Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 1)
The main nest was still heavy with the afterglow of the day’s conversions when the first radio
crackle reached the front desk.
Two marked police cars pulled into the staff car park just after 17:50, one after the other, five
minutes apart. Not a coordinated raid—two separate welfare checks that had simply landed on
the same address.
Unit One
Sergeant Claire Brennan, 34, sharp-eyed, dark hair pulled into a no-nonsense bun, and PC Megan
Holt, 26, taller, athletic, still new enough to look slightly eager. They were looking for a missing
stag-party member whose fiancée hadn’t heard from him in twenty-six hours.
Unit Two (arriving moments later)
Inspector Helen Shaw (different Helen), 41, cool and authoritative, and PC Sophie Raines, 29,
quiet, observant, the one who noticed details others missed. They were following up on a mother-
and-daughter pair who had failed to check in with family after their spa weekend.
Karen was at reception when the first pair walked in. The scent hit them immediately—warm,
sweet, musky, already thick from a full day of fucking and feeding. Claire’s nostrils flared. Megan
actually paused mid-step.
Christ, what is that smell? Claire thought, professional mask already slipping a fraction. *It’s
like… sex. Warm skin and something richer. My uniform trousers suddenly feel too tight between
my legs.*
Karen smiled the practised staff smile, heart hammering.
“Evening, officers. How can I help?”
Claire held up her warrant card. “Sergeant Brennan, PC Holt. We’re looking for Thomas Reed and
five associates—stag party booked in earlier today. Family hasn’t heard from them. We need to
confirm they’re on site and well.”
Before Karen could answer, the second pair pushed through the doors. Inspector Shaw’s eyes
swept the lobby and immediately narrowed. A discarded netball kit bag half-hidden behind a
pillar. A faint wet trail on the marble that looked too much like something other than water. The air
itself felt wrong—too warm, too heavy, too full of the smell of aroused bodies.
Something’s off, Shaw thought coldly. *The staff look… glazed. And that smell. It’s getting into
my head. My nipples just tightened against my shirt and I don’t like it.*
Sophie Raines quietly noted the same things, plus the way the young receptionist’s thighs were
pressed tightly together.
Karen’s mind raced. *Get them out. Get them out before they see the function-room doors or hear
the moaning.*
“Of course, officers. Let me just call the manager. I’m sure we can clear this up quickly at the desk
—”
Too late.
Megan Holt had already taken two steps toward the corridor that led to the private dining room
and the main function suite. The door at the far end was ajar. For one fatal second the wet,
rhythmic sounds of multiple people fucking and the low, addicted moans drifted out clearly.
Megan froze.
Claire’s head snapped around.
Inspector Shaw’s voice went flat and dangerous.
“What exactly is going on in this hotel?”
Helen (the owner) appeared as if summoned, robe loosely belted, the silk doing almost nothing to
hide the full sway of her milk-heavy breasts or the faint shiny evidence still drying on her inner
thighs. She looked calm, almost welcoming, but her eyes were already calculating.
“Officers. I’m Helen, the proprietor. Please—come to my office. We can discuss the welfare
checks privately. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.”
They almost refused. Almost insisted on searching immediately.
But the scent was already working, and Helen’s voice carried a low, soothing authority that slid
under their training. Claire felt a slow throb start between her legs. Megan’s mouth had gone dry.
Shaw’s pulse was higher than it should have been. Sophie kept swallowing.
They followed her to the manager’s office.
The office was smaller, warmer, the air even thicker. Helen closed the door softly. Four chairs. A
low table. A silver tray already waiting with four glasses of the warm, opaque special milk,
presented as “complimentary tea—house blend, very calming after a long shift.”
“Please, sit. Drink. You’ve had a long day and the heating in this old building can be… intense.”
Claire almost refused. Protocol said never accept drinks. But the smell in the closed office was
overwhelming now—pure sex and milk and something addictive that made her cunt clench
around nothing. Megan picked up a glass first, more out of nerves than anything else.
Just tea,* Megan told herself. *Why does it smell like… cunt? Why am I suddenly wet?
They drank.
All four of them.
The milk hit like a second heartbeat.
Helen watched their throats work and smiled inwardly.
“Now,” she said smoothly, “you’re looking for the stag party and the mother-daughter spa guests.
I can assure you both groups are on site, perfectly well, and simply… enjoying the hotel’s rather
unique wellness programme. Deep relaxation. Full sensory immersion. They asked not to be
disturbed, but of course we take welfare checks seriously.”
Claire tried to focus. The milk was already blooming between her legs, heat spreading, her clit
starting to pulse in time with her heart.
*Fuck, I can feel how wet I am. My knickers are sticking to me. The manager’s robe is open
enough that I can almost see her nipples and I want to… No. Focus. Missing persons. Do the job.*
Inspector Shaw’s voice was still steady, but lower.
“We’ll need to see them. Speak to them. Confirm they’re here of their own free will.”
“Of course,” Helen replied. “I’ll arrange escorts so you can conduct a full, lawful walkthrough of
the relevant areas. We have nothing to hide. In fact, I insist you see everything—properly. With
senior staff accompanying you to ensure procedures are followed and no guest privacy is
accidentally breached.”
Sophie Raines shifted in her chair. The milk had gone straight to her head and her cunt. She could
smell her own arousal now mixing with the room.
*I shouldn’t be this turned on. The sergeant’s throat when she swallowed… the way the
inspector’s breasts press against her shirt… I want to… stop it. You’re on duty.*
Helen leaned forward slightly, robe falling further open. The scent of milk and her own wetness
rolled across the desk.
“While we wait for the escorts, more tea? You all look flushed. The air here does that sometimes.
Very… opening.”
They drank the second glasses without really deciding to.
By the time Jess, Mia, Diane and Lauren arrived as “escorts,” the four officers were visibly
affected—cheeks flushed, breathing shallower, thighs pressed together under the table, pupils
dilated. Claire’s professional mask was cracking. Megan kept staring at Jess’s mouth. Shaw’s
hand had drifted to her own thigh and stayed there. Sophie’s nipples were clearly hard against her
uniform shirt.
Helen stood.
“You may look around the hotel, officers. Thoroughly. My staff will accompany you to ensure
everything remains lawful and that you have full access. I think once you’ve seen how… content
our guests are, you’ll understand there’s no cause for concern. In fact, you may find the
experience quite… educational.”
She looked at each of them in turn, voice soft and certain.
“And if at any point you feel the need to… relax yourselves… my staff are very good at helping
with that too.”
Claire rose on slightly unsteady legs.
*Something is very wrong with this place. I should call this in. I should get backup. Instead all I
can think about is how wet I am and how much I want the red-haired one to push me against the
wall and—*
Megan’s internal voice was simpler and filthier.
*I can smell how turned on the inspector is. I want to drop to my knees right here. What the fuck is
in that tea?*
Shaw kept her face neutral, but her thoughts were already sliding.
*They’re going to try something. I can feel it. The smart move is to leave and come back with a
warrant. But my cunt is throbbing and I haven’t been this wet on duty in years. One look around.
Then we leave. We have to leave.*
Sophie simply thought:
I don’t want to leave.
Helen opened the office door and gestured them out into the scented corridor.
“After you, officers. Let’s take a proper look at the hotel. Slowly. Carefully. And with full escorts, of
course.”
The four policewomen stepped out, already half-lost, the special milk singing in their blood, the
scent wrapping tighter around them with every breath.
The careful seduction had begun.
And the plan was no longer just to convert them.
It was to send them back to the station as the next vectors—addicted, dripping, and ready to
bring the entire local force into the nest.
The tour was about to start.
Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 2)
The corridor outside Helen’s office felt thicker than the office itself. The hotel’s scent rolled over
the four officers in a warm, invisible wave—skin, milk, sex, and that deeper addictive sweetness
that had already started rewriting their blood. Jess and Mia walked slightly ahead; Diane and
Lauren closed ranks behind. The formation looked professional. It was a cage made of soft bodies
and softer voices.
Claire Brennan tried to keep her shoulders square and her voice level.
“We need to see the stag party first. Thomas Reed and the five others. Then the mother and
daughter from the spa booking. Visual confirmation, brief conversation, then we leave.”
My knickers are soaked, she thought, the professional part of her mind already fighting a losing
battle. *I can feel it every time I take a step. That tea wasn’t tea. Whatever they gave us is in my
cunt now, pulsing. And the red-haired one—Jess—keeps looking at my mouth like she wants to
use it.*
Megan Holt walked half a pace behind her sergeant, thighs pressed together under the uniform
trousers.
*I can smell all of them. The escorts, the inspector, Sophie… especially Sophie. Why am I thinking
about how Sophie’s breasts would feel if I pushed her against the wall? We’re on duty. We’re
looking for missing people. So why is my clit throbbing like it’s trying to climb out of my body?*
Inspector Shaw kept her expression carved from stone, but her pulse was a drum.
*This is a controlled environment and we are being managed. I should have called for backup the
second I smelled that corridor. Instead I drank their fucking tea like a rookie. My nipples are so
hard they hurt against the shirt. One clean look at the guests, confirm welfare, extract. Do not let
them separate us. Do not let them touch us.*
Sophie Raines said nothing. Her thoughts had already started to fray at the edges.
*I don’t want to leave. I want to know what that smell is when it’s coming straight from a cunt. I
want the manager to open her robe again. I want—*
Jess stopped at a heavy double door and smiled over her shoulder, all polite staff charm and pure
filth underneath.
“Private dining room. The stag party has been using it for… team-building and wellness. They’re
very relaxed. We’ll go in quietly so we don’t startle anyone.”
The door opened.
The scent hit like a physical blow.
Six naked men and a rotating cluster of converted women lay tangled across mattresses and low
couches in a slow, heavy afterglow fuck. Cocks still half-hard and shiny. Cunts still dripping. One
of the netball girls was lazily riding Tom the groom’s face while another fed him milk from her
breast. Callum had his face buried between Mia’s thighs even as she spoke to the new arrivals.
The wet sounds were soft but constant—tongues, slow thrusts, the occasional broken moan of
someone coming again out of sheer addicted habit.
Claire’s breath left her in a short, shocked sound.
Megan’s hand twitched toward her radio and then stopped, fingers curling uselessly.
Shaw’s eyes narrowed, but her thighs pressed together hard enough to ache.
Sophie simply stared, lips parted, a visible flush climbing her throat.
Jess stepped in first, voice calm and almost tender.
“Gentlemen, ladies—police officers here for a welfare check. Just need to confirm you’re all safe
and happy to stay. Tom, love, can you look at the sergeant for a moment?”
Tom lifted his shiny face from the cunt above him, eyes completely glassy, smile dreamy and
ruined.
“Safe,” he slurred. “So fucking safe. Don’t wanna leave. Tell my fiancée… tell her I’m better here.
Tell her to come. Please.”
One by one the other lads echoed him—short, grateful, utterly lost statements that they were fine,
better than fine, never leaving, wanted their families to join them. None of them reached for
clothes. None of them looked embarrassed. One of them simply turned his head and latched onto
the nearest breast again while he spoke.
Claire forced words out.
“Mr Reed, has anyone here coerced you? Are you being held against your will?”
Tom laughed, soft and broken, and pushed his tongue back into the dripping folds above him.
“Against my will? Sergeant… I’ve never wanted anything more. Drink the milk. You’ll understand.”
Diane moved closer to Claire, close enough that the heat of her body and the thick scent of her
cunt rolled over the sergeant.
“They’re all consenting adults,” Diane murmured, voice low and intimate, almost against Claire’s
ear. “Deeply relaxed. The hotel’s programme is… intense. Sensory. It opens people. You’re
flushed, Sergeant. The air does that. If you need a moment to… compose yourself… we have
private rooms.”
*I need to get out of this room before I drop to my knees and lick the nearest cunt just to know
what it tastes like, Claire thought wildly. My uniform is going to show how wet I am if I don’t
leave. Megan looks like she’s about to come in her trousers. Shaw’s breathing is wrong. Sophie
looks like she’s already halfway gone.*
They moved on—because staying felt more dangerous than continuing.
The mother-and-daughter spa suite was next.
Catherine and Sophie-Anne (the converted pair) were still locked together on the wide treatment
bed with Lauren and two others. Mother on her back, daughter sitting on her face, grinding slowly
while a third woman fed both of them milk. The wet, rhythmic sounds of cunt on tongue filled the
room. When the officers entered, Catherine simply lifted her shiny mouth long enough to say,
voice hoarse and happy:
“We’re fine. Better than fine. Tell my ex-husband I died and went somewhere better. Don’t take my
daughter away. Please… just taste it. One taste and you’ll stop worrying.”
Sophie-Anne came with a soft cry against her mother’s tongue and didn’t even look embarrassed
that four police officers were watching.
Inspector Shaw’s voice was tight.
“That’s enough. We’ve seen them. They’re alive. We need to step outside and discuss next
steps.”
Helen was waiting in the corridor as if she had never left, robe still loosely belted, the scent of milk
rolling off her.
“Of course, Inspector. There’s a quiet staff lounge just here. Water, more tea if you need it, a
moment to collect yourselves. Then we can talk about whether you still feel a full search is
necessary… or whether you’d like a more thorough, private demonstration of how the wellness
programme works.”
They followed her because their legs no longer fully belonged to them.
The staff lounge was smaller, warmer, the air deliberately thicker. Four glasses of the special milk
already waited on the low table, this time poured into ordinary water tumblers. Soft couches. Dim
light. The door closed with a soft, final click. Jess and Mia stayed inside. Diane and Lauren took
positions near the door—escorts, witnesses, and predators all at once.
Helen poured.
“Drink. You’re all overheated. Protocol or not, you need fluids. Then we’ll talk.”
Claire’s hand shook as she took the glass.
*If I drink this I am not walking out of here the same woman. I know that. I can feel how close I
already am. One more mouthful and I’m going to let them touch me. I’m going to beg for it.*
She drank anyway.
Megan drank like she was dying of thirst.
Shaw drank with her eyes locked on Helen’s, a silent war she was already losing.
Sophie drank and let out a tiny, helpless sound as the heat bloomed straight between her legs.
Helen watched their throats work and smiled.
“Good. Now… you’re going to feel it properly in the next few minutes. The scent. The milk. The
way your cunts are already dripping into your uniform trousers. You’re still officers. You’re still on
duty. But you’re also four women who haven’t been properly fucked or eaten in far too long, and
this hotel can smell it on you.
We are not going to force anything. We are going to give you a choice that doesn’t feel like a
choice. Stay. Let my girls take the edge off—slowly, carefully, thoroughly—while you keep your
radios and your phones. You can call it in at any time. Or you can leave right now, walk out into
the car park, and try to explain to your colleagues why four policewomen smell like sex and can’t
stop pressing their thighs together.
But I think you already know which option your bodies are voting for.”
Claire’s voice came out rough.
“This is… this is still a welfare check. We are not—”
Jess stepped in front of her, close enough that their breasts almost touched, and gently took the
empty glass from Claire’s hand.
“You’re soaked, Sergeant,” Jess whispered. “I can smell you. Let me help. Just a little. Just
enough so you can think clearly again. Or deeper, if you want. Your call… but your cunt already
answered.”
Megan made a broken little sound and looked at Sophie like she was drowning.
Inspector Shaw’s last coherent thought before the milk fully took the wheel was simple and
doomed:
*We should have left. We should have left the second we smelled the lobby. Now the only thing I
can think about is how many of these women I want to taste before I forget my own name.*
Helen opened her robe completely.
“Radios stay on. Phones stay in your pockets. You remain officers until you decide otherwise. But
the tour continues… and the next room is much more private.”
She held out her hand.
“Come and see how carefully we can convert someone who still thinks she’s in control.”
The four policewomen stood there—flushed, dripping, radios still clipped to their belts, the special
milk singing in their blood—and for the first time none of them reached for the door.
The careful seduction had them.
And the nest was ready to take them deeper, one slow, irreversible step at a time.
Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 3)
Helen led them deeper into the hotel, away from the main corridors and the wet sounds of the
already-converted nests. The four officers followed on legs that no longer felt entirely steady.
Radios still clipped to belts. Phones still in pockets. Warrant cards still in their jackets. The thin
fiction of being “on duty” was the only thing keeping them upright.
The room she opened was a converted staff suite—soft lighting, wide daybed, low couches, the
air deliberately thicker and sweeter than anywhere else they had been. A small table held a fresh
tray: four more glasses of the special milk, a bottle of warm oil, and nothing that looked like
evidence or paperwork.
The door closed. Lauren locked it with a soft, deliberate click, then stood with her back to it—
escort, guard, and promise all at once.
Helen turned to face them, robe still open, the heavy sway of her milk-full breasts completely
unhidden now.
“Sit. Drink. This is still a lawful welfare discussion. You can leave at any moment. You can radio for
backup at any moment. But first you are going to admit what your bodies are already screaming.”
Claire Brennan sat because standing had become a negotiation with her own thighs. The second
the cushion took her weight she felt how completely soaked the crotch of her uniform trousers
had become.
*I can feel my pulse in my clit. Every breath pulls more of that scent into me and it goes straight
between my legs. I should be calling this in. Instead I’m staring at the way milk is beading on her
nipple and wondering what it would taste like if I just… leaned forward.*
Megan Holt dropped onto the couch beside her sergeant harder than she meant to. Her hand
brushed Claire’s for a second and the contact sent a jolt straight to her cunt.
*Fuck. I just got wetter from touching my own sergeant. Sophie keeps looking at me like she
wants to be told what to do. The inspector’s breathing is all wrong. We’re all going under and
none of us is stopping it.*
Inspector Shaw remained standing longest, jaw tight, but even she took the glass Helen pressed
into her hand.
*One more mouthful and I am compromised past the point of clean extraction. I know that. I can
feel how swollen I am, how my knickers are glued to me. The smart play is to smash the glass,
open the door, and walk. So why am I lifting it to my lips?*
She drank.
Sophie Raines drank like she had been waiting for permission. A soft, helpless sound escaped her
as the warm liquid hit her tongue and immediately bloomed lower.
Helen watched their throats work and nodded to Jess and Mia.
“Slowly. Carefully. They still have radios. We do not take those yet. We make them forget they
want to use them.”
Jess knelt in front of Claire—not touching yet, just close enough that the heat of her body and the
thick scent of her cunt rolled over the sergeant in a concentrated wave.
“You’re dripping, Sergeant,” Jess said softly, almost kindly. “I can smell how badly you need
something on that clit. I’m going to put my hands on your knees. If you want me to stop, you say
the word and I stop. If you don’t say the word… I’m going to open your thighs and show you how
good it feels to stop fighting.”
Claire’s voice came out rough and cracked.
“This is… still an official—”
Jess’s hands settled on her knees. Warm. Certain. Claire’s legs parted without any conscious
decision.
*I just opened my legs for her. In uniform. On duty. My radio is right there and all I can think about
is how close her mouth is to my cunt.*
Mia mirrored the same careful approach with Megan—hands on thighs, gentle pressure, waiting
for the absence of a “no.” Megan’s thighs fell open with a shaky exhale.
Diane moved to Inspector Shaw, close enough that their breasts almost touched.
“You’re the highest rank in the room,” Diane murmured. “That means you get to decide how this
goes. You can keep standing there leaking into your trousers… or you can sit down, let me take
the edge off, and still walk out of here an inspector. Just a very wet, very calm inspector who
understands the hotel a little better.”
Shaw’s last coherent resistance flickered.
*I am going to let her touch me. I am going to let her put her hand between my legs while I still
have my warrant card in my pocket. And I am going to come. And then I am going to want more.*
She sat.
Sophie didn’t wait for an invitation. When Lauren stepped in front of her, Sophie’s hands were
already reaching, trembling, pulling the other woman closer by the hips.
Helen poured the next round of milk and pressed the glasses into their free hands.
“Drink while they touch you. Every swallow locks it deeper. You’re still officers. You’re still free to
leave. But your cunts are already voting to stay… and to bring the rest of the station with you
when you finally walk out of here.”
Jess’s fingers found the button and zip of Claire’s trousers. The sound of the zip going down was
obscenely loud in the quiet room. Claire lifted her hips to help without being asked. The moment
Jess’s warm fingers slid under the soaked cotton of her knickers and found her swollen clit,
Claire’s head fell back against the couch with a broken, helpless moan.
*Oh god. Oh fuck. She’s barely touching me and I’m already about to come. I can feel how wet I
am on her fingers. I should stop her. I should—*
Jess rubbed slow, perfect circles and leaned in to speak against Claire’s ear.
“That’s it, Sergeant. Just feel it. You’re allowed. You’re safe. Come for me and then we’ll talk
about how you’re going to help us… or how you’re going to stay.”
Across the room the same careful, devastating attention was being given to the others.
Mia had Megan’s trousers open and two fingers gently stroking through her folds while whispering
filthy, soothing praise. Megan’s hips were already rolling, chasing the touch, eyes glassy, radio
forgotten on her belt.
Diane had simply slipped her hand straight into Shaw’s open trousers and was cupping her entire
cunt, heel of her palm pressing slow circles against the inspector’s clit while two fingers rested at
her entrance without pushing in yet—waiting, offering, owning.
Lauren had Sophie’s shirt open and was feeding her a milk-heavy breast while her other hand
worked steadily between the younger officer’s legs. Sophie was latched and sucking like she had
been starving for it, soft desperate sounds vibrating against Lauren’s nipple.
Helen watched the four of them—still in most of their uniforms, radios still present, phones still
reachable—coming apart under careful hands and the relentless double assault of scent and milk.
“This is only the beginning,” she said softly, almost tenderly. “We’re not going to fuck you
senseless yet. We’re going to make you come like this—slow, controlled, while you still think you
might leave. Then again. Then again. Until the idea of walking out of this hotel without tasting us
properly feels like dying. Until the only thing you can think about is how to bring your colleagues
here so they can feel it too.
You will leave eventually. But when you do, you’ll be ours. And the station will be next.”
Claire came first—sharp, shaking, a gush of wetness coating Jess’s fingers, a broken cry she
couldn’t swallow. She was still pulsing when Jess brought those shiny fingers to Claire’s own
mouth.
“Lick. Taste how ready you already are.”
Claire licked.
The flavour of her own cunt mixed with the milk still coating her tongue and something inside her
finally, quietly, gave way.
Megan followed seconds later, thighs clamping around Mia’s hand, forehead pressed to Mia’s
shoulder, moaning like she was being ruined.
Shaw came with her teeth gritted and her eyes locked on Helen’s, a silent, furious surrender that
still ended with her hips jerking and a flood of wetness against Diane’s palm.
Sophie came with Lauren’s nipple still in her mouth, the sound muffled and desperate and
completely lost.
Helen smiled, slow and certain.
“Good girls. Radios still on. Phones still in pockets. You’re still police officers… for now.
Drink again. Then we go deeper. Carefully. Thoroughly. Until the only investigation you care about
is how many ways this hotel can make you come… and how many of your colleagues you’re
going to bring back with you.”
She refilled their glasses herself.
The four policewomen—flushed, trembling, uniforms open, cunts still twitching—lifted the glasses
with shaking hands and drank.
The careful conversion continued.
And none of them reached for the door.
Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 4)
The four glasses emptied. The special milk settled deeper, turning the earlier sharp peaks of
orgasm into a low, constant throb that refused to fade. Uniforms hung open. Trousers were
pushed down to mid-thigh or kicked off entirely. Radios still clipped to belts. Phones still in reach.
The thin fiction of duty remained, but it was fraying with every breath of the thick, sweet air.
Helen moved among them like a calm centre of gravity, robe fully open now, milk beading at her
nipples and occasionally running in slow trails down the undersides of her breasts.
“You’re still free to leave,” she reminded them softly. “Radios work. Phones work. You can call this
in right now and walk out into the car park smelling of sex and milk. Or you can stay a little longer
and let us take the edge off properly… carefully… so you can think clearly about what happens
next. The station. Your colleagues. How good it would feel to bring them here.”
Claire Brennan sat with her trousers around one ankle, shirt open, Jess still kneeling between her
spread thighs. Jess’s fingers were gentle but relentless—two fingers slowly pumping, thumb
circling her swollen clit in lazy, perfect strokes that kept her hovering just below another climax.
I came less than ten minutes ago and I’m already dripping down her wrist again, Claire thought,
head tipped back against the couch. *I can still taste myself on my own tongue. I should be
reading them their rights or calling for a van. Instead I’m lifting my hips to fuck myself on her
fingers and all I can think about is how her mouth would feel if she just leaned in and—*
Jess leaned in.
Her tongue replaced her thumb, flat and hot, dragging a long, filthy stroke over Claire’s clit before
sealing around it and sucking in soft, rhythmic pulses. Claire’s hand flew to Jess’s hair—not to
push her away, but to hold her there. A broken, helpless sound tore out of her throat.
“That’s it, Sergeant,” Jess murmured against her cunt between licks. “Keep the radio on. Keep
your phone. Just let me eat you until you stop pretending you want to leave. Then we’ll talk about
how you’re going to help us convert the whole shift.”
Across the room the same careful, devastating attention continued.
Mia had Megan fully undressed from the waist down and was scissoring her slowly on the wide
daybed—thighs locked, cunts sliding wetly together, clit against clit in a filthy, grinding rhythm.
One of Mia’s hands fed Megan milk from her breast; the other stroked Megan’s hair like she was
soothing a skittish animal.
I’m grinding on another woman’s cunt in full view of my inspector and my sergeant, Megan’s
internal voice was glassy and awed. *I can feel how soaked she is. I can feel how soaked I am.
Every time our clits catch I see white. I should be disgusted. I should be arresting someone.
Instead I want to flip her over and sit on her face until she can’t breathe anything but me.*
Inspector Shaw was still the most composed on the surface—shirt open, trousers gone, sitting
upright while Diane knelt between her thighs and ate her with long, deliberate strokes. Diane’s
hands held Shaw’s hips gently but firmly, not forcing, just keeping her open. Every time Shaw’s
control slipped and her hips rolled, Diane rewarded her with a deeper thrust of tongue and a soft,
approving hum.
I am an inspector, Shaw thought, jaw tight even as her thighs trembled. *I have twenty years on
the job. I do not get eaten out in a hotel staff room by a suspect while my radio is still live. And yet
my hand is on the back of her head and I’m holding her there. I’m going to come on her tongue.
And when I do, I’m going to want the milk again. And then I’m going to start calculating how many
of my officers I can bring here before anyone notices.*
Sophie Raines was already further gone. Lauren had her on her back on the second couch, one of
Sophie’s legs hooked over Lauren’s shoulder, two fingers curled deep while her mouth worked
Sophie’s clit in slow, wet circles. Sophie’s shirt was open; Lauren’s free hand alternately pinched
her nipples and fed her drops of milk from her own breast. Sophie’s radio crackled once with
routine traffic; she didn’t even flinch.
I don’t care about the radio, Sophie thought, eyes half-lidded, hips rolling. *I don’t care about the
missing persons. I care about how full my cunt feels and how good the milk tastes and how much
I want the sergeant to watch me come. I want to go back to the station like this—wet, smelling of
them, and ready to pour the same milk into every cup in the canteen.*
Helen watched the four of them carefully, gauging depth.
“Not yet,” she told Jess and the others quietly. “No full nesting. No taking the radios. We keep
them coherent enough to walk out of here under their own power if they choose… but so
thoroughly addicted that the only thing they’ll choose is to come back. And to bring others.”
She stepped closer to Claire, who was shaking through a second, quieter orgasm against Jess’s
mouth. Helen cupped the sergeant’s flushed cheek and guided her face to one full, leaking breast.
“Drink while she tongues you. Every swallow wires the need deeper. You’re still a police officer.
You’re still in control of your choices. But your body already knows the truth—you want this. You
want to stay. And you want your colleagues to feel exactly what you’re feeling right now.”
Claire latched.
Warm milk flooded her tongue at the same moment Jess pushed two fingers back inside her and
curled them hard. Claire came again with a muffled cry, thighs clamping around Jess’s head, milk
spilling from the corner of her mouth.
Helen stroked her hair.
“Good girl. That’s three. We’ll give each of you one more slow, careful climax… then we’ll dress
you again. You’ll walk out of here with your radios and your phones and your warrant cards. You’ll
file whatever report you need to file. And then the hunger will start. The scent will stay in your
clothes. The taste will stay on your tongue. By tomorrow night you’ll be back… and you won’t be
alone.”
She looked at each of them in turn—Claire still latched and trembling, Megan grinding helplessly
against Mia, Shaw’s hips rolling against Diane’s mouth, Sophie moaning openly around Lauren’s
fingers.
“This is how we convert carefully,” Helen said. “Not by breaking you in one night. By making sure
that when you leave, the nest leaves with you. Inside you. In your cunts. In your heads. In the way
you’ll look at every woman in the station and wonder how she’d sound coming on your tongue
after a glass of our milk.
One more each. Then we talk about the plan for the local force.”
Jess sealed her mouth over Claire’s clit again and sucked with slow, devastating purpose.
Mia ground harder against Megan, both of them slick and shaking.
Diane pushed her tongue deeper into Shaw and hummed.
Lauren curled her fingers and licked Sophie in perfect time with the pulses of milk she fed her.
The four policewomen—still technically on duty, still armed with radios and the power to end this
—came apart again under careful mouths and hands and the relentless double assault of scent
and special milk.
None of them reached for the door.
None of them reached for the radio.
The careful conversion continued, one slow, irreversible orgasm at a time, with the station already
waiting in their future like a second, larger nest.
Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 5)
The fourth slow climax left the room heavy and quiet except for ragged breathing and the soft,
wet sounds of tongues still gently working oversensitive flesh. Helen raised a hand. Jess, Mia,
Diane and Lauren eased back at once—mouths shiny, fingers glistening—leaving the four officers
trembling, thighs open, uniforms in disarray, radios still clipped and live.
Claire Brennan lay half-reclined, trousers gone, shirt open, milk drying at the corner of her mouth.
Her cunt still twitched in small aftershocks. Jess stayed kneeling between her legs but no longer
touched, simply breathing warm air over her swollen clit so the sergeant could feel every pulse of
need without relief.
I just came four times on another woman’s tongue while still wearing my warrant card, Claire
thought, voice gone from her own head. *I can smell myself on her face. I can still taste the milk.
My radio is right there. One press and this ends. So why does the idea of ending it feel like cutting
off my own air?*
Megan Holt was on her back on the daybed, legs still loosely wrapped around Mia’s hips from the
scissoring. Their cunts were no longer locked together, but the slick evidence of how hard they
had ground against each other shone on both of them. Megan’s hand kept drifting down as if to
touch herself again; Mia gently caught her wrist and held it.
I want to flip her over and sit on her face until she drowns in me, Megan’s internal monologue
was raw and simple now. *I want Sophie to watch. I want the inspector to watch. I want to go
back to the nick smelling like this and pour that milk into every mug in the canteen. What the fuck
is wrong with me… and why don’t I care?*
Inspector Shaw sat upright again by sheer force of will, thighs pressed together, Diane’s saliva
cooling on her cunt. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes were dark and glassy. When she spoke her
voice was low and rough.
“We… need to leave. We’ve confirmed the guests are alive and… consenting. That is sufficient for
the welfare checks. Anything further requires a warrant.”
Helen smiled, soft and knowing, and refilled four fresh glasses.
“Of course, Inspector. You are free to leave right now. Dress. Walk out. File your reports. Tell your
colleagues everything is fine. Or tell them something is very wrong. Either way…” She pressed a
glass into Shaw’s hand. “Drink once more before you go. For the road. Then decide how much of
what you felt in this room you want to keep… and how much you want to share.”
Shaw drank. They all drank. The milk hit the already-sensitised systems like a second, deeper
wave—heat blooming low and constant, the scent in the room suddenly sharper, more necessary.
Diane leaned in close to Shaw’s ear, voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re soaked again already. I can smell it. When you stand up, it’s going to run down your
thighs. You’re going to walk out of here with my spit still on your cunt and the milk still in your
blood. And every time you sit at your desk tomorrow you’re going to remember how my tongue
felt. You’re going to look at the other women on your shift and wonder how they’d sound coming
the way you just did. That’s the point. We don’t need to keep you tonight. We only need to make
sure you come back… and that you don’t come back alone.”
Sophie Raines made a small, broken sound. Lauren was still gently stroking her inner thigh, not
quite touching her clit, just keeping the fire banked.
I don’t want to leave, Sophie thought, almost tearful with need. *I want her fingers back inside
me. I want the milk straight from the source. I want to bring the whole response team here and
watch them fall the same way. I want to be the one who pours the first glass at the station.*
Helen moved to the centre of the room, robe open, breasts heavy and leaking slowly.
“Here’s what happens next. You four are going to get dressed. Slowly. We’ll help. You’ll keep your
radios, your phones, your cuffs, everything. You’ll walk out to your cars under your own power.
You’ll make whatever calls you need to make. You’ll write whatever reports you need to write.
But the addiction is already in you. The scent is in your clothes and on your skin. The taste is on
your tongues. By morning the hunger will be sharper. By tomorrow evening it will be difficult to
think about anything else. And when you come back—and you will come back—you will bring
others. Quietly. Carefully. A colleague who looks stressed. A partner who needs to unwind. A
whole shift that ‘needs a welfare check’ of its own.
We are not converting the station by force. We are converting it through you. Four trusted officers
who walked in looking for missing people and will walk out as the first vectors.”
Jess helped Claire stand. The sergeant’s legs shook. Jess gently wiped her shiny mouth with the
back of her hand, then offered those same fingers to Claire’s lips. Claire licked them clean without
being told.
Mia helped Megan into her trousers, deliberately brushing her knuckles over the younger officer’s
still-swollen clit as she did. Megan whimpered and pushed into the touch for a second before
forcing herself still.
Diane dressed Shaw with almost professional care—tucking the shirt, adjusting the belt—while
leaning in to murmur, “You’re going to feel empty the entire drive back. That empty feeling is us.
It’s permanent now.”
Lauren buttoned Sophie’s shirt slowly, stopping to feed her one last slow mouthful of milk from
her breast. Sophie latched and sucked greedily, eyes fluttering, until Lauren gently pulled away.
Helen opened the door.
“Escorts will walk you to your vehicles. No one will stop you. No one will take your radios. You
remain police officers… who now belong to the nest in every way that matters.
Go. File your reports. Feel the hunger grow. And when you return, bring the station with you.”
The four women stepped into the corridor on unsteady legs—uniforms back in place, radios still
live, the thick scent of the hotel clinging to them like a second skin. Claire’s hand brushed her own
radio once, then dropped. Shaw’s jaw was set, but her thighs pressed together with every step.
Megan kept glancing at Sophie like she wanted to pull her into the nearest empty room. Sophie
simply looked back toward the lounge with open, aching longing.
They reached the cars.
Claire opened the driver’s door of the first vehicle, paused, and looked back at the hotel. The
scent was still in her nose. The milk was still warm in her belly. Her cunt was still wet and empty
and wanting.
We’re leaving, she thought. *We’re actually leaving. And all I can think about is how soon I can
come back… and who I’m going to bring with me.*
She got in. The others followed.
As the two police cars pulled out of the car park, Helen watched from the doorway with Jess, Mia,
Diane and Lauren beside her.
“They’re hooked,” Helen said quietly. “Not fully nested yet—still coherent, still able to function—
but the addiction is locked. By tomorrow the hunger will do the rest. They’ll start looking at every
woman in that station the way they looked at us. And when they return, they’ll bring the first wave
with them.”
She smiled, slow and certain.
“The local force just became the next expansion. Carefully. Quietly. One wet, desperate officer at
a time.”
Inside the departing cars, four sets of internal monologues ran in the same ruined direction:
I can still taste her.
I need more milk.
I need to come again.
I need to bring them here.
The careful conversion of the police had begun.
And the nest was already planning the welcome party for the next officers who would “just stop
by to check on their colleagues.”
Continuation – Unexpected Visitors: The Police Officers (Part 6)
The two marked cars pulled out of the hotel car park just after 19:40. Night had settled properly.
The scent of the place still clung to their uniforms, their hair, the soft skin of their inner thighs.
Every breath inside the vehicles carried a faint ghost of milk and cunt and warm skin.
Claire Brennan drove the first car. Megan sat in the passenger seat, thighs pressed hard together,
staring straight ahead. In the second car Inspector Shaw drove with Sophie Raines beside her,
both women silent for the first three miles.
No one spoke. The radios occasionally crackled with routine traffic. None of them answered
unless forced.
Claire’s hands were tight on the wheel.
*I can still feel her tongue. Every time I shift in the seat the seam of my trousers drags over my clit
and I have to bite the inside of my cheek. The milk is still warm in my stomach. I keep thinking
about Helen’s breast in my mouth and the way Jess looked up at me while she licked. I should be
writing the welfare report in my head. Instead I’m calculating how long I can wait before I have to
touch myself.*
Megan’s internal voice was rawer.
*I’m soaked again. I can feel it cooling on my thighs. Mia’s cunt sliding against mine… the way
she fed me while we ground on each other… I want to tell Claire to pull over so I can put my hand
between her legs and finish what Jess started. I want to taste the sergeant. What the fuck is
happening to me?*
In the second car Shaw kept her eyes on the road, jaw locked.
*I am compromised. Fully. I let a civilian eat me to orgasm while I was still wearing my rank. I
drank their substance four times. I can still feel Diane’s saliva drying on me. The smart move is to
drive straight to Professional Standards and report everything. The only move my body wants is to
turn the car around, walk back into that lounge, and ask them to finish converting me properly.
And then bring the entire shift.*
Sophie sat with her hands clenched in her lap, breathing too shallowly.
*I can still taste the milk. I can still feel Lauren’s fingers curling inside me. I don’t want to go to the
station. I want to go back. I want to bring someone with me so I’m not the only one who knows
how good it feels. Maybe the new PC on nights. Maybe the custody sergeant. Anyone. Everyone.*
They reached the station just after 20:15.
The building smelled of coffee, floor cleaner and stale air — ordinary, dead, wrong. The contrast
hit them like cold water and made the hunger sharper.
Claire went straight to the toilets on the first floor, locked herself in a cubicle, shoved her trousers
and knickers down and came hard and silently on her own fingers in under a minute, forehead
pressed to the cold partition, biting her own wrist to stay quiet. When she finished she licked her
fingers clean without thinking, the taste of herself mixed with the lingering memory of Jess’s
mouth.
Megan lasted until the locker room. She sat on the bench, thighs shaking, and texted Sophie from
three metres away:
I can still smell her on me. I need to come again. Do you?
Sophie stared at the message, then typed back with trembling thumbs:
Yes. Toilet. Now.
They met in the accessible toilet on the ground floor. No talking. Sophie pushed Megan against
the wall, shoved a hand straight down her trousers and found her dripping. Megan did the same.
They fingered each other in frantic, clumsy silence, mouths open against each other’s shoulders,
coming within a minute of each other with muffled, desperate sounds. When it was over they
stayed pressed together, breathing hard, the scent of their own cunts filling the small space.
This is only going to get worse, Sophie thought. *Tomorrow I’m going to look at every woman in
this building and wonder how she’d sound with milk on her tongue and a cunt on her face.*
Inspector Shaw sat at her desk with the welfare report open on the screen for twenty minutes
without typing a single accurate sentence. Every time she tried to write “guests confirmed safe
and well” her mind supplied the image of Diane’s head between her thighs and the way the milk
had tasted when she swallowed it at the peak of orgasm. She crossed her legs tightly and felt
how wet she still was.
At 21:40 Claire appeared in Shaw’s doorway. Her cheeks were still flushed. Her voice was
carefully professional and completely unconvincing.
“Reports are… drafted, ma’am. Guests are on site, appear well, no signs of coercion they were
willing to articulate. Recommend no further action tonight.”
Shaw looked at her sergeant for a long moment. Both women knew the report was a lie of
omission so large it could swallow the entire station.
“Agreed,” Shaw said quietly. “No further action tonight.”
She paused, then added, almost against her will:
“Sergeant… how are you feeling?”
Claire’s throat worked.
“Hungry, ma’am. And empty. And like I need to go back.”
Shaw closed her eyes for a second.
“Yes. Me too.”
They left it there.
By 22:30 the four of them had found separate corners of the station to come again — cubicles, a
locked office, the back of a van in the yard. Each orgasm only sharpened the need. The scent of
the hotel seemed to rise from their own skin every time they sweated. The memory of milk made
ordinary tea taste like nothing.
Just before end of shift, Claire caught Megan and Sophie near the exit. Shaw joined them a
moment later, as if pulled by the same invisible thread.
No one suggested going for a drink. No one suggested going home.
Claire spoke first, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.
“Tomorrow. We go back. Not as a welfare check. As… something else. And we don’t go alone.”
Megan nodded too quickly.
“I can bring PC Avery. She’s been stressed for weeks. She’ll drink whatever we put in front of her.”
Sophie added, almost whispering, “Custody Sergeant Blake. She’s always complaining she never
gets to switch off. One glass and she’ll understand.”
Shaw looked at the three of them — her officers, still in uniform, still carrying the authority of the
law, and already planning the quiet infection of their own workplace.
“We do it carefully,” she said. “No one who will panic and call it in. People who are tired. People
who are lonely. People who already look like they need something they can’t name. We take them
for ‘a quiet word off-site’ or ‘a welfare follow-up.’ We get the milk into them. We let the scent do
the rest. And we bring them back to the hotel before the addiction makes them reckless.”
Claire met her eyes.
“And us? Do we… finish what they started?”
Shaw’s answer was barely audible.
“Yes. We go under properly. Then we become the ones who pour the glasses.”
They stood there in the station car park for another minute, four policewomen who had walked
into a hotel looking for missing people and were now the missing people in every way that
mattered — still present, still functional, but already belonging to the nest.
The hunger was no longer a whisper.
It was a plan.
Tomorrow night the first colleagues would taste the milk.
And the local force would begin its slow, wet, irreversible conversion — one carefully chosen
officer at a time.