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Dr. Porneau's Pet: 01

By: PrevertOne



It was a private island, not very large, one of the Keys; few went near it. Some said it was haunted, others mentioned secret government experiments; very nasty things happened there, or so people said. Hardly surprising given who used to own it. 

Dr. Armand Porneau: the Mozart of genetic research; submitted his first patent while in his teens; was a multi-billionaire by thirty; bought the island where he was alleged to have done secret genetic research. Then one of those experiments killed him, so the story went. 

Porneau had been rich and handsome. A regular around the talk show circuit; a fixture in the magazines; very popular with the tabloids. Described as an inveterate womanizer; the king of geek chic; the idol of nerds everywhere. That a man like him could have hot women hanging off his arm was a miracle. 

Tiffany Wells was an aspiring journalist; smart, ambitious, and stuck. She had a journalism degree that was practically useless unless she could find a great story. Tiffany's main problem was people underestimated her. One look at Tiffany made men assume "Dumb, curvy blonde"; women made the same judgment. The difference was while men plotted to get into her pants, women plotted to kill her. It didn't help that Tiffany had gazongas the size of Mount Everest.

She knew she was hot; she never flaunted it. In other circumstances her package would be an asset: waist-length golden blonde hair, warm brown eyes, broad nose, beautiful face, sunny smile, and a 36DD-24-36 body. A package well suited for Hugh Hefner or Bob Guccione; she was more interested in Rupert Murdoch. She always dressed down at work, hiding her breasts and curves in formless outfits, but the beauty broke through. 

She found the island by serendipity. It was a particularly bad week. A rival at the paper stole a scoop that would have gotten her noticed. The editor, who made a point of staring at her breasts, was unsympathetic and condescending. Tiffany had vacation time; she decided to take it. "It's either that or kill the son of a bitch," she thought. 

One look at the beach made Tiffany decide on a boat trip. The beach was the only spot where she flaunted her body, but Tiffany didn't feel like wasting energy fending off land sharks. "I think I'll take a boat to the Keys, do some private sunbathing, figure if I want to keep this job. Hopefully, I won't run into drug smugglers," she thought, "On second thought, hopefully I will. I need a story."

She took some clothes and enough food for several days, rented a boat, found an island, beached the boat, and went for a walk. Tiffany decided to wear her white string bikini. There were no men to watch and admire, but Tiffany felt it appropriate. It was a warm, sunny day; it was a beach, and on beaches women wear bikinis. 

Tiffany walked along the shoreline until it curved, taking her out of sight of the boat. The other island was a mild surprise. It was just offshore; small, lots of trees. She thought she glimpsed a house. "? I didn't know anyone was here." The island was only a short swim. Tiffany debated whether to take the risk; curiosity won out, "Nothing wrong with a little exploring." She had to be careful; drug smugglers sometimes kept their stash on some of these places, and other people were a bit eccentric, "Might be a story here, though."

She swam to the island, stepped on the beach, and found a path. Initially, she planned a brief lookaround and quick exit. When Tiffany saw the house, she changed her mind. The house was a full-blown mansion, decrepit and uninhabited. It was an old Southern manse, stately in its decay, with peeling white paint and gold trim. The property was bordered by a crumbling brick wall; a rusted gate at its entrance. The once-magnificent yard was overgrown to jungle; moss-covered trees decorated the grounds.

The atmosphere would exude eerie but for the warm, sunny day. It was a place built for night and fog. "Great, Disney's Haunted Mansion," Tiffany sniffed. A plaque on the wall caught her eye, "Great! I've found Armand Porneau's house!"

She'd heard of it, but never thought she'd see it. The home of the great Armand Porneau. There wasn't a single supermarket, mall, or box store that didn't sell products from his discoveries. Well-known intimately in corporate and military circles. The government was said to have scoured this place after his disappearance. They found nothing, so the story went; no bodies, no research, no lab equipment, nothing. 

A less-credible rumor circulated that the government actually did find something, but as in all conspiracies, weren't telling. It was said the government threw a black curtain over the island; declared it off limits; regular Coast Guard and DEA patrols to keep gawkers away. Tiffany hadn't seen patrol boats, "I think I slipped between them." 

Tiffany found it curious that Dr. Porneau disappeared from the media fairly quickly. "It's a little too convenient," she thought, "Maybe there's something to the conspiracy theories." Porneau was a private person who never advertised his living quarters. Now Tiffany had stumbled across his house, "God bless serendipity!" Like any ambitious reporter, she couldn't pass up opportunity. 

"If I find something juicy I can fuck that bitch (her rival) hard and the editor too. Maybe I can give it to the other paper; get better terms." So Tiffany, head swimming with visions of fame and fortune, entered the yard.

"I have to be quick before the Coast Guard comes back," she thought, "It's so quiet." Other than a few birds and an occasional breeze, it was silent, "Weird," she thought. Tiffany went to the porch; the wood creaked under her sandaled feet. 

The doors were locked; the curtains, drawn. "Okaaay, let's go around back. I'm already trespassing; may as well stick it in deeper." She never found if the back door was locked. The back yard was typical, albeit overgrown, but it was the large building, twenty feet from the house, that drew her attention. Tiffany's first thought was, "Giant greenhouse?"

The building was the size of a warehouse. The walls were translucent glass panels. The doors were double-sided French. Tiffany trotted to the building, expecting it to be locked. She was mildly surprised when the doors opened. She was more shocked at what she found inside.

The roof was composed of frosted glass; diffuse light illuminated the Olympic-sized swimming pool within. The pool was shaped like a bowl; there were no steps. Instead, the floor sloped downward, becoming more pronounced as it led to the pool. The floor was composed of tiles, light blue in color, changing to laminated turquoise several feet from the water.

Tiffany was struck by the odd nature of the water. It was calm, clear; she could see the turquoise-tiled bottom, and that was the problem, "No algae." Without regular cleaning, abandoned and undrained swimming pools tended to become polluted with algae; mosquitoes and other insects were problems as well. The pool was clean and clear, "That means someone cleans the pool, but who?"

Tiffany sniffed, "No chlorine smell, so it's not chemicals." She took off her sandals and walked down the slope to the water. She knelt down and touched the surface with her fingers. The slight touch sent ripples across the surface. Tiffany drew back her fingers in surprise. The water had a tingly feel, as if she dipped her fingers in static electricity. 

Her initial thought was, "Acid? Or alkali?" but there was no burning sensation. She touched the water and held her fingers to the surface. When she drew them back, they tingled; a not-unpleasant feeling. Her skin was intact and still no burning. She touched her wet fingers to the tip of her tongue. The taste was mild, salty, and slightly acidic. Tiffany cocked an eyebrow, "It tastes like soda water," she realized, "My god! I'm looking at a pool full of Evian!"

She knelt and dipped her hand to the wrist. "This feels kind of good," she thought. She stood up and looked around; other than her breathing, the place was quiet, "I wonder what it would feel like to swim in it?" She had to be careful: it would be embarrassing if someone walked in, and she was still trespassing. The experience, however, might be a story in itself.

She tentatively dipped a toe in the water. It felt like she touched a vibrator. Tiffany cautiously stepped into the pool. An electric feeling crept up her body as she immersed herself; it was almost ticklish. The water was cool; when it reached her crotch, she gasped, "Oh!" She hadn't anticipated the effect of the strange liquid on her pussy. 

Tiny fingers played along her slit; a throbbing warmth pulsed in her briefs. "God! I think I'm getting wet," she whispered. Tiffany walked further into the pool. Her breathing became heavy as the water crept past her torso to her breasts. Her nipples grew hard; the pinprick details and areolas showing on her bra. "What is this stuff?" she gasped.

Tiffany took a deep breath and plunged into the water. It was like swimming in champagne; thousands of tiny hands danced along her skin. The strange water didn't hurt her eyes. She saw, clearly, the turquoise pattern of the pool. The experience was exhilarating and exhausting. The water played a symphony, her body was the instrument, her sex, the music. She could feel her juices seep through the bottoms.

Eventually, Tiffany had to surface; she broke the water, gasping and twitching. "Oh my God! I think I just came!" she gasped, "This water is amazing!"

She swam to the floor and walked out of the pool. She sat near the water to think; tingling liquid dripped off her body. "That was incredible!" she thought, "There's a story here, I just have to figure how to write it. Let's see, 'Lost Genius' Final Trick'? It might work, but what trick? Water that makes people come? It has to be something else." She listed the possibles, "Health drink? Spa? Hmm, maybe. Damn! The only person who knows is dead! I'm stuck with the biggest story of my career, and I don't have an angle! Maybe I can find some clues in the house."

Tiffany stood and started toward the doors, then stopped and took another look at the water. "Hmm, maybe another swim," she thought, stepping forward. The blonde reporter stopped for a second, looked at her bikini, and looked around. Looking back at that moment, Tiffany never completely understood why she did it. She never did anything like it before. Maybe at the time, she was thinking, "There's no one around; who's to know? What does it feel like naked?" Whatever the reason, some carnal curiosity compelled her.

And so, Tiffany Wells, the hot twenty-five-year-old journalist, fulfilled the fantasies of her editor and countless other male admirers by stripping off her bikini. Her ample double-Ds bounced free, her scant brown muff, different from her long blonde hair, exposed. "Yeah, my boss would love to see this," she smirked. Tiffany, in the past, had turned down offers to pose for Playboy and Penthouse. She wanted to be taken seriously as a journalist. "I broke a lot of photographers' hearts," she thought, stepping into the pool.

Tiffany plunged into the water, splashing and laughing; letting the electric liquid build her to a new climax; unaware that her life was about to undergo a drastic change in just a few moments.

To Be Continued

Dr. Porneau's Pet: 02



Dr. Porneau's Pet: Part 2

by Prevert One


	Dr. Armand Porneau, who was neither dead nor missing, watched the beautiful young woman splashing playfully in his pool.  "Wow!" he thought, "I've seen some big'uns in my time, but damn! Thank you Ms. Wells and thank you God for creating her."

	Dr. Porneau's knowledge of Tiffany was acquired through etat du art technology: motion and sound detectors planted throughout the island, house, and pool; hidden cameras covering every inch of property. The moment Tiffany set foot on the island, she was tracked. "Wow!" he thought, "Will you look at that!"

	Typically, people who trespassed were either stray surfers, boaters, or drug runners. Their looks ranged from butt ugly to reasonably hot, but nothing like Tiffany. The surfers and boaters he ignored; they usually left after a few hours. The druggies he gave to the Coast Guard, or if they were inclined to set up shop, his pets. 

	Tiffany was a rare treat; within seconds of stepping ashore, her face was on Porneau's monitors. A few taps on the keyboard conjured up her driver's license, birth certificate, college diploma, and Facebook profile. "What's this girl doing wasting her time as a reporter?" he asked, "She belongs in Playboy or Penthouse."

	Porneau watched Tiffany wander around the grounds. The house was secure; Porneau had the place sealed tight after his accident. She went to the back aaand, "Oooo, she's found the poolhouse." Porneau's cameras followed the girl, "Come on! Come on! Go in! Yes!"

	He switched to the pool's cameras and watched her approach the water, "Oh boy. Is she going to take a swim?" The water was special; a little concoction between him and one of his pets. It was a genetic brew with aphrodisiac properties.

	Originally he had plans to market it as a perfume additive, "It's no more harmful than whale puke." The accident disrupted those plans. "Oh! She's going in!" He zoomed on the blonde; she stepped into the water. "Oooo! This is going to be good," he thought, licking his lips.

	Porneau's accident may have changed his body somewhat, but he was still a red-blooded American male. He never minced words about his admiration for female anatomy. Even before the accident, people were shocked by his crude, blunt, vernacular. They expected a genius, not an overgrown fratboy. "I am a genius, so I can act like an overgrown fratboy," Porneau replied.

	Porneau jolted when Tiffany gasped at the water's touch. "Ah boy, it's up to her pussy. Come on, a little further." When the water was up to her chest, Tiffany's nipples perked. Porneau switched to the underwater cameras. He saw how they stood out in the fabric of her bikini bra. She had wide half-dollar areolas, "Damn! She is hot!"

	Porneau took his cock and began to stroke. His accident left him unable to wear pants; he didn't even need lubricant for related reasons. He watched the blonde move through the water, timing his strokes to hers. She broke the surface and orgasmed; he matched it with a blast from his prodigious member. 

	"Oh man," he thought, thankful he had the foresight to point away from the monitors. He pressed the button for the autocleaner (a gift from his technologically gifted counterpart), "You're going to be busy tonight," he told it.

	The curvy blonde splashed ashore. She sat for a few moments, quivering, muttering. "Ah, she's trying to figure the water out." She stood and started towards the door, "Uh uh! We can't have that. I want this honey to stay awhile." 

	Porneau's finger hovered near a switch, but wait! The girl stopped. "What's she doing?" Tiffany walked back towards the water, a pensive look on her face. She looked around the hall, then at the pool. A decision was made; she reached behind her back, "Oh no! She's not going to do it, is she?!"

	Porneau was drooling; his wish (and the aforementioned editor's) was confirmed as Tiffany untied the bikini bra, freeing those wondrous melons, "Yes!" and then the bottoms. Porneau zoomed on the crotch, "Dark muff, not too bushy, I like that."

	The girl ran back into the water and began to play. Porneau's cameras showed every curve, captured every move, from the water-influenced conical tits to her spread legs. He saw her pussy, swollen with water-induced lust, and made a decision of his own, "That does it! I'm bringing out Roger." 

	Porneau's career as a government-connected mad scientist was not without hiccups. The accident responsible for his altered condition was a prime example. When it occurred, the government wanted to move him to a secret research facility in Nevada. He'd been to the lab before, on business. It was a shithole.

	"Boring as fuck." Porneau promptly informed the "men in black" that he had enough goods on enough important people to cause catastrophic damage. If the media found out, and the media would, "If you assholes even think of putting me in that pit." Besides, he didn't trust his research in the hands of "Those fucking idiots."

	He made a deal; he'd stay on the island, throw some genetic tidbits their way; they'd leave him alone while he worked on his personal problem.

	Dr. Porneau, with considerable government assistance, moved his research lab and living quarters underground. The island was hollowed out; vast underground tanks were constructed for his pets. The swimming pool was modified; the island was stocked with state-of-the-art-surveillance.

	The house was sealed, the lab and living quarters packed with the most advanced technology. "Not quite a shithole," he thought. The living area looked more like a bachelor pad. The lab was world-class. Porneau occupied his time searching for cures to his condition.

	Porneau's pets were byproducts of years of research, combining and re-combining DNA, usually sea animals. Usually he euthanized the results, but occasionally he kept one or two for various reasons. Some produced profitable chemicals; others were kind of cute; and some provided entertainment, like Roger.

	Porneau named him after Roger Corman. He considered naming him Russ after Russ Meyer, but decided Roger was more appropriate. Porneau was playing around with some DNA, "A little octopus here, some sea slug there, a touch of whale, a dab of lamprey. Boy! I can't wait to see what comes out. Bwahahahaha!"

	The result was something that squirted what looked like invisible ink. He examined the substance and found properties similar to ambergris. It was extremely water-soluble. Porneau tested it on lab rats and watched them shag each other into a coma. He took another look at the substance and thought, "Kaching! Kaching!"

	A perfume additive that could mean millions, 'billions!' in moola. Unfortunately his accident happened shortly thereafter, delaying his project indefinitely. Meanwhile, Roger grew from a little squidling into a big, horny....well, Tiffany was about to find out. 

	Porneau tapped a few keys, flipped a couple of switches, then sat back to watch the fun.

	Tiffany was too busy playing, enjoying the water on her bare skin, to notice at first. The French doors silently closed and locked. Several tiles on the floor leading to the pool slid open, revealing hidden nozzles. The nozzles trickled water over the tiled slope, turning the floor into a slippery, frictionless trap.

	A grinding clank, as of a chain moving across metal, reverberated through the poolhouse. Tiffany stopped; she floated in the pool, her pleasure forgotten, "?! What was that?" 

	She looked at the floor and noticed the water. Her bikini floated in the pool, swept in by the water flow. Then she noticed the doors were closed and felt a chill crawl up her spine, "Uh oh; I think it's time to leave."

	Tiffany started to swim towards the floor when she heard another sound. It began as a series of gurgles that seemed to emanate from beneath the pool. They were followed by a "whoosh!", similar to a washing machine as it filled with water.

	Tiffany tread water and heard more clanks and grinds; a 'cluk! cluk! cluk! cluk!' sound of chains working their way through gears. The pool began to vibrate, ripples spreading through the water. Tiffany's chill became a cold fear, "Ok, now it's really time to leave!" She swam toward the floor, unaware of the horror unfolding beneath her.

	A crack appeared on the tiled bottom; bubbles began an effervescent flow from it. The crack traveled in a straight line, before turning ninety degrees, traveling and turning until it formed a square. The square was a panel, a large underwater door, that receded and moved to the side, leaving a large black hole. 

	Two glowing eyes appeared in the darkness; eyes that grew larger; eyes that were focused on the prey above. Through the hole came Roger. Tiffany, focused on getting to the floor, didn't notice Roger coming behind her. He was a surprisingly quiet creature for all his size and bulk. 

	Tiffany's feet just brushed the bottom when she felt a tap at her shoulder. The startled woman turned around to look and, "Aaaaaah!!"

To Be Continued 



Dr. Porneau's Pet: 03



It is....difficult to describe Roger. He didn't quite look like an octopus. His head wasn't quite as bulbous. It was more narrow. He had eight tentacles, but none of the suckers or hooks typical of octopi or squid. They were thick and scaly, like a boa constrictor or eel; and one tentacle, the thickest one actually, looked ominously like a big, long....well, Roger was male.

He didn't have a beak, just a pink slit, "Looks like a pussy," Porneau giggled; between the curious tentacle and Roger's mouth, "Roger can literally fuck himself." His color was bluish-gray, with rust-colored blotches splattered across the skin. His eyes were black slits in golden orbs.

Armand laughed; he thought it was fun. He never considered himself sadistic, just a man with a perverted sense of humor. "So I like scaring women," he thought, "Man! Look at those boobies bounce!"; besides Roger wasn't going to hurt her, "He just wants to play."

Tiffany...eeehhh, didn't appreciate Roger's playful intentions. She splashed frantically towards the floor; her terror dampened the water's arousing effects. "Goddageddawaygoddageddaway! Whatisthisthing!" raced through her mind, journalistic ambition subsumed by survival instinct. She almost cried in relief when her feet touched the bottom.

"Go Tiff! Get to the door! Get to the door!" She didn't get far. The water slick tiles on the floor made traction impossible. Tiffany found herself unable to ascend the slope. Her panicked backward crawl became almost comic. 

"Oh noooo!!" she screamed as, to her extreme horror, she slid on her ass back into the pool. "No! No! Get away! Help!" Tiffany screamed as she kicked at the tentacles, trying to wrap around her ankles. One tentacle found purchase and dragged her, shrieking, into the water.

Roger's eyes blinked impassively, as he managed to get a tentacle around the other leg. "Aaah! No! Help!" she shrieked, weeping with terror. Much of what occurred next happened below the surface.

Using his tentacles, Roger held Tiffany above his body. Only Tiffany's head and breasts were above the water. The water's clarity, in spite of her panicked thrashings, allowed the blonde to see everything. 

A tentacle wrapped around her waist, just below the navel. "No! No! Get off!" Tiffany pounded at it with her fists. She tried to grab it but the tentacle was oily and slick, thwarting her attempts.

The tentacle around her ankle, snaked up the calf, spiraling to the upper leg, while its opposite enwrapped the other. Tiffany watched in horror as the creature parted her legs to either side of its body. "Oh God! Oh God! Nooo! What's it doing?!" she cried.

"I'd like to know too," a bemused Porneau concurred. He switched to the underwater cameras and zoomed on her pelvic area. Porneau got a good, clear view of Tiffany's bush and pussy, with her asshole just below it. When he saw what Roger was up to, he laughed and pressed the recorder, "Well, it worked on the dolphins."

Tiffany watched in shocked horror as the creature did something completely unexpected. A tentacle slithered over her left thigh, across her short cut bush, to her pussy. Its tip divided into two tiny fingers. The fingers delicately parted her pussy lips, exposing her vulva.

The struggling blonde had to cope with a flood of arousal, as water washed over her clit. "Urrg! What is this thing doing?!" she asked a second time. Her answer came when the creature's thick, curiously shaped tentacle swam towards her open cunt.

Tiffany now knew what was about to happen, "Oh no! Not that! Not there!" She increased her struggles, trying to reach beneath to grab the tentacle. The appendage darted away from her desperate fingers.

It seemed to hesitate near the pink, moist opening before darting inward. "Noooo!" Tiffany howled as she was penetrated. The creature's length passed through her vaginal canal; its girth stretched her walls to the limit. She closed her eyes and ground her teeth, moaning from the pain.

Tiffany's shock was compounded by another surprise sensation; pleasure, as her water-swollen clit was further aroused by the tentacle's passage. 

"No! Unnng! Stop!" cried the blonde, gritting her teeth. Her body was at war, as pleasure and pain competed for territory. Tiffany was too distracted to notice the tickle at her ass crack. "Oh no!" she cried. "Oh yes!" cried Armand, as he watched one of Roger's tentacles enter the blonde's bunghole. 

"Aaarrg! This can't be happening! It's not happening! It's a nightmare! Please be a nightmare!" Tiffany begged. Once again, she tried to remove the tentacle, only to be frustrated by their oily slickness. The tentacle in her cunt, rhythmically began to pump back and forth, sliding through her fingers.

Her sphincter reflexively tightened, trying to halt the passage of the tentacle through her anus, but ultimately, was unable to prevent the tip from reaching her rectum.

Porneau was treated to a view of the tentacles pumping Tiffany in alternate movements. The pussy tentacle would withdraw while the ass tentacle thrust, and vice versa. Porneau responded with some pumps of his own.

Tiffany growled in frustration and, to her mortification, began a series of rhythmic grunts in response, "Nooo! Urrrg! Unnng! Ugh!...Ugh!...Ugh!...Ugh!" She shook her head in denial, even as her thighs and pelvis moved up and down, in involuntary crunches and counter-thrusts.

The monster's thrusts brought its tentacle closer to the womb, and Tiffany closer to orgasm. "Unngh! I'm being raped by an octopus thing! And I'm about to cum! Come on, Tiff! Fight it!" She closed her tear streaked eyes and bit her lip, trying desperately to resist the coming onslaught.

Tiffany's body betrayed her, however, and she cursed as an orgasm blasted through its length, bending her nearly double with its intensity. Tiffany's head plunged underwater; she arched her back in a near U-shape, leaving just her breasts and roiling belly above the surface.

"Gaarrrg!" she gurgled; a stream of bubbles issued from her mouth. The wave passed and Tiffany's body resumed its normal configuration. Her head broke the surface, gasping and choking. The creature continued to pump. Tiffany felt another wave building, "Oh no! Please, no!"

Armand stared at the screen agog, "Geez! I didn't know a body could do that! Not a woman's body, anyhow!" He'd already shot some jizz against the wall, "Time for the autocleaner." 

"What's Roger doing?" he asked. Roger's two remaining tentacles were snaking up the buxom blonde's body. "Oh!" he realized, "Well, I guess it's a good time to see if those hormones from the water work on her as well as the dolphins." Armand switched to the overhead camera and zoomed on Tiffany's breasts.

To Be Continued



Dr. Porneau's Pet: 04



Tiffany floated on her back, feebly trying to fend off her next climax. Her bounteous boobs heaved, great shiny melons bobbing in the water. Her mind and body were in a whirlpool of conflicting sensations. 

The terror, the horror, the pain and pleasure of tentacles pumping in and out of her ass, her cunt. Her body's betrayal, the orgasm, and the response to the creature; in the back of her mind, Tiffany wondered, "Is it the water? I never came that hard before."

Her musings were interrupted as the creature revealed two more tentacles. "Oh no! What now!" she groaned. The tentacles slid up her grinding pelvis, past her bucking hips, over the tentacle wrapped around her waist. Tiffany's shock and wonderment returned as the tentacles circled her melons, "?!This thing is going for my boobs?!!"

She tried to remove the offending appendages, with the same futile results; weakened by orgasm, unable to grip the slimy ropes, she was helpless as the tentacles began to pump and squeeze. 

Tiffany was ambivalent about her breast size, but one aspect she did like was their sensitivity. They weren't hypersensitive, she wore bras comfortably but, in instants of self-pleasure, they did well enough. A couple of past boyfriends were good about the subject.

Her current situation confused the issue. Tiffany's sensitive cantaloupes were sending electric shocks through her body, combining with the water and ass/cunt pumps to set off another orgasm, "Ugh!...Ugh!....Oh no!....Ugh!....I'm cumming again!" "Oh yes!" said Armand, "She's cumming again!"

The climax washed over Tiffany, flopping her within Roger's grasp. Her hips and pelvis pumped up and down, her head and arms churned the water. She screamed a high pitched, "EEEE!" before settling, with an exhausted "sigh!" into the pool. "She sounded like the dolphins on that one," Armand thought.

Roger continued to pork the blonde, thrusting ever closer to her cervix. Tiffany no longer struggled, resigned to her next orgasm. She accepted that she couldn't stop the creature; it had complete control of her body. She wondered, with some detachment, "How am I going to write this story? Presuming it doesn't drown or eat me first?"

It was a challenge, thinking of an angle: looking for a mad scientist, swimming in orgasm inducing water, getting raped by the octopus monster from hell; "Not quite what I expected for vacation," she thought.

Tiffany's grunts unconsciously assumed a rhythmic beat, "Ugh!....Ugh!....Ugh!....Ugh!..." She felt the tentacle thrust further towards her womb. The implications were too much for Tiffany; she focused on her assets, "! What's happening to my boobs?!" 

The tentacles pumped and squeezed the soft, tender melons. Her pink nipples blushed and swelled into tiny knobs; white beads appeared on her tits, growing until, "Splurt!" 

"?!! Milk?!!" cried Tiffany. "Milk!!" cried Armand. Tiffany's lower jaw dropped as her breasts squirted white fountains. "Splat! Splash! Splat!" went the milk as it hit the water. "But...But...I'm not suppose to lactate! I'm not pregnant!" a confused and mortified Tiffany wondered.

Armand, who had an excellent overhead view of Tiffany's cream spewing melons, cried "God Bless the water! Oh! Roger's got another surprise!"

Tiffany came with her most intense orgasm yet. Her shock and horror had diminished to a grudging ambivalence. She had to admit, in spite of the circumstances, the orgasms were the most intense she'd ever experienced.

"How can I have sex with people after this?" she wondered; to add to the confusion, the sight of her milk squirting boobs gave her a strange pleasure. She opened her mouth and caught a few drops, licking her lips at the creamy sweetness. "Well, this is a hellavaway to go nuts," she thought.

When the creature repositioned her body, Tiffany didn't cringe. Roger opened his "mouth" to reveal a new feature. A long, red, tentacled protrusion unspooled from the orifice. It slithered past the thrusting tentacle, over the waist, to the milky udders. 

Tiffany watched as the tip opened, revealing a new mouth, webbed, with suckers instead of teeth. "Oh! What is it?!" Her answer came when the long mouth fastened on her sensitive right nipple; with loud "slurps!" it began to gulp down the milk.

That was it for Tiffany. There was a new sensation to add to the others. Between the sensitive breast milking, the orgasmic water wash, and the constant pussy and ass pump, Tiffany gave up. "Oh fuck!" she cried and embraced the profanity.

The orgasms came, one on top of the other. Tiffany's thoughts were subsumed by the endless cycle of fuck-cum-relax, fuck-cum-relax. 

Armand got an all angles view of Tiffany's gyrating body: cream spewing udders, Roger alternating between the two; rolling torso, banded by tentacle; swollen cunt, lips spread wide, pumping pussy juice into the water, tentacle deep diving in, out; its smaller brother, sliding in and out the ass, moving over the coccyx, between the curves.

Tiffany's body bobbed up and down. Her gasps and grunts blended with Roger's slurps, and the water splashes. "Oh man!" said Armand, "Better than any porno!"

Roger eventually got bored with fucking Tiffany in the pool. It was time to take her to his lair for further attention. "Oh man! I think Rog's taking her home!" Armand thought.

Roger still fucked Tiffany as he drew her to the bottom. She had some presence of mind to draw in breath before complete submergence. She followed, attached to his tentacles, arms and long blonde hair waving behind; a faint, blissful look on her face.

Armand prepared to switch to the underwater tank that served as Roger's home. He wasn't concerned about Roger eating the blonde; Roger's tastes ran to plankton, breast milk, and...well Tiffany would find out soon enough; nor would Tiffany drown; the tank was full enough to adequately accommodate Roger, but there had to be air for the dolphins.

Armand didn't turn on the lights in the tank; Roger glowed in the dark. When Armand switched to the tank's cameras, however, he hit a snag. There was no video, only audio. "Damn!" he cursed. Armand had the computer run a diagnostic while he turned up the audio. 

He heard Tiffany's "gasp!" as she sucked in air. Then, "ugh!....ugh!....ugh!....EEEE!....sigh!" with "slurp!....slurp!....slurp!" and "splash!" as background. It was almost musical: "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! EEEE! Sigh!"

"Damn! I wish I could see that! Well, the night's still young and Roger hasn't done the other thing. I can't wait to see how she turns out. Bwahahahahaha!!" 

To Be Continued...



Dr. Porneau's Pet: 05



Dr. Porneau's Pet: Roger Does The Other Thing

Tiffany floated in liquid bliss, dreaming of Mark, an ex-boyfriend. He was doing the thing he did so well. "Mmmm! That's good Mark, keep going," she purred. They were by the pool at her parents' house: Spring Break '04. She was lying against Mark. Mark's wonderful artist hands were kneading and sculpting her breasts. Tiffany was hot and wet. "I'm going to fuck him soon," she thought, "if only he wasn't such a shit." 

Mark tended to sleep with his models, which was why she broke up with him. "Hey! Why am I thinking about that?!" she asked. "Wait, I didn't find out about the models until a year later. Which means this isn't '04...which means I'm dreaming...which means I'm actually....Oh no!!"

Tiffany opened her eyes, expecting to see the monster, its tentacles inside her, its mouth sucking and pumping. Instead it was something else, an unexpected shock.

She didn't know what to process first. The two deformed hands, elongated fingers studded with tiny suction cups, squeezing and massaging her breasts (which squirted milk with the same fountaining intensity as before)? Or the swollen round blob of flesh that used to be her flat belly? 

"Omigod!! I'm knocked up?!!" she asked. Her memories of the tank were a vague swirl of orgasms, punctuated by wet slurps and watery gurgles. She didn't exactly remember feeling her belly bloat; just a loud gurgle as of a water balloon filling. All other sensations were obscured by her numerous orgasms.

Tiffany's mind ping ponged back and forth. She settled on the hands; their expert boob-diddling, grudgingly acknowledged. Tiffany looked up and gasped. "Hi," said Dr. Porneau. 

His arms were over her shoulders, hands brought to her breasts, kneading away. He was kind of cute; a geeky, nerdy cute. He had curly, bushy black hair, gray-blue eyes, a long straight nose, a thin mouth. He looked just like the pictures from the tabloids.

Tiffany liked what she saw but couldn't ignore his nudity, his boob-molesting hands, and the fact there was a monster in the pool, "What?! Hey!! You're alive?!! And....wait! Stop that!! Get off me!!" 

Dr. Porneau looked at her blankly, "Uh no?"

Tiffany struggled, a feeble spasm of belated outrage. "It's no use struggling; I gave you a sedative. Besides, we're kind of entangled at the moment," Porneau said. 

"But....but....we have to get away! There's a.....thing!" cried Tiffany.

"I know, I know. It's my pet Roger. He's kind of a horn dog. He'll pork just about anything that moves." "He's your...what?!!" Tiffany incredulous. "Well, up to this point, it's been mostly dolphins and seals. You're the first blonde," Porneau smiled. "You!...You!...You let that thing in the pool with me!! "Weeellll, you were hot and I wanted to see what Roger would do. I don't usually get hot girls on the island. More often it's drug dealers and old fishermen. Maybe an occasional surfer," Porneau's unrepentant tone was infuriating.

"You bastard! Oooh! I'll kill you! Look at me; I'll sue! I'll have you arrested! You broke so many goddamn laws! I'm a reporter, dammit! I'll tell! I'll ruin your ass!" Tiffany struggled, but the sedatives were powerful.

Armand waited until she calmed before he spoke. "Uh, before you sue me, or kill me, or bury me, can I say something? Uh, I'm a rich and powerful geneticist, kind of a mad scientist? I have close connections with powerful people, including government. I made some phone calls while Roger was...well. Right now your boat is gone and, um, you've sort of disappeared. Temporarily, of course, but it can be permanent."

"You can't do this! It's illegal!"

"I'm rich, powerful, and connected. I can do anything," Armand replied, "Now, um, I'm going to move you a bit. I want you to see something."

Armand shifted his body; Tiffany saw they were in a shallow part of the pool. "His body feels soft," she thought, "Soft, warm, and pliable." She felt something wriggle near the crack of her ass. Her breasts "squished!" as Armand continued his massage. She struggled not to admit the massage felt good, "Almost as good as....no! Can't think of that!" 

Armand propped her so she could see over the curve of her belly. Her legs were spread and tangled in "Pink taffy?" No, tentacles; pale, pink, and studded with suckers. They spiraled around her legs, from the thighs to the ankles. They held her open, exposing her sex swollen labia.

The tentacles were not the unsettling part; Tiffany was more than familiar with tentacles. The color, the same skin color as the hands fondling her melons, was the shocker. "Those are...those are...." she stuttered. 

"Yes they are," Armand replied. 

"But....but....but how?!"

"Just a stupid accident, really. I was monkeying around with some mollusk DNA. There was a storm, a lightning flash. I was startled and jabbed myself with the needle. I'd go into details, but you're a reporter. I can't trust you just yet."

"I'll say!" Tiffany thought, "I've hit the jackpot! Giant monsters! Mutated mad scientists! If I can figure a way out of this mess, I'll be famous! Pulitzer famous!"

Armand moved his hands to her belly. "I know what you're thinking," he said, "I can't let you go right now, at least until we figure out what to do with you."

Tiffany felt another chill; she realized the danger she was in, "So why am I still alive? And what's that, uh, bump I feel?"

"That's my dick. It's very pliable, see?" Tiffany gasped as Armand's cock slid through the crack of her ass. "N-n-no! Ung!" she grunted as the member snaked across the rectal walls. Her sphincter crunched, but couldn't stop Armand's penetration. He plumbed almost to her lower intestine. Meanwhile, his hands stroked her sensitive belly, from navel to just below the melons. A ticklish and intensely arousing feeling warred with the deep invasion. 

"No! Stop! Urrnng!" Tiffany grunted. Her belly and breasts heaved against Armand's hands. She ground her teeth, clenched and unclenched her hands. Her body was shiny with milk, sweat, water, and sex.

"It's been years since I've had some, and you're the hottest item to come on the island since, well ever. I'm taking advantage while I can."

Tiffany's outrage outweighed the mild flattery she felt. Her traitorous body quivered in response to the belly rub; speaking of which, "Ung! What...what happened to my belly ?"

"Oh, that's just the embryos. Roger has all sorts of DNA; he pumped a bunch of it in you. I didn't see myself, the camera malfunctioned, but the sperm found your eggs, so you're going to be a mother.....temporarily." 

"What do you mean, temporarily?" she asked.

"Oh don't worry; I've seen the movie. They won't bust out of your stomach. It'll be quite conventional, actually. In fact, you might even enjoy it; the dolphins did. No, what I meant to say is Roger has certain gastronomic tastes. He enjoys fish, breast milk, and, well, his own young. He's just waiting for the embryos to develop. It happens reasonably quick. I'm rubbing your belly because you look sexy pregnant."

" So....so....mmmm  Roger is part human?" 

"Just enough to fertilize you; and I do believe I heard a moan." 

"No you didn't!"

"Yes I did," Armand said, stroking Tiffany's navel, "To your credit, you lasted longer in the water than I thought."

"Mmmm, the water. The water's part of it, isn't it?"

"It's Roger's love juice, apart from the jizz he put inside you. It's absorbed through the skin, or ingested. It arouses, and breaks down inhibitions. It's pretty potent. I could make billions on perfumes and additives alone."

The balance was shifting from outrage to arousal. Tiffany tried to summon further reserves of indignation, "But...ughn! This water's dangerous. Look what happened to me."

"Well, I would argue you did to yourself. You're the one who went swimming. You could have left, but you did it again, and come on. Look me in the eye and say you didn't enjoy it."

Tiffany looked at Armand and bit her lip, 

"And Roger?"

Tiffany opened her mouth to shout "No!" but, to her shock, found herself closing it . "Maybe," she muttered.

"Well...close enough. You have another chance to find out."

Tiffany was in heat by this time. Her pussy leaked juice into the water. There was a burst of bubbles; Roger had returned, attracted by her scent. She didn't feel terror; there was a different emotion, "I can't want him can I?"

Armand stroked her belly. She felt movement in her womb, her belly throbbed. "Hmmm, I do believe you're going into labor," Armand said. 

"Huff!...Huff!...Huff!...Mmmm! Unng!" Tiffany replied.

Armand moved their bodies until Tiffany was flat against him. His tentacled legs parted hers, exposing her wet pussy. "Roger! Here, Boy!" he said.

Roger's "red mouth" unspooled and fastened upon Tiffany's cunt. It "shhluuurped!" and "gulped!" the juice pouring from her passage. "Uuuunnng! Ummmnn!" Tiffany gasped and moaned from labor and pleasure as Roger's progeny passed through her cervix. She bucked her hips and moved her pelvis in a half-involuntary belly dance.

Armand's hands moved from Tiffany's belly to her breasts. "Here. I'd like to show you a new trick I acquired from the injection," he said.

"What? Oh! Oooo! What? Ugh!" she gasped.

Armand bent across her shoulder, at an impossible angle for a human, until his mouth was over her left nipple; with his hands and mouth he squeezed and sucked the white cream from her melon. The touch of Armand's tongue on her nipple, the passage of Roger's young across her G-spot, was too much for the busty reporter. She came, hard; amniotic fluid, cum, and Roger's firstborn squirted down his throat.

"Oh! Mmmm! Oh no! Oh no! Nnnmmg!" she cried. Tiffany raised her arms and put them around Armand's neck. She arched her back and ground her pelvis, while Armand sucked one breast and massaged the other; meanwhile, Roger slurped out another progeny. 

Tiffany was cumming white hot, barely thinking, gasping, "Oh no!....Oh no!....Oh no!"

"Slurp! I was thinking...slurp! I believe...slurp! I know a way...slurp!...to help both of us...slurp!" Armand said. "If...slurp!...if you would like...slurp!...an exclusive interview...slurp!... with me, plus...slurp!...the opportunity...slurp!...for future employment...slurp!...would you...slurp!...be willing to listen...slurp!...to my proposition...SSSLLLUUURRRP!?"

Tiffany, who wasn't exactly listening to anything at the moment, said, "Oh no!....Oh no!....Oh!....Yes! Yes! Yeeesss!" Armand gave a brief explanation; then he and Roger slurped and sucked Tiffany through the night and into the morning.

*

Dr. Porneau's Pet: Conclusion

Tiffany admired her body in the mirror. She was in a bedroom of Armand's newly restored mansion; her bedroom, Armand lived mostly underground. She was buxom and curvy, admiring her flat toned belly. "It's amazing," she thought, how elastic her womb had become. 

In the past couple of years, many things had gone into that womb; and what years: The Pulitzer Prize winning article (she gave the story to a rival paper; her former editor was so pissed, she had to have him arrested for leaving death threats on her answering machine 

The Tiffany of two years and a day ago, never considered the remotest possibility of sex with genetically engineered aquatic mutants; much less enjoying it. The marathon fucks, the white hot orgasms, and the sensuous water, created a far different Tiffany; a sexy, libidinous water nymph, unhibited. If that meant carrying mutant progeny from time to time, so be it.

"Maybe one day I'll have human babies," she speculated, "Right now it's time for a swim." She went to the poolhouse, wet and ready. Tiffany still had the white bikini but never wore it. She never wore anything around the house; it was private and she was always bare before Armand.

They were waiting for her, Armand, Roger, and "Oh! Something new!" Tiffany smiled and walked right in.

The End