay there — motionless.

Boy, was that exciting! Her masters really came though with that assignment. Her foot nudged his side; the room's light flickered then shut off, which her implant told her was just a power fluctuation. She sighed. Across her feminine form select patches of skin glowed, illuminating her once again.

She paced, her feet staining the floor as they picked up blood and tracked tiny circular patterns across the tiles. She thought about both corpses, and her master's instructions. They didn't come with information on how to dispose of the bodies. Normally they were more...verbose, but perhaps they saw fit to give her a little discretion, a little...independence in how she dealt with them.

O-200 began to plan.

While pondering, her tummy rumbled. She needed fuel. Something to keep her fed. There could be many weeks before she'd be given another assignment. Months even. Years?

She shuddered at the thought. No, she knew what she was to do.

O-200 placed a hand on her belly.

...

She'd never tasted human before...