Colonel Caldwell breathed deeply, trying to calm his jitters under the critical glare of the assembled cabal of skeptical officers. He smoothed back his slick, blond hair, and mustered his resolve; the situation might prove even more severe than the current evidence led him to believe; the country - perhaps the World stood on a precipice if his reports were not believed, if action was not taken soon enough.
"We must remember that Air Italia flight 69 was unusually close to the location after landing on the same day at a remote airfield to make emergency safety inspections."
"Close?! the airfield on the map you showed us was over a hundred miles away from that part of the Amazon Basin, and unequipped to handle an aircraft of that size." sneered a shriveled, air-force general with a circular map of wrinkles radiating from his beady, suspicious eyes.
"The gauges had given anomalous readings, and while small, that airfield was their only option. At present, it is difficult to explain how Sorrentino and Jimenez crossed that much territory so quickly, perhaps they had help." Caldwell turned back to the screen, swelled up his chest to appear more confident as he used a laser pointer to illustrate a list of schedules.
"Consider nonetheless, that the plane was in the area at the same time, and Flight 69 apparently suffered transponder failure over an hour into the flight." The pursed-lipped colonel turned back to sweep the conference table of wrinkled brows and double-chins. "There is substantial evidence that the Infected females possess enhanced reflexes and strength, it is within the realm of possibility that acting in concert, they could have subdued the baggage handlers or maintenence workers that were tending to the 767, and could have slipped onboard in the cargo compartments. From there, I believe they found a means to hijack the flight."
"Did the Flight transmit any of the standardized emergency frequencies used to signify duress amongst the passengers or crew?" asked a hook-nosed old Admiral with especially bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows.
"Erhh...no...but..." Caldwell swallowed. "The plane's transponder was disabled under mysterious circumstances, it's conceivable that a similar agency deactivated their communications capability." The room erupted with grunts, murmurs and voices of skeptical disbelief. The Colonel paused to collect his thoughts.
Here in this hidden, underground conference chamber with three levels of personnel screening and security barricades, there were also a wide panel of view screens on each wall, allowing the assembled generals and spymasters to tap into transmissions from around the world, including the goings-on in other Black-Budget, unacknowledgable military compounds such as this. With all the secrets, mysteries, and anomalies these men had been concealing and exploiting for their lengthy careers; why did he get such reluctance? Why was there such an uncooperative attitude? This bunker, and others like it were far more secretive and secure than the fabled, "Area-51", and they contained wonders lost to the Ages that were at least as exotic as this current Outbreak. Why was Caldwell having such difficulty convincing them?
"Colonel, the majority of us remain unconvinced that this....incident, whatever its true source merits the full sanction of this Body." The thickly-joweled speaker was an old, N.S.A. hardliner leftover from the Cold-War; like several others in this room, he was officially 'dead', that he might better play clandestine games of deceit and death in an international sphere that few Americans could truly comprehend.
"I am not convinced of a connection between your Outbreak and the accident on board the Italian airliner." His southern drawl reflected his disbelief. "There are others who are capable and qualified to investigate the unfortunate...loss of Flight 69. You have more work to do if you intend to convince us to employ our own resources to investigate this issue."
Caldwell nodded. "Understandable." He removed from his briefcase a glittering compact disk which he placed in a small player. "Luckily, the subject currently in our custody, the Simcox woman was very forthcoming in my Interviews with her. I've considered the possibility that she seeks to manipulate us, but her information has been verified. She has been in direct contact with others of her kind; and there is every reason to believe that the other infected persons are perpetrating a conspiracy to spread their contamination." As Caldwell suspected, mention of the word 'conspiracy' provoked a visible shift in posture from the N.S.A. spymaster.
"From her account, and my own investigations, I've been able to piece together the last hours of Flight 69. The Simcox woman seems to be motivated by a prideful arrogance; I was able to get a detailed account because she apparently believes her conspiracy to be unstoppable. This interview should more than address your concerns, Gentlemen."
**********
It was, at its core, prideful. Sister Bellini had come to this growing understing about herself during her five years in the Order, these past years of serving the Church. But in truth she longed for the chance to prove her compassion, she had always sought out opportunities to give aid to those in dire need. But returning as she was to the Vatican on this flight...well, she should be far happier than she was. During long nights of prayerful soul-searching, she had a sense that she was spending her time aiding and feeding the destitute from the way it made her feel about herself: Pridefully smug. But she was young, and still had time to overcome her self-righteousness, and to care more fully, more completely about all the poor, lost souls she had dedicated herself to protecting.
Was it sinful the way her heart leapt when she heard the sobs, the moans from the on-board lavatory? She could hear a woman crying...sobbing from inside the tiny compartment. Who could it be? All her Sisters were accounted for; the rest of the passengers on the 767 airliner seemed to be military men. Must be one of the flight attendants; oh dear....the wracking sobs....the poor girl must be so distraught! Sister Bellini waited by the lavatory door, pensively contemplating her options. Was this concealed outpouring of emotion related to the plane's technical problems?
They'd been forced to make an emergency landing in a remote airfield to avoid engine failure; the small strip near the Amazon Basin was scarcely equipped to handle a vehicle of this size, so the beleagured technicians were shuttling to and fro outside the great aircraft; frantically attempting to expedite their maintenence, while the captain and crew wrangled with aviation authorities and arranged servicing. The inconvenient and irregular conditions on this minor airfield would complicate the mission and add many hours to the flight.
And during that time, Sister Bellini could soothe this poor, tortured soul that wept so bitterly, gently she opened the door to peer in on the girl.
'Saints preserve us!', she thought. The girl was completely nude! There was a gaping panel in the side of the wall inside the cramped washroom. Could this girl have...have somehow slipped onboard from outside? Her skin was a healthy bronze and her curvaceous body was fit and athletic. The glistening sweat that shone on her skin caused her auburn hair to cling to her scalp in a way that no doubt most men would find extremely fetching. Possibly a native Brazilian; but her nationality didn't matter: Sister Bellini would love her all the same.
"P-please...h-help me...I need..."
"Of course, Child. We will help you in any way we can!" Insisted the Italian nun, placing a concerned hand gently upon the girl's bare shoulder. Her skin was unusually warm to the touch. "What do you need? Tell me your troubles." Taut muscles near the girl's shoulder blades tensed as she shifted; her posture seemed to reflect some burden....pain? angst?
"I need you...I need someone to...to..." Was she ashamed? Why did the girl not express her need? She must be suffering some deeply-grained emotional torment.
"Suck."
"Eh...say again?" The girl had been speaking English, but that word seemed inappropriate. Was she lapsing into some native tongue?
"MY TITS!!" snarled the bronze-haired girl as she whirled around, thrusting ripe and firm mammaries into view. The aggression of her pose, the fire in her eyes made the bulging hemispheres of her canteloupe-like teats seem as menacing as they were erotic. With a speed that seemed preternatural, and a wiry strength as irresistable as the sleek eroticism of her naked flesh, Sister Bellini was pinned to the lavatory floor, the exposed breasts in question bulging into her face; a nipple rigid as wood nestled in the space between her lips.
Instinctively, the embattled nun attempted to push free, yet her arms failed to obey. As she writhed in lurid captivity with this nude madwoman, a tingling warmth seemed to spread from her hands....in her face....how bizarre; there was a hot rush of soothing comfort wherever her skin had touched the unclad flesh of the girl. There had been a moisture, no...it was not sweat, her attacker seemed saturated with something lighter, smoother, sweeter-smelling...when it touched her, Bellini felt....OH! There! A sudden jolt of electric ecstasy pummeled her brain. The nun could not resist smiling as a euphoric burst melted away fear and surprise.
Before she could find a reason not to, a primitive reflex asserted itself, and she sucked upon the proffered teat, her mouth filling with an airy liquid with the sweetness of honeysuckle, and the contentment of a pleasant dream.
"MMph...n-no...mustn't...."protested the last vestiges of decency and morality that were quickly fading from the mind of the corrupted catholic. "It is... a sin...*MPH*-*SLURP*.."
"A sin, sister?" The ripe, red lips of the girl, likely in her mid-twenties whispered mockingly to Sister Bellini. "Indeed, there has been a sin; the Great Sin of celibacy! You will understand in mere moments...."
**********
It was a small, convenient compartment where the stewardesses prepared and mixed the cheap refreshments doled out to the hundreds of passengers. Up to 450, but in this case just a little over 300. And for the moment, Lisa Sorrentino would remain in concealment here. Slipping through the guts of the ship after disabling a maintenence worker, she had arrived in this alcove to await her first prey.
The first flight attendant to fall victim was a slender italian beauty with coffee-brown hair that nearly matched her natural tan. Her only real flaw had been her small-chested figure, much like Dylsia's had once been. But now, as her student had blossomed, so too was this little gem now throbbing, moaning, ripening as her envigorated mammaries thrust themselves forth. The grunting girl was slumped against a refrigerated food-storage cabinet riding out the storm of ecstasy brought on by the fertile expansion of her bosom.
Lisa caressed her newest 'daughter' as she tore frantically at the buttons on her uniform; desperate to allow her electrified tits to breathe free. An enraged nipple was playfully tweaked....no, this one would not be precisely the same as Dylsia: her breasts were swelling into broad, ripe globes sure enough, but her aureoles were more pronounced, her nipples more pointed; these breasts tended to thrust forward more than bulge outwards. Lisa decided to thrust her tongue into the transforming woman's own mouth; to silence her yet again while her cries of forbidden lust grew louder.
This one....her name tag read MARIA, was taking a bit longer to Turn. Her boobs had already sprouted from nubs no larger than strawberries, which then widened into a diameter more like small coffee mugs, and almost ten seconds later attaining a girth just a smidgeon larger than volleyball-halves. Could she grow yet more? Her legs kicked as her skin moistened. Lisa nodded in understanding. The Over-Instinct, which she and Dylsia had named Gaia, gave her knowledge. The very touch of women like her, Women of Nature could be an intoxicating weapon, meaning that Maria's transformation was both irreversible and nearly complete.
Another test, then. Yes...Lisa slipped her hand under the dark blue skirt of the woman as she Turned, and sure enough her legs and crotch were drenched with pungeant, feminine arousal. Lisa's lips fastened upon the throbbing nipples, began to suck...and slurp, pulling and teasing with her mouth.
It took less than five seconds before she tasted it. A fragrant honeysuckle nectar with a dash of cinnamon. Euphoria flared in the former Dr. Sorrentino as she felt the distinctive touch of the infectious ovum-spores that had now dominated every cell in her body. And after the infection had run its course, Maria now manifested the same transformative nectar in her own, burgeoning boobs.
The former paleobotanist stood her conquest up on her feet, holding her steady while Maria's brain-chemistry completed the necessary changes, amidst frantic fluttering of her eye-lids. Yes, Maria would return to her duties, or appear to do so. In truth, Lisa felt it was selfish of her; she wanted to remain naked, gloriously naked as long as possible, but she would cause too much of a stir should she present herself to the humans nearby. No, she was never ashamed of her enticing, feminine bounty, but better to keep the prey complacent until it was too late to stop her and Dylsia. Still, it would not be practical to ambush 300 people, and somehow make them all suck from her nipples. Lisa (and now Maria) needed a more subtle, effecient way to convert the masses. What to do...the naked, eroticized professor scanned the surrounding shelves, cabinets, and refrigeration units....what to do... hmm....the drink tray....
**********
The big rig cargo truck ground to a halt on the gravely road. The woman fumbled in the dark, reaching for her cane....no! There was no cane! No cane, because she did not need one! And never would again! Old habits were hard to break, and the woman rose to a sitting posture on the tarp-covered crate she had been reclining on, remembering what had occured, reminding herself of the incredible changes that had befallen her.
She knew what was coming, why the truck had stopped. But still, she wanted to remind herself, to experience her new reality again. Delicate hands ran over the silky smooth skin of her throat, above her bosom. A single finger ran down between the sloping valley of cleavage created by globes of glorious tit that nearly reach to her elbows with arms fully extended. Her skin...so young! So soft and firm! She had the flesh of an air-brushed, magazine fantasy woman, yet with boobs and ass more ripe and firm than any merely human woman had a right to possess. Filtering light from the creases in the shipping compartment played across the sculpted curves of her statuesque legs, toned muscles tense with hidden power, yet still retaining a feminine softness.
With a metallic grind, the backdoor of the truck's compartment slid open. Revealing within the compartment a nude, dusky-skinned woman who could not have been older than her mid-twenties, and a plain but short Brazilian man bound and gagged, wearing utilitarian clothing with copious pockets for practical wilderness travel. Thrashing violently, the man loosened his gag just enough to be heard.
"No P-Priestess....you can still.....resist.....don't.. surrender to the effect of..." his admonition was drowned out by her musical, feminine laugh.
"Oh Pablo, you continue to amuse me! As if I would ever go back to what I was! Content yourself with the plans I have made for you, and spare me your pathetic attempts to dictate a sense of duty!" She stood gracefully, the Priestess glaring with haughty triumph over the bound captive. "For seven decades I guarded the Trust!" Hissed the voluptuous female with the face and figure of a woman in the prime of her beauty. "You cannot imagine the sacrifice! I will not be judged! But look at you, Pablo! Even through your pants, I can see that your cock has grown again! At least 5 centimeters longer! Do not deny what you would do with that cock were I too release you!"
"No....m-must...preserve...the Trust...." murmured the Brazilian, his sweaty face contorted with some strange, intense exertion. It was as if the short, wide-faced man was straining to prevent his own penis from erupting out of his tented pants.
"Nonsense! You cannot resist me now; no man can! And I deserve this reward for my long years of service! The pleasure of a man's touch, a man's hard rod inside me.....these joys I have EARNED!!" The Priestess growled. And Pablo, for his part, could do nothing but grunt with exertion, apparently caught up in a silent war against the volcanic urges in his own penis.
"Please..." murmured the bearded man who had opened the sliding door of the truck's cargo compartment, his simple plea echoing a throbbing need as intensely potent as the burn in Pablo's own groin. The trucker's patience was at an end, and he gazed with slack-jawed wonder at the naked goddess posturing her impossible charms for the benefit of both men. The Priestess understood; she could see through the dingy denim jeans he wore that the Truck-driver's own manhood had attained a frightful rigidity that threatened to rupture his zipper. And yes, his manmeat had also begun to grow mightier, more enduring, more fitting to a woman of the Priestesses' beauty.
A heady musk filled the air, sharp and tangy and as unwholesome as it was enticing. The cloying scent erupted from the nude woman's cunt, now drooling with feminine juices. Her silky legs rubbed against each other as she posed for her new pet, the only affirmative needed for their union was the rude grunt of savage estrus that emanated from her throat.
It was more a cry of relief than desire, as the burly, bearded trucker rushed into the cargo bay, pulling and tearing at his zipper until his engorged penis was at last free. The Priestess was speared by the mighty rod even before her chosen mate was able to fully encircle her slender waist in his hairy arms. A stabbing inferno of velvet pleasure overwhelmed her, as she wallowed in the carnal paradise of the rut; the timeless joy of the mutual thrusts and fondlings as their genitals locked in perfect completion.
The Priestess began to lose herself; the magnitude of her pleasure was such that her mind seemed to drift away, away from the hard and harsh world on warm wings of breeding lust. Whose legs were they? Were her own legs entwined around the torso of her mate as he pumped into the moist sanctum of her womanhood? Or was she encircled in his own flesh as she opened herself to his lust, passion, and seed? The rutting pair operated on pure instinct, and it seemed like too much of a bother to keep track of her position during the mating. Only the sensation mattered; the joy and the eternal connection between living creatures fostered by the sexual imperative.
But she awakened, all too soon something occured that weighed down her mind back to awareness. She was atop him, pinning his arms beneath her as her crotch ground into his manmeat. But it was her belly; a gentle fluttering in her womb, like butterflies beneath her skin. Her perfect navel showed a soft bulge as her fertile body expanded. Yes...there could be little doubt....Pablo's seed, plus the two sessions with this man, this trucker who would take them to Brasilia, it had been more than enough.
In a few more quivering moments, her belly had swelled beyond the first trimester of a normal pregnancy. And soon, it seemed as though one of her lovers had managed to smuggle a soccerball within her stomach.
"LIFE!!!" The Priestess shrieked. "IT IS LIFE!! I BREED!!! I LIVE!!! IT HAS NEVER BEEN SO SWEET!!" But her paramour was understandably confused; reason warred with lust as he gazed slack-jawed at the impossible, quickened pregnancy that ripened her already gorgeous figure. Fears of the unknown contorted the face of the bearded driver, yet his flesh, his loins could respond only to the raw, explosive femininity of the creature impaling herself upon his rod. His hips jerked, and he ejaculated. He spurted. Again, and again the Brazilian trucker spewed forth his vigorous manseed into the over-fertile body grinding atop him. The shock of a woman experiencing a complete pregnancy in less than a minute was profound, yet not enough to change his lust for a creature so seductive. Her lower lips, her cunt contracted and throbbed to draw in every last sperm.
"T-too late...." grunted Pablo. "The nightmare has begun!"
**********
"A heavy burden indeed," Dylsia agreed, or rather the sex-creature that had once been Dylsia Jimenez. She stroked the shoulders of her latest conquest, a slim and tantalizing sculpture of womanhood, the glistening sheen of Bellini's flesh teased the bright lights in the lavatory, until it seemed as though the Italian former Nun had been dipped in liquid bronze. "To have to dress again in such tasteless clothes..." she gestured at the discarded Nun's habit crumpled on the floor.
The nude woman writhing on the floor had still not recovered from her final round of orgasms. Eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into the carpet, skin glistening with moisture - each muscle and tendon clenched as though to prevent her from being whisked away on a licentious tide of toe-curling bliss. At first, there had been the screaming, the moans of ecstasy that one might expect from a woman whose pleasure centers where being assaulted as no man had done before. And Dylsia had often shoved her plump boobs deeper into the mouth of her prey, in a belated attempt to silence the rapturous cries she made.
But soon enough, once the quivering heap of lust-drugged woman flesh had passed the seventh orgasm, she seemed to lose all semblance of awareness. It was sort of like gorging yourself on pure sugar; yes sugar is sweet and pleasing to the tongue, yet too much, too quickly can overload the senses and give one an adverse reaction. So it was with Sister Bellini; the joy of the forced climaxes that ravaged her body had been immensely pleasing, yet the lust, bliss, the sheer delight had compounded until it became more than her mind could handle. She degenerated into a grunting rag-doll of jiggling bounty, unable to speak except to grunt with indescribable sensations. Unable to move except to masturbate her cunt. The infectious ovum-spores had overwhelmed her, body and soul as the transformations completed.
Dylsia paused only a moment to lick the dripping slit of the naked, former nun before helping the new creature rise to her feet. Bellini gripped the edge of the sink furtively, her mind struggling to cope with the aftermath of the final, eleventh orgasm.
"But I...I never imagined...it would feel...like this!?" She hissed in awe, eyes widening as the majesty of Gaia imprinted itself upon her thoughts, rewriting, reenforcing, shifting the nuances of her character into a salacious reversal of her former personality. Firm fingers gripped the sink with taut intensity as the newborn female reveled in her appearance. Her flesh seemed to shine with her own newfound, inner eroticism as much as the sheen of sparkling moisture that new graced her skin. With a start she reached down to grope her hot pussy with a quivering left hand, her wet womanhood a seething cauldron of female arousal.
"How...how can you ask me to put clothes on again....after this! Sister Bellini demanded, her upper lip trembling with the magnitude of her passions. "How can I feel the ripeness of my new breasts, how am I to touch my delicious cunt under clothing?! Look at me...at this new body...it's as though...as though an Olympic Class Swimmer was kidnapped for outrageous breast implantation that she might be sold into sexual slavery!" How colorful, Dylsia thought.
"But don't forget this ass," remarked Bellini's mother/mistress as she fondled the coppery hemispheres bulging with fecund vitality. Dylsia's hands traveled on a slippery journey from between the woman's wet thighs, up along the firm trail of her tight navel, towards the jutting grandeur of triumphant boobs that would have severely strained a D-cup bra. Ripe, dark nipples and the sensitive halos around them seemed poised for action; as though each teat were programmed for a mission of Mass-seduction. So ripe, ready, and willing. "No woman alive could match your figure now..." Dylsia purred in her protege's ear. "No human woman..."
"And...no man could resist me for long!" The ex-Nun's brown eyes practically burned with excitement; and just minutes ago, when she'd entered the lavatory, she had sworn a vow of eternal celibacy. The rational side of Dylsia Jimenez was amazed that the infection could so rapidly, so drastically bring about such a transformation in mind and body. Yet the Over-instinct put her concerns at ease; all was natural, all was to be expected. "We...we are not human anymore, not truly human. I feel it clearly...what...what are we Mother?" For surely Dylsia was, the newborn feminine predator had no doubt.
"A unique product; we are an over-arching control to maintain the natural order, to bring life on Earth back into Balance. We are Ladies of Nature; and we shall save this world, and yet destroy it. We shall conquer it, and yet liberate it as well.
"But as for you....you know that you must put on your clothes again - at least temporarily." Dylsia stared her spawn straight in the face. "The plane has already lifted off; we'll be over the Atlantic soon, and your sisters will be concerned for you." The hispanic mother/mistress pressed her firm nipples against those of her convert. "You must allay their suspicions; for there is a plan. I assure you. A plan to capture this aircraft and bend everyone onboard to the service of Gaia."
"Wh-what plan?" Bellini asked. But Dylsia only smiled wryly.
"No, child...consider this a test." The latina smirked; the Nun had been biologically older, yet now, as a new species, a new creature, Jimenez was the senior. "You can feel the Over-instinct, which we call Gaia, you feel Her inside your mind. It is the sum of all the needs and desires of every creature that has ever lived. We are apart of it, and we can use Gaia to fulfill the Mission of Gaia. We will link ourselves to each other through this Super-instinct that connects the globe.
"Feel Lisa, she who was once Lisa Sorrentino....feel her through your connection to the Web of Life that envelops all of us. She has a strategy that will give us total control of this aircraft. I won't tell you what she is doing..." The Mistress pressed her hands to the cheeks of her eager pupil. "You must reach out yourself, feel her intent for yourself. In this way, you shall grow in your abilities as a Lady of Nature. Reach for her with your emotions...feel her...yes...feel her and see the plan..."
Bellini's brown eyes suddenly flashed a luminous, emerald green for a second. "Oh yes Mother....I see now....I understand!" The new daughter gave a sinister smirk.
**********
Eric Cones absentmindedly thumbed a copy of 'Silent Spring' that sat on the book shelf of the apartment rented by Dylsia Jimenez, for which he had a key; the trust his girlfriend placed in him allowed him to go as he pleased through the small 3-room corner dwelling. Eric's bald-shaven head furrowed with doubt and worry. Could his girlfriend's beliefs have finally landed her in serious trouble?
He reclined in a whicker-backed papasan chair staring at the flowery Greenpeace poster on the nearest wall. Eric wasn't normally paranoid; but it wasn't difficult to piece together a frightening scenario:
"She'd gone to South America...protesting diamond mines... could be some corrupt local officials didn't take kindly to the interference of some idealistic, American students..." His dark brow creased with worry as he balanced his chin on his clenched hands.
"A lot of students...but they don't know the area....might have hired a local guide... But in some of those countries, there are drug lords, Marxist rebels, separatist factions....who routinely abduct and hold for ransom vulnerable, rich Americans. Or...rich as they see it. Could be a lot of influential investors who thought they could do without the nuisance and attention; there could be all kinds of ways to lead the students astray... lead them into a trap...then into a grimy cell, guarded by cigar-chomping men with bad-goatees, deadly machine-guns, and more than enough greed."
Eric thumbed the pages of Silent Spring unconsciously, weighing his options, evaluating the risks, the probabilities. Dylsia had been almost a week late for her last contact, and Eric decided that it was best not to take chances, the longer he waited, the more likely something was to...get worse. If he was correct, there'd be ransom demands soon enough. And if some petty drug lord didn't get some hard cash, then....well, better not to think about it. Was it a leap? Was he fooling himself with undue pessimism? Maybe, this could just be some innocent misunderstanding that would work itself out.
Eric's sable-colored eyes glanced at the white telephone on a nearby coffee table. Any second now, she might be calling; he stared intently, as if willing the phone to ring and connect the two of them. He tapped his fingers restlessly, for there was another reason for his concern. The hot little Latina had been very, very friendly of late, and had not hesitated to give him something 'to remember her by', before leaving. The nights of furious, unprotected passion they'd shared forced him to consider the real possibility that a nine-month surprise might soon be on the way. Not that he had any firm proof, but the way they'd been going at it the week before he left...made him wonder. She never mentioned anything in the way of birth-control, and primitive emotions of protectiveness rose to the fore as he contemplated ways to protect his girl.
Options? Well perhaps he should call the police, and then from there maybe he could get the F.B.I., and then maybe, maybe he could connect to the State Department, maybe the Customs Service, and perhaps through official channels there might be some small chance of gaining information, if nothing else. Yes, he probably would do that, but...it seemed like too uncertain a method. Kidnappings like this did happen, and often the bureaucrats seemed powerless to really save people in that kind of danger. Even if the Government could do something, would they expend the political capital needed to roust the local government into some kind of action? If the local government could do something? And would his government go to that much bother over just one, anonymous citizen with no political connections? Maybe, since there were a group of students, and a Professor with Dylsia...but none of whom had any political connections.
Well, it wasn't impossible to save Dylsia from...whatever was going on through the official government channels, but it seemed like too slow a method, too unreliable....Eric needed to do something, take some sort of action quickly. Yes, he'd try to go through the authorities, but he'd also do more than that at the same time.
"Think, Think, Think, Eric...who do you know....who could you bring in on this..." Eric Cones wasn't really that special himself, he didn't really know any powerful, unusual, or influential people that might be able to bail out Dylsia in her time of need. However....wait....hmmm... Eric's eyes brightened. There wasn't much he could do, but what he could accomplish, he would. True, there were no strings he could pull, no dangerous men beholden to him that could undertake some kind of rescue mission, but there was someone...perhaps. He grasped the white phone on the coffee table, and began dialing a complex, long-distance number.
"Hello...New York Post? Yes...well it's very important that I speak to one of your investigative reporters; Melissa Jimenez. Yes......I know she's busy, but she'll want to hear this...........no, no, tell her it's about her niece, Dylsia. Yes, I'll hold."
**********
"Reporters...." The man sneered in his native Portugese. "Thinking they have the right to meddle wherever they please." He was a balding, portly man with a salt-and-pepper goatee, reclining in his cusioned, leather-backed chair, yet the electric gleam in his eyes seemed not unlike that of a panther ready to pounce.
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" Shrilled the olive-skinned young woman in her professional beige business dress. "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ABOVE THE LAW, MARCOS!?"
"Here, I am the Law. And beyond the walls of my estate, I can buy the Law. Your crusade to expose my enterprises will embarass a number of powerful politicians; men willing to turn a blind eye towards unfortunate...accidents to prevent such embarassments from reaching the public." From his tailor-made, 3-piece jet-black suit, Marcos withdrew a plump, cuban cigar and prepared to light it. The woman rolled her eyes.
"I have heard it all before; you think you can slit my throat and dump me into the jungle. I have brought down greater men than you, Marcos! You think I would expose drug dealers, death-squads, bribery rings without taking precautions!"
"And you think yourself to be...smarter, more elite than the rest of us, eh Ms. Celeste de Lourdes? Because of your fancy education in a fancy American Journalist school?" Marcos made a whimsical, dismissive gesture with a pudgy, ring-bedecked hand not holding a cigar. "This is not California! This is Brazil! And In this country, My men can get to you, I can hire men that will -"
"AND IT WOULD STILL BE WORTH IT!" Interrupted Celeste, fist clenched, long mahogany hair flying about her high cheek-boned face. "I KNOW OF THE POLITICIANS YOU HAVE BRIBED! I KNOW OF YOUR TIES TO THE FIRST CAPITAL COMMAND! I KNOW ABOUT THE DRUG SHIPMENTS! MAYBE IT IS WORTH MY LIFE TO BRING DOWN A MAN OF YOUR CORRUPTION!" She turned and spat; yet her quivering lips and shaky hands still betrayed an irrepressible fear from the deadly threats of this corrupt Kingmaker. Marcos chuckled as he puffed upon his thick cuban.
"Be certain, little one. Be certain that you truly can do what you claim. Accidents happen, Television Stations can have their licenses revoked, witnesses can be...silenced." She seemed about to speak, but Marcos pressed ahead: "No, I am not a politician, I do not have an elected office; because I do not need one. For I am the man who pulls the strings of the leaders of men! It is my pocket that they come to when they have need. It is my doorstep on which they appear when they need favors!" Marcos leered at her from across his polished, oaken table. The glare of lights from overhead cast a shadow upon his broad face not unlike that of a snarling jungle cat.
"Men like me are more dangerous than any man with an elected office, because we do not fear polls, voters....or the Law. Because I have reached a point where Legal Decisions can be bought...." he arrogantly puffed a ring of volant nicotine in her face. "....And sold...like Any. Other. Commodity." But Celeste steeled herself, she'd come too far to back down now.
"We shall see, Marcos. In an undisclosed location, there is a modem that is programmed to transmit a complete file of all your bribes, butchery, and backstabbing to the six largest newspapers in Brasilia! If I do not return within three hours to stop the transmission; then we're going to put your secret influence to the test!" Her green eyes sharpened with indignation. There was a tense moment of silence.
"Still, I think that when - " But Marcos was interrupted by the harsh buzzing of his desk-side intercom. "Speak!" He commanded. The voice on the other end was a lilting, honeyed tone that promised salacious pleasures better left unspoken.
"It is... your new best friend..." crooned the womanly voice. "I have an excellent solution to your...media problem. Give her to me, I can absolutely guarantee that she will pose no problem at all....after I am through..." Interesting. Somehow, Marcos was inclined to believe that his new mistress could deliver as promised.
"As you wish," he said through the intercom.
**********
The bearded, bandana-clad men in Marcos' employ shoved her through a thick doorway into a sumptously decorated apartment with smooth linoleum floors, white leather furniture, and a glass sliding door to the south that opened up onto a patio with grass. From the way the grubby mercenaries had fondled Celeste as they forced her along, she began to worry that this might be some sort of twisted, rape-chamber.
How would raping her get her to not reveal her evidence on Marcos' corruption? Yet it was not to be so simple. Immediately after the door was slammed shut, and locked, and locked, and locked again the intrepid reporter became aware of the cries. No...they were not the sounds of a wild animal caught in a trap, they were womanly sounds; the noises of women in some sort of...ecstasy?
The first two women were wet and slippery with what might have been oil or...or mud? They thrashed upon the limoleum, writhing as one might to escape a giant, constricting snake, yet they were caught only in coils of their own lust. Naked women, cream-coffee skin tones apparently of Brazilian extraction, except for their impossibly green, green eyes.
Yet they were eerily, strikingly beautiful, with a plumpness of breast and hip that nearly any man should find attractive. Yes, their boobs were vast, most men could barely wrap his hands around either, but the swelling valleys of their magnificent teats were not overly vast, not like the clearly artificial enhancements of porn-stars. Everything, the jiggling boobs, the sleek legs, the heart-shaped rumps all seemed perfectly natural, yet undeniably impressive for their abundance.
Celeste could not tell what had cast these women into these senseless fits of erotic gratification but both were....pregnant!? Yes, each was cradling a plump rise below their navels, a quivering womb ripe and throbbing with energetic young. The girls shivered with delight as...hey! Celeste's eyes must be playing tricks upon her! Each taut, tawny womb blossomed and pulsed outwards even as she watched with slack-jawed amazement. No...it was not some trick of the light; the thrashing, naked women seemed to be half-way through pregnancies; yet they plainly grew yet larger, in an incremental creep, even as she watched!
"It is important that you leave Mr. Marcos alone; he is important to us." Said the disturbingly attractive woman with the exceptionally perky breasts clad in an open, gold-embroidered robe. She strode leisurely towards the glass sliding doors, and looked out towards the grass, where several young workmen were clearing away a ten-square meter area of turf next to two dark-green bushes on the vast and manicured lawns of the estate.
"I don't know who you are Lady, but I have a responsibility to the People of Brazil! This man is the center of a web of corruption and crime! I'm sure he's important to his pet whores, but I serve a higher calling!" Insisted Celeste, more with revulsion than fear. The strange, robed woman chuckled.
"Oh no, little one. You do not serve a higher power, but very soon you will. You see, we need a man like Marcos." The green, green eyes of the robed beauty widened with manic intensity as she glared at Celeste, a hand reaching towards the handle opening the sliding glass door. "Marcos has privacy, security, and considerable wealth. He can transport people and....objects all across this country, and beyond in many cases. His connections allow him to interdict the police forces that might become too curious in me and my......daughters."
"And why should I - " But as Celeste walked forward, to confront this bizarre, naked criminal she passed an open doorway to her left, where a short, nearly-naked man was tied down spread-eagle upon a four-poster bed. He still wore a tan-colored safari-style shirt with many pockets, yet his pants were gone, and a gigantically-erect penis was thrusting straight up, bright and angry and intense. The man seemed to be.....to be.....sobbing? Where those tears streaking his face? He was gagged, and securely bound, yet that cock, it seemed ridiculous for so huge a penis to thrust up from so short a man. Why....it must be...nearly a third of a meter! And...and then the smell! Like...honeysuckle...and cocoabutter...mixed with molasses? The eerie scent....it seemed to set a tingle down her spine...
"N-NO! I...I don't know what kind of sick enterprise you and Marcos are running here Lady, but there's....no way....I'm going to just...give up now!" What was it? That smell? Why was she getting so...dizzy? So light-headed?
"Who said anything about you giving up? Oh no, my dear. Your true work, your true mission in life, it is just beginning!" She opened the sliding glass door, and the young workers, having cleared away the grass, were now turning a garden hose on the bare soil, creating a frothing miasma of slippery mud. Those strange, dark-green bushes quivered again, shaking violently now. The robed woman made a 'shooing' gesture, and the young workers left through a side door. She...what should Celeste do? What...that smell...sweet...milky...insidious...she felt her knees go weak...an eerie euphoria began to soften her resolve, melting her anger and indignation.
"It is her time now. Second-born, take her as I told you, take her as your instincts command you!" One of the moist, pregnant women rose on hands and knees, a decidedly predatory gleam in her green, green eyes. Her ripe and growing belly now seemed....no...it was more like a woman seven-months pregnant but...still growing...before her very eyes!? What madness was this? The strange, perverted girl approached, then turned around, presenting her golden-brown ass and naked, sopping wet pussy as though she were a bitch in heat. As though she expected Celeste to...to mount her? How sick! She did not look upon other women that way! And yet...the smell...the scent...it..was..it did something.
"I'm not...like this..." Celeste murmured, as she fell to her knees, the pungeant scent overwhelming....squelching her reason and morality. The scent, the sensation, it seemed so important...more important than anything. Celeste's face was close, so close to the hot, moist slit of the horrible, beautiful, pregnant naked woman.
"This...this isn't me...I don't want this....I'm not....that kind of girl..." The reporter struggled to remind herself, even as she reveled in the glory of the Scent.
"PRIESTESS! STOP THIS NOW!!! END THE CYCLE!!!" shouted a male voice; it must be the short, half-naked man with the huge cock tied down in the next room. He must have loosed his gag. Yet Celeste could not think of the meaning behind his words. She could only grunt, as she buried herself into the hot wetness before her; sucking, suckling, drinking and licking.
Celeste knew she should resist...something...there was something important...but she couldn't remember it, she could only savor the girl-cum of the lusty hussy upon her, even as both the other daughter, and that strange, gorgeous, robed woman removed her embroidered garment and fell upon the reporter.
Sometimes, it was a naked cunt, releasing slick, tangy juices into her mouth, sometimes it was a naked breast, spewing a hot, shockingly sweet milk-like nectar. And then, it was a face. One of the soft-featured, elegant-eyed faces of the mysterious women that had captured her, and with savage grunts rumbling in her throat, Celeste engulfed her mouth, tongues wrestling as she savored the mingling of sexual nectars within the mouth of her captor.
She released an animal squeal when the chief-woman, the mother-figure who led them, placed a taut, firm nipple into her now naked womanhood. The sweet, breast-nectar spurted into her exposed womb. While Celeste still had a remnant of clothing, the daughters attacked, savaged the fabric. It was as if the garments themselves were somehow offensive to the sensibilities of these lurid females. But for a moment, the Journalists' reasoning abilities momentarily surfaced, making a last-ditch attempt to resist this perverse onslaught. As her eyes fluttered open, she looked past the naked, melon-sized tits waving before her towards the yard outside.
Those bushes, those dark-green bushes, the shuddering, the shivering was increasing...but no...something was wrong...there were no branches in this bush, as far as Celeste could see...it was like...like a solid wall of leaves....impossible...it meant...the bushes were not bushes at all! It was like an unbroken layer, a membrane. Not like a growing plant, but more like.....a cocoon?
But the ecstasy was too great; The reporter's swift and flexible mind would never again assert itself the same way, the narcotic effects of the nectars and juices that were slathering her body would forever transform her. Thus, Celeste de Lourdes had descended into nothing but a squirming slut blind to all but sensual pleasure; an eager receptacle for the carnal urges of man or woman alike.
Had she been able to concentrate longer, she would have noticed the poke, the prod as something within pressed against the inner surface of the leafy cocoon. Both structures began to wobble from pressure within. As the newest victim shrieked her glee at the waggling tongue in her vagina, a soft, slender hand ruptured through the leaf-coated layer. In moments, both cocoons were torn from inside, as slippery women of a refined, delicate beauty tore themselves from the juices within. They should have been young, they were newborn, yet they had the full-figures of women in their sexual prime, dripping with sleek oils. They were unsteady at first, and in a way their bodies seemed mismatched; smooth faces with wide-eyes, like teenagers just released from a World-Class beauty salon, yet with ripe bodies and firm figures of child-bearing adults. Surely, breasts that were so high, so firm could not also be as plump as overgrown grapefruits! Could any woman with a face so fresh and young have a body of such ripe fertility? Their eyes flashed an even more brilliant green as comprehensive racial memories filled their young brains with useful information.
"NO!!! ABOMINATIONS!!" shrieked the imprisoned man. "THEY ARE NOT MY DAUGHTERS! THEY ARE NOT MY DAUGHTERS!!" The only response was a chorus of sinister, feminine chuckling.
But Sister Patience was growing suspicious. The drinks, (only water for her) had seemed exceptionally sweet, they made her feel unusually warm...unusually contented. But she resisted all such influences......could their be some form of alcohol in the drinks? Well, she'd have no more, and then she'd find the proper authorities to report this flight! The whole thing had been fraught with disaster!
She did feel strange! Well, no more of this! She had always rejected, always turned away from sensual gratification all throughout her eighty-six years of life and service to God and the Holy Church. The withered, sag-faced nun stared with stern disapproval as several of her sisters ordering second....and third glasses of whatever they had been drinking....but, there had been a variety of preferences on the flight, many different drinks had been ordered, yet everyone who had partaken of them seemed filled with a contented feeling that bordered on euphoria. A crusty old general who should have been equal in age to Patience herself adjusted his pants as if...surely not! These men were aroused! Almost...it seemed as though they were all aroused at the same time?! But why?
"Mmm...so warm..." murmured a Nun in a seat directly in front of Patience. A prominent bosom seemed to assert itself even through the dull, dark fabric of her Nun's Habit. The woman caressed herself, gurgling with the joy of it.
"SISTER VANZETTI!" hissed Patience. "CONTROL YOURSELF!!!"
"Hmm...don't you feel it Patience? It's like Heaven inside of me!..." murmured the intoxicated sister as she turned a smiling face towards her accuser. Unacceptable! As the Abbess of her Nunnery, it was her responsibility to rebuke this sort of behavior at once! And....she...Sister Patience was about to unleash a firm diatribe, but she noticed something.....Vanzetti had always had those deep, wrinkled rings under her eyes, since about the time she turned fifty. Now, they were gone! Her eyes were smooth and perfect, and she seemed to have lost the fine lines around her cheeks, what did this mean!? The difference in Vanzetti's appearance was striking!
And then came the next rush; The aged Nun felt a since of disembodied pleasure, a warm surge in her blood, and a sudden dose of...of...pure happiness burning in her flesh! There was something...something like a voice...like a tantalizing whisper of higher purposes, sensuous....seductive...compelling....
"NO! This...this must be...some sort of..of narcotic!?" Snarled the suspicious sister. But why would the crew of an airliner want to drug their passengers like this? It did not yet make sense to her, but she was certain no good could come of it! She had to get out of here, she had to figure out what was -
"Sister Patience!" came a harsh whisper from behind her. "It's me, Sister Bellini! I need to talk to you in private!! We might be in some sort of trouble!!!" Indeed! Well, Bellini had always seemed like a level-headed servant of the Church, immediately Patience rose on her shaky, old legs and began to follow the young nun. Hmm...Bellini certainly seemed...healthy today. Her face was so smooth, clear and bright...had she been using makeup? She'd have to give the younger woman a stern talking-to if that was the case!
Skirting the moaning throngs in either aisle, the two nuns walked towards the front of the massive airliner, towards the curtained compartment where stewardesses could prepare meals. Bellini ushered Patience inside with a hurried gesture.
"Are you certain it is safe to talk in here? If the flight-crew are plotting against us, isn't this where they would be most likely to gather?" Asked the aged nun as she limped along.
"You're quite right of course, child." Said a sumptuous young woman with mocha-tan skin, hair nearly the same color, who was naked except for an open airline jacket with a name-tag reading 'Maria'. It was plain from the engorged condition of her lower lips that the woman was highly aroused, she seemed lathered with some sort of body oil.
"WHAT the.. - what perversion is this! I'm far older than you girl, and I won't stand for whatever abomination you've concocted on board this flight!"
"Older? Not for long!" What did that mean? It was then that Sister Bellini attacked. Her Nun's habit seemed to flow off her, revealing a svelte figure that gleamed as she darted forward, to pin the old nun beneath a soft prison of bouncing boobs and turgid nipples.
"SUCK!!" came the command. Though strong-willed and unfazed by any sensual temptation, some secret, sinful reflex caused Patience to suck, and to suck deep of the rapturous necter....before she was able to push away the soft surves of her corrupted sister.
"YOU TOO!!? What sin is this that has...that has...m-my head...so light...so free..." murmured the confused cleric.
"Care for a drink?" offered Maria, holding a glass of orange juice close to her wide-aureoled bulging tits.
"Wh-...s-so...that's it...it...I...your breasts....some sort of....of evil milk.....corrupting us...." Maria pulled in close, placed a hand upon Patience's chest.
"The suffering of the Earth is evil, Sister. But I can feel the changes; inside of you....bones strengthening, flesh surging with life! You will soon have a chance to put right what is wrong in the world!" Their prey could not speak, she merely collapsed upon the floor, grunting and quivering.
Strange that there was no pain; she could feel her guts twisting, bones popping as this prurient contagion ravaged every cell of her body. But rather than pain, there was a pleasure; a bliss so sublime, so radiant that all but the strongest personalities would be subsumed at once!
Worst was her breasts; moments ago they had surged with life, potency. They were growing ripe again, full and alive! And...and sensitive! She would fight this! Fight this attack upon her spirit!
"It may take a few moments, Sister Patience is a True Believer, her strength of will is indomitable. It will be difficult for Gaia to Turn her." Bellini admitted.
"But she will Turn." declared a confident voice from behind them. Lisa Sorrentino, stark naked strolled in through the curtains. Her delicious body seemed nearly bursting with life and lust. The original Lady of Nature cupped the Nun's hand in her chin. "Yes, wrinkles vanishing...skin firming...yes she will Turn, I have a theory about her, someone like her may be of great use."
"N-never!" Shrieked Patience, her voice no longer that of a quavering hag, now more like a woman in her thirties. She grasped her face, feeling her skin twisting. "I f-feel...the desire....the carnal urges...I won't...give in...won't surrender....You c-can't make me some naked slut like the rest of you! Not me!!" She bucked wildly, even through her black robes, broadening feminine curves were becoming apparent. A pronounced swell in her bosom could no longer be hidden.
"N-not me! I'm not your slut! Never!!" she repeated her defiant mantra, with hands covering her face, even as her body leapt with pleasure, youthening and ripening all at once. "I'm not your slut...not your slut....not your slut...."
"Oh no, of course not child!" assured Lisa, petting the Abbess's head. "You are not my slut at all! You shall be a Slut for the Earth! You shall spread your legs on behalf of Mother Nature!" crooned Lisa triumphantly.
"She can't hold out much longer," added Maria.
"An impressive effort, I was into my fourth orgasm after this much time." Bellini admitted. As if on cue, the transforming Abbess erupted. After several delighted moments watching her squirm with libidinous release, Lisa took hold of her hated clothing, and tore!
Already, her firm and proud breasts had reached an inch beyond apple-size, skin as silky-perfect as a wet dream. And the pitch of the hoarse cries of desire bore no resemblance to a woman in her 80's. Soon, the three observers noticed the pattern: With each orgasm, her breasts grew just a smidgeon larger. A unique pitch of gurgling grunts tore lose from her throat, as her mind and spirit were boiled alive in a frothing sea of engulfing delight. A close observer could recognize a particular cadence to the grunts right before her now-perfect breasts began to bloom.
"*Nyhah - *RNNK.*" Nut-brown aureoles widened to the size of soda-can tops.
"*Nyhah - *RNNK.*" Another throb brought the cleavage of the milky beige globes closer, until the inner edge of each teat was no more than an inch apart.
"*Nyhah - *RNN-NAAAHRNK*" Nipples became higher, harder, firmer. Guided by pure instinct, Maria tore the shredded habit down further, revealing the wide hips and rosy cunt that any woman would be lucky to possess. Maria began to lick the vagina already moistened by the fourth in that scintillating cycle of eleven orgasms.
"*Nyhah - *RNNK.*" Even laying down, the vast bulge of mountainous mammaries now created a wide valley of sloping titflesh where both edges of breast now touched, already Patience had grown an inch past what would normally be thought of as a D-cup.
"HRAAAHH!!" She rose up into a sitting posture, chest jiggling and careening with the grandeur of her endowments. Her face, there was almost no resemblance, no chance of recognition. The World's Most Elite Fashion Photographers would gladly murder each other for the chance to exclusively publish features so finely exquisite.
"Test her..." Lisa ordered. And her subordinates knew what to do. Bellini and Maria fastened themselves onto the feminine melons still sprouting before them, and almost at once were rewarded with a milky ambrosia more intensely rich than they had imagined possible. The ovum-spores had out done themselves.
"MORE! I want...the pleasure....to continue." Hissed the former Abbess, now 60 years younger, and infinitely more depraved. With a devoted intensity, she curled her fingers and began to masturbate herself.
"No...search your instincts, search Gaia...." Instructed Lisa. You know that the only way to recapture the pleasure of the Turning is to compel a man to ejaculate inside of you. That first moment, when we first touch the Majesty of Gaia; that wondrous ascension can only be regained by opening yourself to a man's penis."
"NOW!" demanded the new slut. Lisa nodded.
"Yes...I agree, and I am tired of trying to resist the urges. There is no longer a need to hide and deceive. The humans can no longer resist us, let us go forth, nude and proud and claim the cock we crave!"
Sister Denise was still changing; it was as if the lurid caresses of this man accelerated the infection. As the Colonel wallowed upon her naked body, the few gray hairs still left in her auburn cascade darkened into youthful, vibrant color. A mere hour ago, such a brazen touch would have produced only screaming violence from Denise, but now it produced screams of a different kind. Still, the Colonel maintained some lingering vestige of his vanishing decency, he had the presence of mind to drape one of the courtesy blankets given to all passengers over the two of them, in a futile attempt to conceal the rough, vigorous mating. Where her breasts still growing, even as the Colonel pounded his over-erect cock into her welcoming slit?
Now, the Ladies could choose any male that piqued their interest....and almost all of them did. But Patience stopped for a moment, and began to fondle her engorged teats, their burgeoning size now just nearly enough for her to squeeze her own head inside either of them. Why did she pause? Why not grasp the nearest, virile officer and impale herself upon his rigid rod?
"We must be more than just Sluts!" Patience proclaimed to the mating, fondling throng. "It is no longer enough to simply surrender to the natural advances of a man's lust! We must be better than that, more aggressive than that!" She clenched her delicate fist with righteous passion, as if preaching a sermon to the faithful. "It is for us to go forth and encourage, incite these lusts! I shall not wait for a man to work up the courage to grasp my shapely ass! I shall grasp his first! That there be no mistaking my intent!
"There will be some men that will deny their libido, claiming moral or social restraints, " that remark seemed to provoke a hiss from the transforming nuns. "For such a man, thrust your naked breasts in his face! Confront him with your bare pussy! Grasp his penis and throw him to the ground! Even the most ethical men shall surrender to us! Do what you can, what you must to entice even those men you cannot reach, color the culture with lust and libido even as you impale yourself upon a man's hard meat! Let Gaia reign over a sea of coupling, ejaculating bodies! Let Gaia reign!" The crowd roared with ecstasy at this, though it was not certain whether their approval was for Patience's speech, or from their own liasons.
"I see....why you chose her...Great Mother." Maria said to Lisa, as the former leapt upon a young, black Airforce sargeant, wrapping her legs around his pelvis as she smothered him with her ample breasts. Lisa flipped a lever that caused a seat to rock backwards, then grasped the cock of a lanky, red-headed lieutenant before her, and began to slather his rod with her juices, even while she hooked her legs around the ass of a third man, whom she couldn't even see (it hardly mattered so long as he could muster up a hard cock) and encouraged him to enter her from behind. He needed no encouragement.
"*MMM-*slurp* Lucky...mmph.... we found them..*shluck* Nuns....*slurp*....work well....Gaia...nnnnnnnnn....didn't..*slurp* destroy...their faith...didn't...*slurp* ..suppress it....mmmnnnff.....Gaia...switched them...*slurp* redirected them...*slurp* the Nuns...nnahah!....the Nuns are still....*slurp* women of Faith....but now...that Faith has been reversed....*slurp* towards the seduction of all human males...*slurp* The same...mmmm...mmm...devotion... that made them choose lives of....*slurp* chastity and austerity....now...*slurp* used for Gaia....they will devote themselves to lust....sex....*slurp* with the same...intensity...Cum! Cum!!!" But now, Lisa was speaking directly to her male lovers. One was thrusting into her backwards, hands upon her ripe, golden ass, while the other stroked her raven-black hair as she slurped and suckled his impossibly rigid penis between explanations.
But Patience had focused all of her volcanic urges upon a single officer; he seemed to be more soldier than commander, probably a petty officer getting his chance to play with the big boys. He was a rough, grizzled man, a mass of scars, muscles and five-o-clock shadow...but Patience pinned and stripped him in less time than it took to say it. Not that he resisted.
"Take him...*slurp**slurp* Patience! You...someone like you....can become...even more fertile.....mmmph...*slurp* I feel it...through Gaia....when we....*slurple* infect a woman....her immune system...tries to resist....*slurp*...can't of course, the changes....happen too fast....*slurp* but the body....tries to fight back....*slurp* Change happens....but limited....by the bodies'....resistance...*slurp*..*slurrplrrp*..but in the old....the sick.....your body....weaker...less resistant....to disease....infection.....*slurp* Old...like you...your body had....no hope...to make any resistance...against the ovum-spores....change you....more completely....more absolutely....than even me.....your breasts.....a little larger....than mine....*slurp* *slurp* We...are still....not perfect yet....Ladies of Nature can still become....more natural...more erotic...more evolved...*slurp* We'll find the way....to become *slurp* the perfect seductresses....mmmph!"
Patience grunted her approval, deep in the throes of Gaia's command to extract seed from men. The ex-Nun could not see his roughened face over the swaying jiggle of her magnificent breasts, but his body... his muscles....his maleness was what mattered. Already, his penis had transcended anything she'd dared hope for...close to a third of a meter! All for her! Hands gripping his wrists, pussy gripping his rod, the youthened slut ground herself into his crotch with a fervor once reserved only for Prayer. Her long mane of Coppery-gold hair flying about her face, she made her demands:
"EJACULATE!" She declared. "DO IT!!" He murmured in insensate bliss at the passion of their coupling.
"EJACULATE!" She said again. How she enjoyed that word! After a life of austere privation, the luridness of it, commanding it of a man, it gave her such a fiery thrill that it almost brought her to the brink of her own climax!
"EJACULATE!" she repeated, louder this time. Her moist lips engulfing yet more of his meaty shaft. She would say the word again, and again! It felt so dirty, so delicious sliding off her tongue. A dangerous word aflame with salacious intent!
"EJACULATE!" and again....
"STOOOOP!!!" Came a male cry. Few did. But the crusty old general held his impossibly hard cock in one hand, and a pistol in the other.
"I've never heard....of a hijacking like this....but it ain't gonna succeed! You!!! The naked girl! Get off ' a Billy's dick!" A hundred eyes turned to regard him.
"You don't want that gun, general. Someone might get hurt." It was Dylsia, at the front of the aisle; nude, slick and glorious. But what was she doing, why was she dancing? Why was she thrusting her hips, twirling her pelvis, and bouncing her breasts.
"You...you think....ah'm gonna give up just because you can shake yer money-maker?! No way slut....no way..." But the General's eyes began to glaze over, his sagging, wrinkled cheeks seemed to lose some of their resolve. There was something more, something about the way Dylsia moved; there was a timelessness about her dance; somehow she was connecting to a primal core, a primal instinct. She had the power to tap into the most primitive parts of the male brain in a way to disarm the higher reasoning centers...
Several other officers, who seemed alarmed, and about to bolt, instead slowed...calmed...riveted upon the scintillating curves and lurid thrusts of Dylsia's nude exhibition. Somehow, before he saw her coming, the hispanic girl was across the aisle, moving faster than his eyes could see! She gripped the pistol by the handle.....and bent back the metal.
"Wh- wha.....this is...unnatural!" Protested the disarmed officer. Dylsia's eyes narrowed.
"No General, don't ever, ever say that. Never say that. You talk too much, time to give your mouth something better to do!" Tackling him, her engorged nipples were within his agape mouth in less than a second, and he could not suppress the instinct to drink from her intoxicating teats.
Perhaps it was fitting that Lisa, Queen and Mother to the Ladies of Nature was blessed with the first spurt. Her paramour from behind thrust into her, began quivering, his fingers dug deeper into her round rump. And with an animal squeal, his beefy rod jetted forth his manly gift in spurt-after-spurt into the warm, welcoming womb that so eagerly accepted his seed.
Suddenly, Lisa felt an energy, a hot tension burning inside her womb. A male had cum inside her! A MALE HAD CUM INSIDE HER!!! Her instinct told her what to do....now that she had his seed...she could master him utterly. Without fully understanding the process, Lisa released. The pleasurable sensation was not like a typical female orgasm, it was like...like she was pressing him...imprinting something upon him....but she knew that whenever a male gives her his seed, he was giving her his very existence. A series of rapid grunts escaped her, even as she continued suckling the shaft of the red-headed lieutenants. She released something....impressed something upon her male prey....even as she felt his potent, virile seed enlivening something deep within her hungry womb.
Marine Corporal Clarence Sterling collapsed onto the floor, he had already felt some of Gaia's bliss, but now he was gripped in a frenzy of sensation and passion to drown out the rest of the world. Something was wrong, dangerously wrong. He felt it, an infection - invasion spreading through his body...That bitch...she'd...infected him...with some weird....jungle disease....it felt like...roots? Roots winding into his flesh, into his blood. But why did it feel so good? Shouldn't it hurt to have some terrible parasite plant ripping into him? No...he felt like he was floating on a cloud of happiness. He saw the visions then - he became that entire Host of living creatures, past and present - feeling all their lives; all their desires. Changing...growing...he was a part of something much bigger, more important than a military...he was part of something that could really change what was wrong in the world, Clarence saw the Plan, the will of Gaia... and new what must be done.
Clarissa rose upright, discarding the uniform of Clarence Sterling as her naked, canteen-sized breasts jiggled with feminine bounty. Her platinum-blond hair plastered to her fine-boned, female face as she rubbed her bare cunt.
"First....I need sperm!"