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Enter the Amazon

By: xxxecil



This story and theme was suggested and inspired by a fan, who asked me to make his vision a reality. XXXecil can perform his magic for others, if desired.

Part 1: Rewritten Loyalties

"Is she still at it?" Private Matthew Bellows asked the security officer, a Corporal, in the chair beside him, as both of the blond, crew-cut soldiers glared with unabashed delight at the image displayed in one of dozens of screens linking every security camera in the east wing of the lonely, black-budget bunker. One of the screens, on the upper left corner in the 3rd row displayed the inside of a holding cell more secret than Top-Secret. Bellows nearly gagged on his coffee; ice blue eyes widening as he beheld the occupant.

It wasn't their fault; the Quartermaster had more than enough of the flimsy, hospital-style gowns for everyone, yet she absolutely refused to wear them, or anything for that matter. Her toned arms violently shredded the garments as if the mere notion that she should cover up her nudity was an affront. But she was cunning, with a wily intelligence burning behind those jade-green eyes which were only occasionally opened as the prisoner writhed in her self-inflicted ecstasy. The cloth they had wanted her to wear, along with strips of smooth plastic and other unidentified objects had all been woven together into an simple but effective dildo, which she used upon her naked flesh with a relish even greater than those who voyeuristically observed her.

Her nude form had an oiled sleekness common amongst competitive body-builders and some professional models to emphasize their curves and muscles, yet the ripeness of her upraised ass and the rippling bounce of healthy breasts gave an impression quite different from that of an athlete. An obscene rhythm began; from the hastily cobbled sex-toy grinding a liquid path through the gaping welcome of her womanhood, and between the sway of those glistening breasts as the prisoner squatted on all fours; masturbating herself furiously amidst feral grunts. At first, as Private Bellows watched wide-eyed, it seemed as though there were two jiggles of her bosom with each hard thrust into an ever moistening cunt. But as the lurid captive spread her legs further upon her simple bunk, the pattern of her indecent exercise changed more towards rapid thrusts, a quicker grinding of her dildo, so that the jiggling, throbbing action of her slick, naked boobs had almost been outpaced by the frenzy between her legs. 

"And I thought I'd seen it all; what's the story on this piece of ass?" Bellows asked Security Officer Maxwell.

"Ehhh....access to her files....." one of the screens lit up with plain, white text on a black background. "Jane Louise Simcox, of Phoenix Arizona....Age...age 59...?"

" 'The Hell? You got the right file?" Bellows crinkled his brow with incredulity. "Look at that slut! Not a wrinkle, not a grey hair, no sagging, she's got the body of a porn-star! Err....maybe a runway model...either one! There's no way she's a day over thirty!"

"I hear you, but that's the file on the prisoner in this cell." Maxwell added defensively. "Think about it," he mused. "This bunker is out in the middle of nowhere, and Uncle Sam uses this dump to lock up all the deepest, darkest secrets that can't be allowed to see the light of day."

"Yeah, I guess so. But...wow...Lookit her, I mean that face alone could get her a modeling contract in a snap!" The young private observed.

"Naw...check out those tits; I'm sure they're real, but those prissy weirdo fashion model types don't like girls with anything over a C-cup." Officer Maxwell sagely noted. "Our gal has at least five...maybe six inches of pure boob jiggling around on her chest, D-cup for sure. Maybe double D." 

"Soooo....there's something out there that turns 59-year old grandmothers into randy little exhibitionists with bodies like college Co-eds, supermodel faces, and the sex-drives of....of....some....way horny nymphomaniac slut." Matthew concluded.

"And it's a threat to National Security."

"Heh! A part o' me kinda hopes we've got a pandemic!"

Her orgasm was, in a word - transcendent. There was no doubt when the climax seized her; her ample hips leaped, and her toned and taut belly rippled as she humped the shaft and hand that held it. The expression in her green - too green eyes was like religious conversion. The glistening sparkle of her moist skin seemed more pronounced as she blushed and flushed with erotic fever. Where her breasts jiggling only from her own thrashing upon the bed, or where her twin mammaries possessed of some sexual energy all their own? Matthew Bellows unconsciously allowed his jaw to droop, filled with a sudden instinct to kiss, fondle, and suckle these succulent gems of womanhood bobbing and wobbling before him.

Not until the orgasm had fully subsided did she seem to notice them. Yet both young men had a sense that the entire display was for their own benefit. Her green....green eyes stared fixedly at the security camera in her cell, as if to announce her awareness, her eagerness to whomever might be watching.

And she began to dance; yet...it was more than dance. It was primal, scintillating rhythm of thrusts, grinds, and caresses of her skin that seemed to touch something inside each male. From the first shifting of her round, shapely ass, it was apparent that this was no less than a mating dance; yet somehow more.

"Ha, the slut knows we're watching and....and she thinks...she thinks we're gonna let her go?" Maxwell was incredulous; it was a ridiculous notion!

"Are...are we supposed ta get so horny that we'll let her out of her cell? What a stupid.....slut..." But Bellows' voice had begun to trail off as his eyes riveted his attention to the screen where the creature that had been Janet Simcox gyrated with indecent abandon. Her movements were far more than what they appeared to be; as both soldiers leered at her, something had clicked inside their minds. The Dance awakened a baser, primitive cycle that went beyond reason, or logic. How could the mere swaying and turning of her broad, womanly hips seduce them so?

"She's...crazy...we won't....let her go.....not....for a dance..." slurred Maxwell, the agonizing tightness in his uniform pants almost, but not quite enough to rouse his drugged mind to full consciousness. 

"Won't.....let her....go....won't...." droned Private Bellows.

In fact, the instincts being awakened by her mating dance began to shut down their minds. They didn't know it, couldn't explain when and where the shift happened, yet soon they were no longer thinking, no longer reasoning. All they could see was the careening throb of delectably buxom D-cups, their minds held no thoughts save the joys that could be found between her naked, gyrating thighs.

They didn't remember leaving their posts, didn't remember shuffling down the blank, concrete corridor. A potent, overwhelming instinct had strangled their minds, leaving behind only images of breast....lips....cunt...

Perhaps if some of the other guards had challenged them, demanded identification they might have awakened. Yet they were well known, and neither Private Bellows nor Officer Maxwell were restricted from this part of the Bunker. Wordlessly they passed...down into an elevator...down into holding cells... past disembodied brains sealed in vats....past cages with animals long believed to be extinct....past cells that contained human prisoners the public believed had been assassinated....The two blond, wiry-muscled soldiers saw none of it, comprehended none of it. In their world, there was only Breast....Lips...Cunt....

Maxwell tore upon the door as if the answer to all of life's mysteries was within, and for these two it was indeed.

The she-creature had once been Janet Simcox, but she had grown so far beyond that menial identity. Now she was whole...now she was complete; and soon every human on this base would find similar fulfillment. But she needed to plan carefully. As the lust-addled soldiers burst into her cell, she immediately selected the younger Private to be her mate, and her delicate hands tore effortlessly through his uniform as her cunt widened on instinct to accept his meaty reward. But the other....

She grasped Corporal Maxwell by the back of his head and thrust him towards the buoyant delight of her firm, wide-aureoled breasts. A turgid nipple slipped into his mouth; and with no hope of escaping the urges that seized him, Maxwell began to suck. It was not milk, no not in the normal sense of the word.

The young officer nearly swooned from the richness of the nectar that he drank; burying his face and mouth into her perfect breasts, he suckled her bounty and surged with joy as a tingling rush passed through him. The taste was not unlike Honeysuckle, yet with a sweet tang reminescent of some rare, South-American fruit. He reveled in the intoxication of her. While Maxwell himself yearned to penetrate this forbidden sex-pot; he found to his surprise that he felt no jealousy as she tore off the pants of Private Bellows, licked his firm and rigid eight inches of manmeat. Nor was Maxwell angry that he was not the one whom this she-devil straddled, using hand...mouth... and tender caresses from her naked thigh to tease and tantalize her mate's cock ever harder.


For Maxwell, as he slid back against the wall of the cell, there was only a blissful awakening. Something...some potent agent in the nectar he'd drank had reached his brain, and he could feel his thoughts being altered...expanded....shifted. There were voices then, and a sensation unlike anything the junior officer had ever imagined. Pressing down upon his consciousness was series of great needs, great hunger, hopes and urges. It was like....like a living group-mind, but so large...so powerful....he knew in an instant that he was now linked to an Over-instinct; a living expression of the Will of Nature. It was a global force that existed within every living creature, and all creatures existed within it. Its desires were as insistent as they were gentle, as irresistable as it was delicate. The beefy, blond Corporal chuckled to himself as he felt his attitudes, his loyalties being rewritten. What a curiously giddy experience to feel your own mind rewired even as you contemplated the wonder of it! 

The Urges, the Great Instinct told him what he must do; he must return to his post and divert suspicions; tell any lie, falsify any information to conceal what just happened to him and Private Bellows. Within this impression came a promise that a Lady would be along soon to give him the gift that was even now being bestowed upon Matthew Bellows; and Maxwell's ecstasy would be no less for having to wait a few hours.

So all there was to do was compose himself and try to act normal. And try not to envy Private Bellows for the delicious mating that was being forced upon him. It was odd though, the honey-blond sex-fiend exerted total control over the horny, yearning male. She pressed him down upon her cot, toying with his penis and sliding her moist body up and down his. Yet the Private was clearly consumed with a pulse-pounding, red-faced sexual excitement impossible through normal brain chemistry; yet the female was clearly in control. She seemed far stronger than any 59 year-old grandmother had a right to be; in fact she seemed a great deal stronger than any late-twenties fitness model had any right to be. Though her mate yearned to mount and penetrate her, that he might vent his lusts within her as fast as possible, she forced him down, straddling him as she impaled herself upon that rigid rod. 

Yet the savage craving that lit up the face of the creature that had once been Janet Simcox seemed a mask of lip-quivering, grunting frenzy that no normal woman could ever know. Maxwell knew that this impossible harlot desired the mating even more than did her male partner! As Maxwell closed the door on the happy couple, he could see the tensing...the thrusting that indicated the first mighty spurts of seed from the Private's tormented rod. Even from afar, it was plain to see the white splashes that escaped from the juncture between the two sexes as they joined....thrusted....ground together. As ravenous as the Simcox she-beast was, she still could not fully contain the full bounty of male reward that shot from the over-stimulated Private. 

Maxwell's last glance at the pair showed the full lips, and elegant face of a woman with no right to possess such youthful beauty, licking clean her fingers to savor each morsel of delight her male partner was able to spurt.

But for her, for the creature that had once been a frumpy, poorly-aging housewife, her work has just begun. It was an impressive display of her powers, that she had so easily unlocked the primal instincts of the two young men, but there were merely the first step in her mission. What mattered more was what occured below her current floor. In the bunker, below her where high-level officers and generals whose Awakening would accomplish her true objective. Below her....

"Your wish...*URRNGT* will be granted....soldiers....*NYAAH*!" That which changed me....Awakened me....will indeed spread!" Promised the sweat-slicked sex-pot in between rhythmic thrusts, as Private Bellows spewed more cum into her than his body had produced the entire week. 

**********

"Gentlemen, I've believed we've isolated the source of the invasion, the 'Patient Zero', as it were." Explained Colonel Caldwell, in the crisp and clean-cut style that matched his personal appearance as he addressed the conference room of balding heads, wrinkled brows, and critical eyes. On the overhead screen behind him, a portrait appeared; apparently a Driver's License photo.

"Dr. Lisa Sorrentino, 38 years old, Professor of Paleobotany and the University of Syracuse, New York." The image on the screen was that of an olive-skinned, proud woman with patrician features and raven-black hair neatly tied into a solid bun behind her head. Next to the first image on the screen appeared a second portrait, one of a woman apparently younger. She had sultry brown eyes and high cheekbones suggesting hispanic descent, with a tousled crown of auburn hair orbiting her head. "Dylsia Jimenez Age 24, a Graduate Student also at the University of Syracuse, and the assistant of Dr. Sorrentino. They are both active members of Greenpeace, who sponsored passage to the Brazilian Amazon rainforest to protest the activities of local Diamond miners." The room full of bushy brows, sagging jowels, and wrinkled-lined eyes shifted with the discomfort and suspicion of the aging generals as they silently contemplated what schemes might be brewing.

" In summary, they were approaching the southern edge of the river basin when the....incident occured." Topographical displays appeared next, showing in vivid detail an aerial view of the center of Brazil. "We believe the plan was to meet up with other protesters and stage some sort of a rally. But Sorrentino and Jimenez never arrived. We believe that they encountered something in the rainforest; a contagious phenomenon which infected the two of them, and has the potential to spread further. To the best of our ability, we're going to attempt to retrace their steps, where they went and when. This should better enable us to pinpoint the location of the infectious agent....."

**********

Part 2: Paleolithic Pornography

It was important to remind herself of why she was here. That was ultimately the real reason why Lisa Sorrentino had trekked further, deeper into the jungle. Tomorrow, they were due at the river banks to meet a few other true-believers, where a boat should be waiting to carry the lot of them to the facilities set-up by the Diamond miners, where they'd add their voices in protest.

Lisa brushed a single strand of gray hair away from her eyes, a reminder that someday age would catch up to her, making it all the more important that she contribute something now, today, while she still could. But as she was concerned for the future of herself, and the Earth - she stubbed her toe against a tangible reminder of the past.

Her hard boots thudded against the whitish-grey rock with a jade-like texture, embedded in the rich soil, yet in the instant she glanced down, her dark eyes registered what had to be a carving...

Yes! the gray block had unfamilar runes that must represent written language! In this part of the jungle? There was no evidence of Inca colonization in a region this remote, none of the other indigenous tribes near here demonstrated written iconagraphy. Scrutinizing the whitish slab with a scientist's curious eye, she suddenly wished she had a bit of an archealogy background, and yet...

Grubs and beetles scampered away as Lisa turned the rock over after pushing it free from the dark soil, she had a firm conviction that these fluid, parabolic characters did not match anything Incan or South-American....and while the Paleobotany professor was no expert in this regard, a sudden insight told her that this language system might not match any known culture!

In addition to inscrutable, swirly words there were also clear etchings clearly meant to depict human figures. You couldn't get much detail into a slab of rock, but the carvings were deep enough that even after countless centuries in the humidity of the amazon, the figures were still visible. On the back side was a representation of a human torso, the elongated protrustions were clearly breasts. Under the female drawing was a label written in the unknown language. Closeby were a series of bound ovals that seemed to resemble a flower blossom. But that was all on this stone, a shame that there was not more to...

But wait! Behind that fern; was another similar stone! Could it have....Yes! Another artifact-stone filled with eerie script in the same, unreadable language! But the ancients who carved it also added many more engraved illustrations. Working frantically, Lisa dug, brushed, yanked and cajoled the larger, 5-foot long slab slowly from the soil. To her pleasant surprise, the breakage pattern on this rock seemed to match that of the first record-stone, a continuation! The professor squatted on her knees, heedless of the dirt and debris that would stain her khaki cargo-pants as she studied the drawings.

Another figure with breasts, woman...and another of the flower-blossom symbols, the woman seemed to be taking it, or touching it. More indecipherable writing. One line of the fluid text was larger, engraved deeper than the rest, was this intended as an emphatic statement? Some warning of some sort? Regardless, neither she - nor she suspected any modern linguist could read the words. But the pictures...

In the next drawing, the woman's breasts seemed larger, if it was the same woman. Another etching seemed to show the first female carrying a blossom to another woman, who seemed to have larger breasts in the next frame.

Next came a gathering of men, their stick-like penises emphasized on the etches. Lisa chuckled bemusedly as she studied what must have been sexual depictions that came next.

"They seem like a fun-loving culture..." she remarked, eyes glancing over the weird writings to get to the next etched scene. The female-drawings were coupling with the male figures, at first the positions where clearly Missionary; the males overlapping the depictions of females, the stick-penises noticeably longer than before.

But then the images progressed towards depictions of different, exotic positions. The males coupling with etched-in females in what would be termed doggie-style, the engravings clearly showing penises entering the female-figures from behind as five pairs squatted together.

Moving her glance towards the center of the large record-stone, she saw that the sexual positions had changed again; only this time the female-figures were clearly dominant, straddling the males. (whose stick-dicks where still evident in the etchings) The females where raising their arms, in triumph? While the men seemed to be wiggling arms and legs, in joy over this liason? Or fear?


Enter the Amazon Book 2



(The Theme of this story was determined by a fan who then secured XXXecil's services as a writer.)

Part 5: The Greatest Sin

"Let me get this straight, you believe that this airliner, this Flight 69 was the means by which Patient Zero escaped the Amazon?" remarked a joweled, bushy-browed general whose weathered skin and pock-marked face soured with uncertainty. His dull green uniform was bedecked with a glittering assortment of stripes and insignias reflecting a lengthy career not on the battlefield, but one of political concessions granted by concealing and procuring mysteries and wonders with implications for his Nation's security.

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.




Enter the Amazon Book 2



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."




Enter the Amazon Book 2



"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.

**********

Part 6: Earthslut

Never before had the drinks onboard Air Italia flight 69 been so popular. The military men clustered together in the middle column of seats lost their dour expressions from the contemplation of matters of international peril, and began smiling broadly, too broadly. Some of the men were tugging at their pants uncomfortably.

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!"



Part 7: Say the Word

It was a fortuitous entry. When Sisters Patience, Bellini, Lisa, and Maria boldly confronted the remaining passengers with the sinuous vision of their lithe, naked bodies, self-control among the passengers had just broken down. The first sight to greet Patience's eyes was that of a thirty-something United States Airforce colonel, a blond and solid-looking man, who was reaching across the aisle and firmly grabbing the still-clothed breast of Sister Denise, a Nun in her late sixties, but who now had the face and figure of a college freshman. The Colonel yanked the former woman of God into his seat, rending her black habit along the way, exposing magnificent breasts that met the motions of his probing hands like warm, tan-colored speed bumbs as he nuzzled and suckled her.

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!




Enter the Amazon Book 2



"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!"



Enter the Amazon Book 3



(The Theme of this story was determined by a fan who then secured XXXecil's services as a writer.)

Part 8: Botany Lesson

"I....I don't understand." Muttered the naked woman, golden-brown skin glistening vividly as she writhed in libidinous hunger upon the white linoleum.

"That is because you have not fully embraced your racial memory; the new instincts filling your mind." She seemed to be some sort of eerie, jungle-dwelling sexual cultist. The golden-embroidered patterns on her glittery robes were a panoply of spiders, sun-images, and odd-looking runes. The naked women still grappling with her transformation remembered something from her past: Many of those ancient patterns were....Incan? Yes...that was knowledge possessed by Celeste de Lourdes, The nude creature, compuslively fondling her swollen, rosy-capped breasts was no longer Celeste, she was no longer truly human. But she didn't understand yet, not fully.

"Your.....transition may be confusing," The raven-haired mystic explained as she ran her slender hand across the burnished sheen of Celeste's sleek belly, down below her Venus mound, to diddle a bit with her engorged, reddened clit. "I have been birthing spawn as fast as possible, and there it is easy. The mind when young is blank, open, and empty. The natural race-memory, the instinctive patterns of knowledge imprint without difficulty. But you....." The mystic brought her plump, strawberry lips close to the changing woman's ear as she whispered tantalizingly.

"You have decades of knowledge, experience...all must be bent, shaped, transformed. You are no longer, and never again will be Celeste de Lourdes, it will be interesting to see what you do eventually become."

"B-but..but why...why do I need...to touch.....so much?" The new creature asked, as she slipped her hands inside the open robe of the mysterious, mother priestess, fondling the full, silken globes of hard-nippled mammaries before moving further down, down to grip in both hands the bulging hemispheres of a tense, warm buttocks. The green eyes of the breeder-mother narrowed in response to her question, then her expression turned quizzical for a moment. If anything, she was soothed by the lurid fondling performed on her by the writhing she-creature.

"Tell me, child: How much do you know about......Botany? What do you know about the ways plants reproduce?"

"N-n-nuh...not much.....almost...nothing....the human....Celeste....she was trained in....Journalism...n-not biology." The creature confessed; though the face was basically the same, internally the feminine entity could no longer pretend to be the same person. The Priestess nodded.

"Consider this: During sex, with any creature, any entity that reproduces with two sexes needs a way to....stimulate growth after fertilization is complete." As she spoke, the dark-haired mistress bedecked in Incan symbols straddled the quivering pelvis of the new entity, their mutually engorged vaginal folds mingling...caressing....teasing themselves and each other. "The growth of the young mustn't occur too soon, or too late - but when conditions are right, life must begin, the embryo must begin its life, its maturation. And plants have some unusual means to kick-start their young into growth." While explaining, the Incan harlot pinched the nipples of the female that had once been Celeste. She grasped the rosy nipples rhythmically, methodically, as her sopping cunt began a rocking motion to grind the two sexes together.

"There are some long-lived conifers that actually require a forest fire to remove an outer layer from their seeds before those seeds can grow; there are many plants that depend upon animals eating their seeds before those same seeds can fully germinate. Many ways to awaken, provoke plant seeds to begin their lives....and the organism...that wonderful organism that has infused both of us with her DNA also has...particular requirements for her seeds." Celeste arched her back beneath her mistress, unleashing a passionate grunt as a rush of sensation burned in her womb. It was as though a million needle-points of liquid pleasure were exploding out of her cunt all at once.

"They...They will come for you...Priestess..." murmured the short, half-naked man tied and handcuffed to steel loops in the west wall. He still wore his many-pocketed Safari-style shirt, but his pants were long gone. Obscuring his manhood was a young woman who looked like nothing so much as a nude porn starlet 8-months pregnant with triplets. Beneath her nut-brown skin, the muscles in her throat were outlined as she greedily deep-throated the man's rigid penis.

"N-now...that the Trust has been broken, all will know of you....soon, all will know of the horror...you have unleashed...upon the World!" One of these horrors squealed with delight as she felt his hard cock twitching with readiness within the liquid silk of her moist mouth as she fellatioed him with a tongue-twisting expertise matched only by the most jaded of whores. Yet the expression on his broad face was one of anguished exertion, strain and tooth-grinding denial of the sensual assault taking place between his legs. But the dark-haired Priestess only chuckled.

"You will....not laugh when they come....with guns...and tanks...and bombs....they will use force...as much as needed....to stop plagues...epidemics..." The bound man shook his head as he held his eyes closed even while admonishing his captor. It seemed he was denying, resisting the natural reflex that must result from the tender ministrations of a naked woman with lips like the caress from a rose, and tits that wobbled like wide-aureoled, over-grown coconuts.

"Oh Pablo....dear Pablo...." crooned the Priestess mockingly. "That is why we are here; that is the first step in the plan!" Her teasing of Celeste's nipples increased in speed as the new entity shimmied and shook with orgiastic delight. "By controlling Marcos, with his political connections, I will have access to the corridors of power in this country! We shall penetrate the inner workings of this government - through the cocks of those with the power! Before they ever learn the truth; it will be far too late!" She punctuated her statement with musical laughter.

"They will not come with guns; silly man....YOU will! You will cum inside the mouth of my spawn! You will jet your seed into her yet again!" Her lips twisted with a sardonic sneer as she taunted her male prisoner.

"NEVER! I...have given you enough of my seed! I have failed myself enough today....not one more drop!" Insisted Pablo, muscles straining with corded futility against the constraining handcuffs that bound him to the wall. "I....shall not....must not orgasm....must not....climax.....your...abominations shall no longer use me!" Beaded sweat dribbled down his furrowed brow with the intensity of his attempted resistance. The nude, pregnant female servicing his raging member rose up a bit higher, cooing as seductively as she could with the thickness of his engorged rod entering her mouth, and thrusting down her throat. Was her womb growing, throbbing with life even as Celeste watched?

As if responding to Pablo's challenge, the nude slut rose up from her hands-and-knees posture to more of a sitting position, rising up as she gently raked her fingernails over Pablo's ass. A long tongue - too long it seemed looped and wrapped around the pulsing shaft of manmeat between her lips. She opened her lips wider, blowing cool air around inside her mouth and over his wet cock, adding extra variety to the cornucopia of sensations that whittled away at the nature guide's rigid resolve.

But he would no longer surrender to them! He would not look upon that pixie-perfect, elegant face of the unwholesome bitch that should not be, the bitch slathering his cock in an ardent quest for his semen. Celeste turned to behold the lurid contest, as her mind continued to shift. Curious, the entity thought, as her pussy quivered against the sex of the Priestess straddling her. The human, Celeste de Lourdes would have been appalled at this impossibly perverse display. But the new Celeste felt only a twinge of excitement and a jealous craving. It was as if The Priestess read her thoughts.

"Oh no....not for you, young one. You have a more pressing need!" Her mistress thrust several fingers into Celeste's quavering cunt. "Look," she brought her hand back into the new girl's vision, the probing hand had been covered with shimmering, tiny silvery sparkles. Like cosmetic glitter, but brighter. "You are now part of a fantastic life-cycle, and it is time to play your role!" With that, the Priestess smeared the silvery glitter-spores upon the throbbing, baseball-sized tits of the new Celeste, and rose. Grasping the girl by her shoulders, she helped her stand up again. 

Outside the white living room, beyond a glass sliding door was a manicured lawn where the grass had been cleared to make way for a squared slick of brown, wet mud. There were three more of the abominable spawn standing here; their youthful faces darkened with savage cravings and dark desires. The first two had the same, raven-black hair, a taller girl in the middle had an auburn brown cascade over her green-within-green eyes that shone with illicit cravings. Their skin too, had begun to sparkle with that silvery glitter from the breeding spores of the plant whose life-cycle they were intended to complete. 

Celeste snarled, why should these kids have bigger breasts than she!? They didn't have the right to bear plump mounds of girlflesh larger than a man's clenched fist! And so high! The taller girl, in the center had boobs thrusting up proudly, bulging below her coffee-cup aureoles. The two in the center had splayed breasts, their bodies screamed with the suggestion of a muscle-clenched mating, voluptuous forms to incite men's desire and bear their young smoothly, and often.

"Follow your urges; obey your instinct!" hissed the Priestess. But it was not a matter of resisting or succumbing to the sharp desires that seethed in Celeste's blood; her brain was still changing. Neurons were rewritten, transfigured and altered until the she-creature had no thought except to engage these new spawn. 

Rushing through the open sliding-glass, New Celeste tackled the sisters, and the four of them collapsed naked into the mud. Writhing, squirming, entwining nude legs and bare breasts. It was each slut for herself as the grappling began; each female driven by a maniacal urge to use the bodies of each other as hardpoints to masturbate themselves. Pussies widened amidst a perverse thrashing of mud, buttocks, and wobbling juggs that jiggled with tremulously swirling trajectories with each grasp and thrust.

"NOOOO!" Pablo howled. Why did he look!? WHY?! If Pablo had not seen the thrashing, naked, mud-wrestling sex-pots as they thrust their genitals against each other, he might have held out longer! But there was no denying the truth; The image of a sleek, wet ass and wobbling breasts were burned into his brain, and the damage was done.

With each spurt, there was a tiny sob, as jet after creamy jet of hot semen rocketed from his well-lubricated rod through the puckered lips, past the tittilating tongue, and down the throat of the pregnant breeding slut assaulting his member. He could feel the truth; the terrible ecstasy that came from coupling with these....these unwomen grew greater each time. Soon, the pleasure would become so intense, that he would no longer be able to even dream of resistance. Soon, Pablo knew, he would no longer be sane.

**********

Part 9: Wet Dreams

It was like drowning, immersion in a deep, warm sea. Yet the General was not struggling for breath. He did not want to escape from the soft, soothing grasp from any urgency to survive, but rather from a desire to emerge into a world of new, and exciting possibilities.

But swimming would not work; direct propulsion from kicking limbs would not send the General to the surface any faster. Rather, it was pleasure that would send him up....upwards. It went without saying that he felt more alive than ever before, acutely aware of his body....had he been losing weight? Must be; for his beer-gut had been replaced by smooth, toned flesh. A hand shot to the General's crotch. Was it his own hand, or that of another all was blurred, and uncertain.

What was undeniable were the shooting streams of raw pleasure coursing outwards from his crotch. As though...as though a nugget of electricity was embedded deep below, between the legs, forcing him into heights of ecstasy never dreamed possible. Higher....Higher....he felt himself moving upwards towards the light, with every caress, every teasing touch of physical enticement. The General knew he must rise higher...to fulfill the mission. But...what was the mission....?

It was.....a training exercise as part of a cooperative venture between the governments of the United States and Brazil....not exactly routine, but it had been an uneventful assignment....and then...then...something had happened; there were strange mechanical complication on the return flight.....taken hours before the plane had been cleared for takeoff...and then...then something incredible had happened. It was difficult to remember. The General recalled a burning surge of desire, passion and fury that was beyond reason or logic. 

The last thing the General could remember was a fiery urge to wallow naked outdoors while procreating, mating with an endless parade of women who were too gorgeous to be real. As he rose upwards on a rising tide of carnal bliss he almost gasped with the remembered drive towards copulation, his career did not matter, National Security did not matter. The weighty international issues and global threats he had grappled with for decades seemed.....trite. All that mattered was sexual release and the fertilization of new life. It had happened, he knew. The General felt alive, fertile, in a way that he had never experienced and did not make sense to the rational mind.

But the concern that normally would have caused the General to stop and examine the situation was gone; replaced now not by a mandate to defend, serve, and protect, but by a gratification over successful fertilization, coupled with a burning mandate to breed with others, and then others.

The chest was the first spot on the General's body where the pleasure exploded into an awesome jolt that commanded his attention. It was more than just the pleasure of a gentle, erotic touch; it was as though something was...emerging...bursting forth.... and then, the pressure, the bliss, the tingling fire throbbed between the General's legs, and he felt freer, lighter, liberated and energized as he rose up through a warm, watery limbo of altered consciousness.

He did not yet understand the first set of images, those images where he had somehow merged with those animals, from past and present, becoming different creatures, different people. Reptiles, birds, extinct, ancient life-forms from the sea...he'd been them all...he'd also lived life through the eyes of a jaded, New York prostitute on her back with an aroused client raging inside her wet slit. That image, especially seemed crucial and noteworthy for reasons that would be clear in moments.

Just a little higher, a little further, and he would understand the images, understand the feelings, the impressions, the whispers from a vast, over-arching web of instinct, intent, and primal urges. These last two ideas were most important; crucial to the General's future. A whore, racking her nails down the back of a moaning client, the man's back arching as he spurted into her... or rather into a condom; such a waste the General thought. What an odd thought? Why should he...she....think such a strange thing?

Why?

Why?.....

With a lurid groan, the freckled red-headed woman arose to a sitting posture, fully awake, her breasts wobbling like coconuts waving in a tropical breeze. She felt the coarse sting of clothing - she hated it! She began to shrug out of the dull, green jacket she wore. It had markings, medals, strips and labeling. One label read "Gen. McWorter" Her green eyes narrowed. Ah, now she remembered; the human male that she had grown from had a significant rank in his society. Yes....the memories....his expertise were still there - now under the control of a slick-skinned woman who seemed scarcely older than 20, with a ripeness of figure and gracile elegance of face that could earn her a millionaire income in any country on Earth.

She caressed a taut nipple, moaning as she ran her legs over the fabric of the floor near the seats that were now filled with copulating pairs. She could easily become the whore she'd dreamed of, yet she must not be bound by the rules that restricted other such women, to waste sperm in a condom!? Ridiculous! She would open herself to any man, all men! What a thrill, a delicious thrill to contemplate the life of an unabashed, unrepentant slut. More than that, the curvaceous red-head would be too restricted by the life of a whore; that would mean turning away some men if they lacked cash!

Her musings were interrupted by a moan, and a tackle from behind. A dark-haired woman with wide, sky-blue eyes and more conical breasts greedily thrust herself against the body of the red-head. The newcomer too, had just shrugged off a military jacket, but there was no way to recognize the man she had once been from the smooth, clear features of the wanton hussy, whose tongue was expertly weaving a trail down to the red-head's dripping cunt. There was a profound rightness to the sex act. Both women obeyed the urgent need to bury face and tongue in the pussy of the other.

Yes, all the women felt the over-instinct, the web of life that now filled their minds. But there was more; both soon discovered that by coupling, arousing one another, a deeper communion was possible. The brunette with the sky-blue eyes began forcing her tongue into the open, welcoming slit of the red-head, who herself began to lick the copious, girl-cum from the pussy above her face as the two continued their inverse coupling. This closeness of contact allowed their connections to Gaia to extend....into each other. The feelings and thoughts of each woman extended to the other as they gratified themselves.

What a joy then, to discover a wantonness to match her own, in the mind of the other, transformed neo-woman. For now, Lesbian sex was the will of Gaia, but very soon would come the time to spread their gift to other men. The two discovered that they shared the same attitudes, the same perceptions. These women did not evaluate men individually, did not consider whether a man was 'worth it' or not; all mankind was the same. All mankind looked to them like a great pool of nectar, a fruit tree defenseless and ripe. It was a prize to be won, a great cornucopia to be consumed for their own pleasure, and the benefit of the Earth. 

**********

Part 10: An Onerous Dilemma

He must have missed something. Alfonso Lusenchi, co-pilot of Air-Italia flight-69 must have ignored some crucial detail. What the short Italian with his curled hair and ebony moustache did know was that there had been strange cries of...passion from the cabin of the plane, a nearby intercom had been peppering the cockpit with inarticulate cries of what must have been great pain, a few muffled cries of ... "attack", and something that sounded like 'hijack', but now all the young pilot could hear were eerie moans over a panoply of...of...what was that? slurping? wet, and slithering sounds could reach the intercom, amidst the incoherent grunts.

"The emergency transponder signals are - " but Alfonso was interrupted.

"BELAY THAT!" hissed his captain and superior, the coldly aloof, by-the-book professional woman. Her firm features and finely lined cheeks seemed contorted in..in...the sensation that played across her middle-aged features was too euphoric to be pain, yet too urgent in its intensity to reflect gratification. "There's...n-no problem..." The captain grunted. Her hazel eyes fluttering. Her left hand tightly gripped an aluminum container of generic orange juice, elbow quivering from the arthritic stiffness that had plagued her since her thirties.




Enter the Amazon Book 3



"How can you say that Daniella;" Lusenchi demanded, using her first name to grab her attention. "The...the screams, the cries, I could have sworn I heard the word 'Hijack'! And the stewardesses! They do not respond when called!"

"M-m...Marshall...leave it to...the Air Marshall...if there's a problem." Was she listening to him? Was she listening to herself? "And you...will refer to me as Captain Shremf in flight!" Well, that was like her. The tight-ass Ice-queen that guided the massive commercial jet was...or had been, a characiture of didactic rigidity and adherence to regulation. Never letting down her guard, always remaining professional, did she even know his first name? Titles and designations were critical to the way she ran the show. But now?

"Even if the Marshall can save us, there are distress procedures that we must transmit! Maybe the Hijackers will win, perhaps not, regardless we must alert the nearest authorities to our situation!? I cannot believe I must tell you this!" Why were Daniella Shremf's eyes rolling back into her head? Why the grimace of secret desires plastering her face? Was it...was it her beverage? She had seemed...inordinately happy since partaking of what must surely have been a thoroughly ordinary can of orange juice. And, Lusenchi remembered something odd; the can was aluminum, and should have been pressurized, yet there had been no sound of gas release when opened. Where the food and drinks onboard flight contaminated? Tampered with? Yes...that could answer the questions that had plagued him...that just might make sense.

"Danie - Captain Shremf, I believe you have been intoxicated, you must relax and try to think clearly." His words were slow, measured and concise. But the delirious Austrian did not meet his dark eyes, she seemed scarcely aware of him, or the instrument panel. Her partially-graying hair began to escape the tight bun she normally kept it in, as she tossed her head to and fro in the grips of some persistent delusion; some eerie imposition upon her awareness of the world around her.

**********

It was an impossible, onerous dilemma. The sort of decision that no one should have to wrestle with. Daniella Shremf was flying her airliner, as usual. But this was not the Atlantic Ocean; not any place on Earth she knew. She flew alone in a cockpit over clear, warm waters as calm as the horse latitudes, with a jutting island-cliff before her. It was not the first time she had been here; her plane had made sweeps of the island several times. 

And above the rocks, crags, and jutting daggers of ominous stone, there lay within a shady valley a bucolic wonderland that would be demeaned by the word 'Paradise'. The trees and plants in the valley below her were greener than green, with colors so vibrant they seemed to deepen in richness the longer one gazed upon their leafy canopies. And their were people in the valley; women to be specific. Perfect, naked women with bodies to shame a pornstar frolicked carefree with each other, and amongst the soothing greenery.

"N-no..." The Austrian pilot hissed to herself. "This...this can't be real...it must be... a hallucination...You're hallucinating Daniella! Stop it! Stop!" This island...those women...it must be a dream, wasn't it? She needed to escape back to reality, she kept flying...away, far away from the craggy island of nude women at play. Yet before the land was entirely out of sight, another object appeared on the horizon...

"The same...the same island.." Sure enough, in whatever direction she flew, she would yet return to this same isle, the same jutting pillars of jagged formations to split open any manmade vehicle. Yet again, that same valley; the lush utopia of verdant bliss where females cavorted. Yet, instinctively Daniella knew that the creatures below were not females like her; though she should not have been able to see them with any clarity from her height, at this speed; she had visions of flawless physiques unmarred by the common ravages that afflict humans. There seemed no disease, no pain, no...aging. She brushed a hand unconsciously through the graying hair above her ears and below the dirty blond tresses bound into a tight knot as secure as her own discipline. But her right arm jolted with the flash of pain and stiffness of her arthritis; and she knew, sensed, believed that these naked jungle women could cure her. 

"No...It's not..not real...impossible..." But her mind began to examine, analyze what she might have to do to join them. Her heart yearned to become one with then. But...the rocks, the crags.... she scanned the island, but this plane; her plane was so large and ponderous; how could a landing be possible? There was no safe spot on this tropical fantasy to plausibly land a plane of the size she flew.

So she flew onwards...onwards....and was disturbed by the sqwauking cries from...somewhere distant....a harsh voice speaking of protocols....procedures...emergency hijacking transponder signals... a familiar voice from afar...could be Air-traffic control...but she didn't need them. How much of this vision was reality filtering through, and how much was imagined?

Though her plane had been flying at maximum speed away from the island, Daniella saw it again on the horizon in less than a minute. She could not help but look, could not help but study the remarkable place. There was the annoying male voice again, grunting something about 'emergency', and 'hijacking', but that must be some other plane. Most flights today had Air Marshalls better equipped to think about such matters than a pilot, so why bother her about someone else's problem? Forget them, forget the foolish male voice, as he whined about someone being intoxicated. The island was what mattered.

Flying lower and slower than a jetliner of this size should have been capable of, Daniella drank in what she could see of the carefree inhabitants through the windows. It was a life of absolute gratification; governed by a purity of instinct as seductive as it was irresistable. Stress or worry did not touch the lives of these creatures. They felt, they lusted, they acted. Many had begun coupling with legs outstretched with each other, some had begun to impale their femalias upon odd, phallic-shaped plantlife. Leaves and blossoms with a shape fitted and moulded to inflict perfect pleasure upon a woman's sexual core. That was how these creatures viewed males, she understood. Faceless donors of pleasure and seed. There were no relationships, no commitments; only the sensual satisfaction from skin upon nude skin in blatant rut, driven by the ever present imperative for fertlization. It was a wondrously erotic spectacle of females struggling to breed new life again forevermore, unburdened by the doubts, uncertainties, and fears that made human women so selective. And she would have this perverse peace forevermore. She could remain for the rest of her days in an idyllic, sexual playground, existing in a haze of pleasurable urges and instincts. These women did not doubt, or worry, there was no anxiety or trepidation, only the fulfillment of groin-throbbing urges.

The Choice then, was terrible because the Austrian would have to sacrifice her mission, her ship...the one thing any responsible pilot would swear never to even consider. A life of paradise, or acknowledgment of duty? There was a narrow path, she could see. Between the crags, rocks, and jutting blades of igneous deposits, she could see a slim corridor that could just barely accomodate her plane. Of course, the wings and engines would likely sustain crippling damage, and it would be impossible to ever take-off again, but she could see it, she could see a means to deliver herself and her vehicle into the feminine paradise. But...the passengers! Her crew and her duty and her mission! They would be lost! Honor her duty, or give herself a life of joy at the cost of her charges?

But first, she shook her head, trying to dispel the annoying voices. There was that male voice again, she knew him...perhaps...but could not think of his name. She head his voice from afar, and he seemed to be saying....intoxication....impairment...something about her..the male voice seemed to be accusing her of hallucinating. Yes, that was likely. But Daniella Shrempf found herself lost; what was real? What part of her vision was an illusion borne of hallucinogenic intoxication? All that she was seeing could not be real, but what! What was the truth!?

In a flash, she realized a different truth, a perfect truth. There was no sacrifice, no choice. When she delivered her plane to the island of frolicking lesbians and phallic plants, she knew instinctively that everyone onboard, all passengers, all crewmembers would join them, and be changed, perfected. It was not a problem, no dilemma. She decided that her fears, her doubts, and the self-imposed dictates of duty and discipline where the illusions, the hallucinations. So there was only one course to plot: towards her new friends. She would deliver herself and the entire complement of Air Italia Flight 69 into the delicate hands and soft bosoms of the awesome females so close to her. She laughed at the male voice warning of danger, admonishing her for not thinking clearly, saying her mind was clouded by drugs. No..... as she flicked a knob, and disabled a security protocol on the control panel, she had never felt more certain. 

**********

"CAPTAIN!" Shrieked Co-pilot Alfonso. "You've disabled cockpit security!" The thick, vault-like doors that protected most cockpits in light of the depradations of terrorism should have protected both of them from whatever madness was occurring in the cabin - until the typically straight-laced and by-the-book Captain opened the door, in flagrant violation of clear procedure. But...she wasn't herself...it was clear that Shremf was drugged; something was slipped into her orange juice, a strangely powerful hallucinogen he surmised. That might explain the starry look in her far-staring eyes; the middle-aged Austrian did not seem to be seeing this cockpit they both knew; not only was her mind far away, it seemed apparent her ability to perceive the world was confused. Alfonso Lusenchi had not had anything to drink, and so...so...wait! Something was wrong; the fine wrinkles and creases in her flesh - on her cheeks and under her eyes, where....melting? 

The normal wrinkles one might expect in a woman her age, they seemed to be vanishing right before him! He stared dumbfounded at her eyes, fine lines smoothing away in an instant! No intoxicant he'd ever heard of was capable of that! Unless he was the one hallucinating?! But then Daniella jumped in her seat, tugging at her uniform. 

"This...this is more serious, this poison - I must assume whoever attacks this flight - "

" 'Attack' is such an ugly word," Maria declared, as she slipped through the now unlocked cockpit door. "We do not destroy, we awaken, we heal..." But this was not the Maria that Alfonso had known for three years, the face was much the same, yet it seemed strange she would find time for a salon-quality makeover since the last time he'd seen her. But more was different besides the delicate color accents her face now had, she was nude from the waist down. And even above the waist, she wore only her deep blue, flight attendant jacket with no blouse, shirt or undergarments of any sort.

The corrupted stewardess was blatantly seducing him; her proud breasts jutted forcefully forward; conical mounds of feminine tittilation that she presented in a way not so much to invite the lust of others, but the way her brown, thimble-like nipples and widening aureoles seemed to aim at him.... there was a sense that her sexuality was confronting, accosting the male co-pilot. Was this allure a deliberate attempt; or was Maria being driven forward by her own outrageous libido now unleashed in a way Alfonso had never imagined possible? 

"Maria!! Have you gone mad!!? Are the hijackers compelling you in some way? Put some clothes on!" Insisted the flustered co-pilot, running a hand through his curled hair.

"WHY!?" Maria demanded angrily; a strand of her coppery-brown hair draping over her amber-colored face. "You have lusted after me for years, making your subtle remarks, your sly passes..." Her dark eyes smouldered with a twisting mixture of disdain and craving. "Men yearn for our bodies, yet constrain us in unnatural garments!" This seemed an atrocity from her acerbic tone. "No more, Alfonso! I will suffer this hypocrisy no longer!" She discarded the stewardess jacket, allowing nothing to obstruct the pilot's view of her thrusting, threatening boobs. Grunting wildly, Maria began shaking her shoulders, and her aggressive teats began to jiggle with obscene promise; her male target could not decide whether her sumptuous rack seemed more like a pair of soft, angry footballs, or engorged water balloons eager for a target, and that target was him.

Still, he knew that whatever was going on, the authorities ought to be notified, he needed to change the transponder frequencies so that...so that....the breasts....so firm....ripe...bouncing in front of me...breasts...no! He couldn't stare at the soft valleys and plump curves that jiggled with a pliant promise of tactile pleasure. No...he wouldn't forget his duties just because Maria was thrusting boobs in his face he....he saw...next to him, another dark-haired woman, completely naked was straddling Captain Shremf, and forcing a nipple in her mouth. He had to...had to.....ooohh....breast...no..something was wrong...why is that strange woman suckling Daniella? He should have said something, done something but....Maria...breasts.....No, he couldn't be mesmerized, paralyzed just from Maria shimmying, dancing, gyrating before him? Could he?

**********

"Something's wrong;" Lisa announced, as she straddled the female pilot of the 767, after giving her ample chance to suckle from her even more ample teats. The human was thrashing, moaning in a way that was only slightly more severe than that of the other transformations; but the Mother of the Ladies of Nature could sense instinctively that not all was as it should be. Glancing near the control panel for the elaborate flight gauges and monitors, she saw a small bottle of arthritis medicine.

"I see now; this human has an overactive immune system, it is resisting the infection from my ovum spores much more vigorously than is typical." Still, Lisa stroked the Austrian's hair, encouraging her to continue suckling from a firm, jutting nipple.

"But....could the Captain resist the infection?" Asked Maria, in between thrusts and shimmies of her own plump hemispheres.

"No. I don't believe any human could repel the infection, but this one...this pilot, she will become a mutant. To change her, the spores will combine and rearrange her genes in ways never seen before..." Lisa slipped a hand inside Daniella's uniform to feel firsthand the changes in her breasts.

"Not like....like me?" Queried the coppery-haired, Italian flight attendant, whose augmented boobs where rapidly hypnotizing copilot Lusenchi.

"No, in all populations, there will be some individuals that respond differently to infection, a few capable of surviving, coexisting, defeating any disease. The human body won't defeat the ovum spores of Gaia, but some will be able to -" Daniella began bucking then, hoarse grunts accompanying swift ruffles and surges under her sky-blue uniform shirt. The human arched her back, thrusting shoulders forward against the yielding softness of Lisa's ripe curves, as the buttons in her shirt began to separate further, and further apart. An inch...two...finally three inch gaps began to appear as her garments strained under a rapidly blossoming payload of mammalian bounty that widened in fertile leaps and starts within the torn wreakage of her bra.

"N-No-nuh..." Daniella struggled and grunted, disengaging from Lisa's sweet nipple as she grimaced as though in agony. "Not...N..N-nnn..need...need to...CUM! Must...Cum!!!" Lisa shook her head in sadness.

"Poor dear, by this stage she should be into her sixth orgasm; but the Turning is more difficult in her, the process has changed for her. The sexual tension must be sheer agony!" Musing in between sympathetic flicks to Daniella's throbbing clit with her left hand down the human's pants, Lisa's eyes narrowed. "We may need help flying the plane..."

**********

Part 11: Riding Out the Storm

The mood back in the cabin of flight 69 had turned less towards the mischievious frivolity of loosed sexual inhibitions, and more towards a dedicated mission of copulation and impregnation. Each of the transformed females possessed innate hypnotic abilities that paralyzed the fit and virile military men before any of them could think clearly enough to mount a resistance; and with the spores in their drinks, their libidoes had been heightened to the point that resistance was the furthest thing from most of their minds.

Rhythmically, the youthened and ripened nuns ground their groins against the hardened rods of the officers. Most still wore their habits, a symbol that they were no less devoted now, only that their devotion had changed. Sleek, glistening skin dripped with sweat as this sisterhood of lust millked the seed from all the men who were still men. That it seemed, lent a certain urgency to their couplings.

Clenching ass-cheeks and hot pussies churned upon erect, engorged penises with disciplined, rhythmic efficiency, each nun desperate to feel as much cock as possible before they ran out of men. If the corruped clerics hurried, each would still receive many more loads of semen before the plane had nothing but females. The task was made slightly easier by that fact that the transformed former men seemed obsessed with lesbian sex, at least for now. 

Major Jason Baines was a curious, cunning officer with an eye for detail and analytical ability that had impressed his superiors to put him on a promotion track even with only limited combat experience. Ordinarily, Jason would have been the first to remark upon the incongruous nature of the transformations; some of the fallen soldiers turned into female versions of themselves, but about half had hair or eye colors completely different from what they'd been as men. Yet Major Baines was unable to register this fact, consumed as he was in the throes of his own transformation.

The dying embers of his rational mind told him that he should have resisted this horrible, erotic attack that had gotten him in this mess. But, for all his discipline, he was still a man..for now... and..and something in his drink...there was some weird additive, impossibly sweet, and whatever it was, it had gone straight for his groin, searing him with a sexual yearning more powerful than his will to live, his seven-inch cock had bulged with such steely hardness, that it seemed strong and taut enough to use as ammunition. And in the end, the nun had been the aggressor. He could have sworn the woman had been a dumpy old forty-something abbess frought with worries and wrinkles, yet the dimpled creature with a mole between her breasts, revealed as she tore open her own habit in front of him seemed scarcely old enough to buy alcohol. To Jason's credit, he did put up momentary resistance as the youthened slut tore open his pants and began to deep-throat him. But his rough, gnarled hands upon her raven-black hair soon changed from a restraining, pushing motion to the encouraging strokes that signalled to the woman her fellatio had suceeded. 

What could he have done when the dark-haired goddess leapt into his lap, impaling her womb upon his slickened shaft with an aggression matched by none but the most skillful whores? What recourse was there? Indeed, the only thing Jason could have done was to cum, to cum with more force, more accompanying grunts of feral gratification than he ever imagined possible. His body and penis beyond his control he spurted, jetting virile strands of fertilization into the feminine sheath devouring his member in a dripping wet cavern of velvet pleasure. But then she had cum; as if the act of ejaculation, the feel of his seed inside her triggered a different sort of climax. Eyelids fluttering, the depraved nun dug her fingernails deep as she pressed her cunt ever tighter against his raging meat. It was almost...almost as if HE was the one being seeded.




Enter the Amazon Book 3



And so here he was, writhing upon the carpeted floor of the cabin, dodging the thrashing legs and prostrate bodies as he felt his manhood, indeed his humanity slipping away. Before he knew it, all body hair had gone, and Jason could feel the inflating tension in his chest, nipples already sprouting to a feminine, thimble-size as he felt the quivering tremors heralding the expansion of his chest. The pleasure was so overwhelming, so consuming that it caused his body to tense and grimace as though it were pain, yet he never wanted that delicious sensation to end. Wallowing in the throes of the Change, Jason made the mistake of running a finger over his crotch, the intensity of the stimulation was like an electric jolt, Jason quivered and lay barely moving for several moments, unable and unwilling to slow or resist the transformation. Had the pleasure not been so severe, he might have marveled at the way his own blond crew-cut had darkened towards just a shade lighter than black, but he was not aware of this as the sensations grabbed hold and strangled his reason, morality, and logic.

What he did notice was that some of the men, the older generals had passed out during their Change. Was it better or worse to be conscious during the Turning? No...he...he had to fight this! They were...somehow they were turning him into a woman! His hands slapped to his smooth chest, where C-cups were emerging in plump ripples even as he clutched them. But the feel of hands grasping these tits, the teasing feeling of growing nipples pressing Jason' hands....it sent another paralyzing shudder through him, and all he wanted to do was lie back and ride out the storm. No...no...couldn't...couldn't...give in...no...no...

Eyelids fluttering, mind growing dull, Jason clutched his medals, clutched at the nametag on his jacket...Baines it read...Jason Baines....he was Jason Baines...Baines...but...but...it all seemed so silly. The popping sound that came from the abrupt opening of her new cunt was almost drowned out by a feminine shriek of delight. How ridiculous; her name was Jocelyn! All this military junk seemed so meaningless! She giggled with innocent glee as she ran her hand through her groin, contented that her pussy had come in at last.

But the needs within Jocelyn's freshly-minted cunt had not abated; there were still cravings, overwhelming urges...she ran her hand over the tiny mole between her grapefruit-sized boobs as she grappled with a strange bombardment of images as her racial memory asserted itself. In a rush, she absorbed the nature and mandate of Gaia, rapidly adapting to her circumstance and new role within Earth's ecology. But there was more, more she needed besides sex with men, something that went beyond the lesbian orgy that was surrounding her, a new need was - *OOF* The girl that leapt atop Jocelyn must feel the need too, for a newcomer had just embraced the feminized Major with a determination in her brown eyes; a singular receptiveness in the way she opened wide her legs and purposefully pushed her sex against Jocelyn's. Yes, this would be Captain Jamal Gainsmore, once a short but densely muscled black man with a trace of Irish on his grandmother's side; now become a wanton, female slut with wavy hair just a touch on the red side, even as the expression on her face showed just a touch of human sanity amidst the frothing cauldron of Gaia-lust.

Jocelyn was dominated and stimulated all at once; pinned down by her new lover as their sexes seemed to lock in place. She did not know precisely what would occur, yet she was driven now by a ferocious aggression to submit to the advances of this fellow soldier. These two drives creating a delicious contradiction that made her erect nipples tingle all the more.

No, not the Lesbian sex she was growing used to, their coupling was something more intense, deeper. The labias seemed to seal, adhering to each other in a way that should not occur during purely human sex. A hot tension built in each crotch, as unique hormones surged into the brains of both women, eliciting a mind-fogged haze of erotic grunts and hungry snarls. As the woman that had been Jamal squeezed the bottom swells of Jocelyn's tits, the sharpness of the sensation made her gasp, and the explorations of her own fingers as they teashed the terrain of her partner's jutting ass provoked a similar exhalation of glee that was more intense, more sublime than it should have been. It was apparent in mere moments; with pussies locked together in this manner, every touch, each pleasurable caress was magnified, amplified. It would be possible to orgasm from nothing more than a gentle touch of her own nose, so acute was the delight. Yet it was nipples and crotch that received the attention.

And soon, a competition became apparent; each female felt a deep need to drive themselves to climax. Who would succeed first? Which pair of roving hands would push the sweat-slicked flesh of her paramour over that sweet precipice first? Which pair of hardening nipples would so shock their owners that the only response would be a hip-thrusting female orgasm? In this, the new slut that had been Jamal seemed to dominate as well, and with a yelp, her pussy began to spasm against the splayed sex of Jocelyn, ripples of pleasure and grinding humps heralded an explosion of wet bliss and animalistic gratification. Jamal had come first, and at some instinctive level, Jocelyn knew that her lover had won. But won what?

The sharp tingle in her buttocks inspired her to disengage from the coupling, as she reveled in the widening, plumping sensation. She should have been more surprised as her skin darkened a shade into a bronze-brown, and as her hair slipped into an ink-black hue. Yet the knew changes seemed so perfectly, completely natural that there was no concern. That seemed to be the way with Gaia's changes. Everything that happened was the will of the great life-web that encircled the Earth, the very embodiment of the natural order; no matter what it did to the living beings that writhed beneath its power, such changes would feel wholesome, inevitable, and perfectly desirable.

Jocelyn had changed dramatically, the other woman had imprinted herself as if she had been Major Baines' own mother; like a portion of her own genes were now being expressed, diluting Jocelyn into a mixture of herself and this other female. With hands and eyes alike, she examined her renewed body. She was much like the voluptuous vixens that one might see on the arm of a Gansta rapper, or in one of his videos. Her ass was so firm and ripe that she could have rested a half-dollar-coin atop each hemisphere while standing up.

She gasped in shock and puzzlement at the speed with which her attitudes and preferences transformed. Any trace of the normal, male sexuality of Jason Baines had been erased; leaving behind only a raging cauldron of nymphomania with D-cup breasts and a Ghetto booty. The very thought of it...another shudder passed through her as raw estrus battered its way into her mind.

Jocelyn screamed from the biting shock of her burning libido. She was suddenly possessed of a frantic need for male penetration more severe than any drive or desire she had ever imagined. Normal humans with urges this powerful would devote their lives to their passion, suffering any hardship or loss, including their own death, to see their dream realized. And Jocelyn's dream was to be bathed in the semen of ten-thousand studs, to be speared upon penises like a sweaty, naked pincushion.

Before, in the first few moments of her transformation, she would have happily submitted to any man that had been nearby, but in that singular moment, her lusts had taken on a new urgency. She had truly become the new breed of nymphomaniac that Patience the Abbess had described earlier; not the passive female that merely permitted men to penetrate and ejaculate into her; that would not be enough to fulfill the purpose of Gaia. She had become a true Aggressor-slut, a sexual huntress that would fixate upon men and sex through any means available. It no longer mattered whether she must club a man over the head and ravish him through force, or whether it would be best to lure him into her clutches through gyrations of her ample assets. She would go to any lengths to compel men to copulate with her. Force or fraud, she would use both means. 

**********

Dylsia saw, and while her rational mind did not understand, her new instincts born of Gaia soon gave her an understanding of the unique orgy in the carnal cabin of the aircraft. The transformed officers first had become voluptuous women seemingly caught between the pinnacle of a woman's beauty and fertility. Yet after the new form of female intercourse compelled by instinct, some of the women began to change; their color and facial features shifting. But not all; during the frantic, lesbian mating rituals, the first woman to climax seemed to imprint her genes upon her partner, and the women who had yet to orgasm changed; adopting the appearance of the victor as if she had become the daughter of the triumphant slut.

But Gaia understood; and now Dylsia did too. She and Lisa, women who still had some trace of fertility would change, but still be recognizable as themselves; thus they could continue their old lives, and then subvert those around them. But those who had been transformed, men who had been infected by the ovum-spores and forcibly converted into sex-crazed women could not go back to their old lives.

There was a green-eyed red-head howling as she impaled her womanhood upon the hard rod of a dark-haired, fortyish officer who appeared to be the principal aide to the four-star airforce general that the girl had been mere minutes ago. No one could possibly believe that this girl no older than a college freshman and the general where the same; nor would anyone believe that a young slut with breasts nearly the size of her own head could have attained any significant military rank; this officer's career was over.

Yet that anonymity itself could be a powerful weapon. Dylsia had seen these women changing their form and faces; and that would make it all but impossible to identify them. The most determined search from the most experienced law-enforcement agencies would be unable to track them. They could blend in, spread Gaia's gift to thousands of men, who would then spread their lusts to thousands more, before anyone understood the threat. The greatest difficulty for these women would be containing their explosive passion for male sperm long enough to wear clothing and move to the next mate; but that was a problem for Dylsia as well. It would take considerable force of will to suppress the maniacal breeding lust, to resist the urge to rape any man in sight. Yes...the lust...the breeding lust was...wait...no...there was something wrong...

Dylsia's hand shot to her naked belly, where she felt an odd, gentle fluttering beneath her navel. The strange pulses where accompanied by jolts of raw, animal pleasure; just intense enough to be distracting. What the - what did it mean? This did not seem to be happening to anyone else on the flight? Why Dylsia?! Then, the busty latina remembered her past life; just before she'd left for the Amazon.....she'd........yes! That must be it!! Her hands probed her belly, as her mind probed the web of instincts that encircled the Earth.

Dylsia was pregnant.

**********

Part 12: Voyage of the Ice Queen

"HE'S MINE!" snarled the creature that had been Daniella Shremf, enraged at the way Maria was tantalizing her hypnotized prey, the copilot Alfonso, with her naked cunt hovering mere millimeters above his raging cock. So the transformed pilot rose with triumphant purpose, away from the pilot's chair, away from her old life, and old insecurities. Her breasts, Phoenix-like, tore through the few loose buttons remaining on her jacket. Her carnal mountains rode high and ripe upon her sleek, bare chest like beige canteloupes spelunking their way from darkness into naked, erotic light.

She pushed Maria off the copilot with an angered shove. "No....this one is mine alone!" she growled. Struggling through the erotic haze, Alfonso fixed his attention upon the one that had claimed him. One of the women, who seemed to be their leader had said something about Daniella mutating, her immune system was too strong, so that when she was infected, something different would happen.

Her hair flowed down in a liquid cascade, pure white rather than brown or blond. Not the pale, withered color of great age, but a vibrant mane that shone in the light, spilling across shoulders and between spectacular breasts like a shimmering glacier melting with glamour. Her eyes, so deeply blue that the color spilled out into the whites of her eyes fixed upon him, and Alfonso felt as though Winter itself was lusting for his cock. Her pale, toned flesh had become a masterpiece of robust curves entwined with feminine grace; but the glistening moisture of her skin gave the appearance of an ice-sculpture beginning to melt with her own lust. An Ice-Queen come to life, cold perfection on the hunt for a mate. 

She placed her hands upon his heaving chest, reveling in the feeling of chest hair that was thick enough to convey a savage sense of animal passion, but did not obscure the masculine tautness of healthy muscles that conveyed Lusenchi's viability as a mate and father to a woman's young. Why had she not realized his value sooner? It seemed disgusting to her now; the confusion and uncertain vacillation of normal, sexually-repressed women. Sex was to be savored; mankind was her new playground.

Swiftly, she licked his penis with a sloppy caress that gave both of them a sense of the other. Alfonso tightened; that simple touch affecting him in a way that was more intense than anything Maria had done to him so far. Yes...they had said that Daniella would be different; she did not yet understand everything that was happening to her, but she would not be the same as the others transformed by Gaia.

And so his penis throbbed, was it growing larger than his current eight inches? As her fingers gently caressed his member, it certainly seemed to grow tighter. But Lusenchi was for her, a sex-toy for her pleasure and procreation; and her new instincts gave her ideas. She withdrew and returned, naked to the pilot's chair, wrapping her arms around the back of the chair to thrust her bosom forward while her legs spread to expose the gleaming heat of her hungry cunt. Her feet perched upon the arm-rest as she postured herself for mating. The over-instinct that now filled her thoughts gave her new ways to seduce her intended partner; who was already hypnotized by Maria's gyrations; which manipulated the instincts of a male at a subconscious level.

"Rrrrrrrnhhh..." she snarled, blue lips curling. The low throaty grunt triggered Alfonso's most primal urges; changing him from passive pawn to rutting beast. He rose on unsteady feet drunk with lust; rational mind and reasoning abilities were locked away, deep inside his brain. The urges reflected in his narrowed, beastial eyes seemed not unlike the breeding drives of male insects that compel them to willingly surrender their own lives for the chance to inseminate a female; and indeed, the co-pilot would have happily walked across burning coals or stinging scorpions in order to plunge himself into the welcoming womb laid bare before him.

For her part, Daniella wanted him, preferred him that way. She was somewhat different from the other Ladies of Nature; they wanted to chase down men and force them into sex, but Daniella still wanted men to come to her; she still wanted that confirmation of her attractiveness, but she was no less a slut, that was clear.

"Time to fly the friendly skies, Lusenchi...." she chuckled as he lunged.

Alfonso grappled her, and she clung to his chest, wallowing in his hairy masculinity as she wrapped her legs around his torso, both pelvises working in concert, to ease his penis within her slippery folds. Daniella savored the ferocity of his lust, as Lusenchi held her aloft, arms gripping her shapely ass as his tongue slathered and teeth nibbled upon her bosomy bounty.

Cold...colder... The raging beast that had been Alfonso Lusenchi felt the heat, the warmth draining from his flesh. There was only her; his mate was warm, and warmer still. Her cunt, her skin, her breasts...so hot, steaming hot...his own body ached with a deep, numbing chill. His only hope was to plunge deeper, more vigorously into her simmering heat.

Yet he only seemed to lose heat, his legs were shivering from cold, even as his mate continued to grow warmer, until she was almost blistering. He squeezed the muscles of his buttocks as he tried to plunge yet deeper into the frothing, feminine heaven that had entrapped his member, for him this woman embodied the deepest, animal desires for warmth, comfort, and procreation, on every level, Lusenchi was wild with desire for her.

But as Daniella scratched her nails down his muscled back, arched her back to take advantage of the way he sucked her nipples, her instincts told her that his climax was imminent. She knew that when a man climaxed inside her, the daughters of Gaia could infect him, turning him into one of them. She was not entirely sure what would happen with her own womb, but she wanted to savor this man a while longer; she'd worked with him for years; wasted the time they could have had in each others arms due to her confused, meaningless standards and reluctance so common among women.

Instead of allowing him to spurt himself inside her, she leapt from his arms, grasped his penis; harder than before, more rigid than should have been possible, and nestled his manmeat between the velvety chasm of her melon-sized boobs. She jiggled each tit, squeezing them together with her hands for added friction. Her cleavage was enough to contain his manhood all except the head. Teasing, touching the tip of his cock with her tongue, she carried him through the valley, through the darkness, into the glory of explosive orgasm.

The first spurt of his sperm came at her with the speed and power of a dive-bombing jet. It seemed to harden, to freeze as it oozed and flowed in pearly rivers across the fertile expanse of her plump bosom. It was a narcotic ecstasy; somehow her body was drawing strength, nourishment from his ejaculate. Gaia told her, Gaia understood. Semen contained numerous sugars and nutrients; Ladies of Nature could survive on it as a food source. No longer would they need to destroy life to nourish themselves, their needs could be met only by the rich spew of men in orgasm. She shut out all else, all but the glory of orgasm, of his semen upon her curvaceous breasts. All she needed was water, sunlight, and to be bathed in sperm. Nothing else mattered, not the turbulence that rocked the airliner, with both its pilots so preoccupied with each other than tending to the instruments was all but impossible.

A sumptuous black woman with tightly braided hair and sleek mahogany skin slid to the controls. The jutting splendour of her nude, grapefruit-sized breasts suggested that she had already become a daughter of Gaia.

"As the human Neomi Fox, this body was trained and certified to pilot vessels like this; and I retain the skills of this human now that I have joined Gaia..." assured the naked technician. "But I'll want a taste of his cock in return for getting us to land safely." A reasonable request; but the she-beast that had been Daniela Shremf did not want to share her prize. She wanted this one all to herself. But realistically she could not prevent all her sisters from raping this man if they wished - she would have to enjoy him while she still could.

With impressive agility, Daniella threw her legs around the neck of Alfonso, hoisting herself up to put her face level to his still erect cock. Though he had just had a spine-tingling orgasm, his penis could not deflate; for Daniella had unusual abilities due to her mutation, and after her touch, it was not possible for his cock to rest. Eagerly, the male ground his face into her hot pussy, hands firmly seized her hips as he suckled upon the aroused wetness of her lower lips. And she herself pistoned her head back and forth upon his cock, lips in an o-shape as her tongue danced with superhuman agility upon his already well-used manmeat in a standing 69-position. Could she coax more cum from him so soon? If possible, she intended to do so.




Enter the Amazon Book 3



Their explosions were simultaneous, she felt a potent burst of female ejaculate from her own cunt that her partner drank eagerly, yet despite the battering cascades of burning bliss, she retained the presence of mind to swallow his second, delicious load.

But something was wrong, wonderfully wrong. Even after the last drop, he continued to moan, and buck. Alfonso slid back into his chair, and while Daniella had no doubts that she had taken every drop of his seed; he still jerked and snarled as a man in the throes of ecstasy. With wonder, Daniella watched the constant climax. He was trapped, locked in a cycle of orgasm he could not break. He was frozen in an erotic boiling, a spasm that would not end. Minutes passed while Alfonso laughed and cried all at once, his brain spiralling out of control in a maelstrom of forbidden joy. And all the while his penis, which had never softened, grew larger....harder....firmer....

Laughing, Daniella sat upon him, the throbbing vigor of his rod was like the best of dildo-vibrators. Though he had no more sperm to shoot, he could not escape from this orgasm.

"Where do you wish to land, Great Mother?" Neomi asked Lisa, who was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.

"We are near the Cayman islands; an important center of international finance...attracting rich and powerful individuals from the world over..." Lisa smiled, "But we shall not land at an airport....I have a far better idea!

"After we....disembark; I will send Dylsia back home, back to her friends and family that she might spread our gift further...." But this place....these islands shall serve as a base of operations and means to spread Gaia's purpose the world over!"

********

While tragic, few were surprised when Air Italia flight 69 suddenly exploded barely a mile from a suitable airport and runway. The plane had reported technical problems earlier in the journey; and while those mechanical issues had been repaired, it was not impossible for some obscure technical flaw to have been overlooked.

What was unusual was the fact that there were no bodies found. However, the plane went down over the ocean, so it might be difficult to recover the remains. But some remains were found - clothing. Torn and shredded clothing, but not a single body, living or dead. Curious, but the investigators off the coast of Grand Cayman would simply chalk it up to tragic mechanical failure. And no one would be looking for the nuns, civilians, or military officers on board.



Enter the Amazon Book 4



Part 13: PERSONAL VICTORIES

Ramon had never been a cowardly man; yet it was a fine balance of priorities that told a man how to choose between fight or flight. He was right to conceal himself inside the secret passageway within the lacquered mahogany walls of his employer Marcos' office; the bolt-hole that the smuggler and power-broker had prepared in case an unbribable government came to power with cause to move against him.

But it was not police or army that made Ramon grip the wood panels in fright, it was these impossible, unwholesome women. Yes, any man with any manhood would be tempted by their brazen charms, but the wiry, scarred henchmen had seen sights in the past few days to curl the black hairs of his scraggly goatee. Yes, there was a price to be paid for enjoying the carnal delights that these new women offered. Heh! That was too gentle; He had the distinct sense that these sluts were so consumed with passion, that any man not seduced by the mere splendour of their naked presence would be raped.

He shuddered as he watched his boss, employer, and mentor devolving into a shell of a man. Marcos did not bother to wear pants these days; his vigorous cock was now longer than his forearm, and it seemed almost constantly erect. From a small crevice, concealed by the secret door; Ramon beheld the display that was a sickening as it was arousing. The pudgy, fiftyish crimelord was no longer having sex for pleasure, as he pumped furiously into the strange woman with the golden robes, bending over upon his desk, it seemed as though the criminal mastermind could no longer be at peace unless his manmeat was inside a woman's cunt. He rarely spoke anymore, simply grunting, groping...grasping at the nearest proffering of slick, supple girlflesh that was now in ridiculous abundance throughout the estate. His only joy in life was that transcendant moment when he was in the crotch-grinding act of penetrating a woman. No, it was not for pleasure, but rather for relief. Sweating, heaving as he thrusted, it was clear that he had become an animal.

".....And the Government Bonds from your banks in Rio de Janeiro;" instructed the wide-assed, lurid Priestess, producing documents from the shelf beneath the desk, offering them to Marcos, even as he plunged his meat deeper into a moist, warm slit. He scribbled down his signature without even the thought of examining the situation. In the past few minutes that Ramon had watched; the smuggler had signed away tens of millions of dollars worth of property and financial assets to this mystery woman due to her own....assets of a more....physical kind. And there was no regret; only savage joy that he was being allowed to copulate again. Not that these women had high standards....sluts.....all of them.....

SLUT...he had been using that word quite a bit lately, yet in this case Ramon could not help but pause in wonderment at how absolutely true that word had become. These eerie plant-women gave no thought to the appearance, status, or behavior of any man; they simply tackled anything with a penis and began to demonstrate their arousal with hands, lips, and breasts. The plant-women never wore clothing, (save the Priestess) had no thoughts other than sex, and acted as though...each copulation were a personal victory. Their feminine faces were masks of glee and triumph whenever a penis was inside them, which was often.

No...Ramon would NOT meet his employer's fate! Turning down the tunnel, he resolved to continue with his plan to simply flee; run away and not look back. For good cause; he could not simply refrain, resist. Their allure was too powerful; he had no illusions. Ramon had given in to their charms before, and would do so again. Even if he did not; he was increasingly certain that these she-beasts had the ability and urges to simply force the sex! 

The tunnel in which the erstwhile minion made good his flight connected to the attic of the central mansion, and the considerable, illicit wealth that made the estate possible had also made it feasible to install a covert surveillance system within this bare, grim corridor of dull cement. Prudent, the small screens in the first alcove would have allowed Marcos to monitor each part of his estate for threats or intruders - except that these intruders had been welcomed; and the wealthy smuggler and crime boss had been their first victim. Ramon had to stop to adjust his pants; walking was becoming ever more difficult! For he too, had partaken of the brazen offers of these unwholesome, fast-breeding whores and... well, that wasn't quite it, he had simply not resisted when they confronted him with jiggling breast and hungrily-moist cunts. As a consequence, his cock was more erect than he had ever believed possible. His beefy rod had almost doubled in length, and would soon be half as long as the barrel of the AK-47 slung across his shoulder for protection. And he had been hard all day! Sure, a 'morning flagpole' was not unusual for him, but he'd been awake for six hours today; and his penis had never softened, never lessened its ardor in that time. If anything, he was only growing harder...longer....bigger! 

No...no...mustn't think about his cock, that would only make the urges worse! It was as though a hot coal had been slipped inside him; a furious burn that inflicted seething pleasure upon his nether regions. Clutching his own shoulders, he grunted as another spasm overtook him, the magnitude of his cravings were so great that his body was suffering....what he might describe as withdrawal symptoms. All of Marcos' men were familiar with such, for cocaine trafficking was a chief enterprise of this criminal operation, yet...it was these women! Their touch was addictive! And continuous indulgence would ruin a man just as surely as the most potent intoxicant. Lips quivering, he struggled to adjust his pants to make more room for his enflamed, incorrigible penis. But he dare not slow, he must check upon his contact; the other with whom he was planning to escape.....there, in the screen on the upper-left corner in the alcove filled with surprisingly advanced electronics to monitor the sprawling grounds. Yes...Maria was there and....no...they got to her!

The plain-spoken, late-fiftyish house maid was thrashing upon a bed, tearing at her clothes that had suddenly fallen slack. Once, her aging plumpness had widened her body beyond the parameters of what almost any man could find attractive; yet Ramon could see her figure visibly contracting in the glowing screen, as she jerked and arched her back. The contortion of her ruby lips spoke plainly of her hoarse screams. And when her firm hands tore open her blouse and white apron, the man watching was taken aback - such breasts were not possible! While there might be some rare women whose breasts might approach the size of soccerballs as hers did, surely none could be so...so high....so perky! And of course, she was younger, wrinkles melting until she seemed right at the first cusp of marriageable age. No, her breasts were not growing larger still!? Surely not! The way the bronze orbs hung upon her heaving chest, so high and firm....what of gravity! The weight of such vast bosoms must be considerable! Yet Maria, the transforming house maid possessed blossoming boobs that defied normal physics. In seconds, she collapsed in a quivering heap; and even on the small screen, Ramon could see the moisture within her sleek thighs that bespoke of a successive onslaught of female orgasms. 

In moments, she would regaim her composure, and as Ramon had seen before these past few days, she would go down into the yard for lesbian sex. But....but she knew him, knew that he was planning to escape; now that she was one of....them.....she might report his movements! What could he do!?

There, near the center screen of the surveillance station; he saw Jorge, among his best friends; but he....no, there was no hope. He could never rely on Jorge in a situation like this; the portly, but well-muscled thug had come to Marcos because he could no longer find honest employment elsewhere; Jorge had always been driven by a passion for women so great that he could not stop fondling any girl he found attractive, had made one to many overtures towards tempermental women with powerful husbands; angered too many people in Brasilia. Plus, his receeding hairline gave him the aspect of an older man; and Jorge lacked the appreciable wealth that might make such a man attractive. Yet here, none of that mattered.

In the chamber with him, there were at least seven of the horrible plant-women that Ramon could see on the screen. They were rubbing, caressing their own tanned bellies, which seemed to be...no...no they were not swelling with pregnancy!? Were they? It seemed so; the naked sluts grimaced as their wombs grew visibly larger, more gravid in seconds as yet another generation of feminine abominations grew. Ramon had heard doctors talking about strains of bacteria that could reproduce several times in an hour; and he feared, feared not only for himself, but for all men. His plump friend however, was filled with nothing but glee, as he himself filled yet another of the women with his own virile rod. And her face snarled with wild triumph; as if each blast of sperm was a personal victory. Perhaps it was. She...they were a plague! A plague like nothing the world had known....a plague that not many would want to resist! Certainly not Jorge, as the throbs of his pelvis reached a high point, buried doggy-style into his latest slut, both of them manic with lust and the gratification of lust. In Ramon's experience, it was easier for men to enjoy sex than women, yet he could not tell which of the pair was the most crazed with this perverse Breeding Lust.

And the wiry voyeur watching this lurid drama on screen thought of his own cock, thought of the way that ejaculating into these women did not allow a man's meat to soften, of how soon he was ready for action after his first encounter. It seemed quite possible that Jorge had fathered the young of all seven women that could be seen, as their bellies thrust up ever higher with obscenely fecund pregnancies. He nearly jumped then, as if his own cock had a mind of its own, becoming electrified by the prospect of so much girl flesh.

Turning aside from the fertile horror, he saw another screen in the lower right side of the electronics booth, with a camera to the outside yards. A section of soil had been cleared into a flat bed of mud dozens of meters in length on either side, and it was filled with these she-creatures. Naked limbs and engorged sex organs thrashed with a lurid intensity beyond the control of reason or restraint. There must have been close to one hundred of the females. The passion contorting their elegant face was only partially obscured by the slick mud the throngs reveled in. The palpable emotional intensity seemed appropriate only if these women were fighting a war through lesbian sex. The fury, the consternation, the lip-quivering grunts and groans were much like those of a life or death struggle. Yet the struggle here was for orgasm.

The colors of their hair and skin mostly obscured by mud, yet Ramon could still make out a few dominant individuals amongst the erotic horde of aurburn-crowned, coconut-like breasts, and cinnamon-tanned skin. One lovely had grasped the feet of a shorter girl, pulling them behind each other in an X-shape, while using her victim's toes to masturbate her own cunt. Another taller slut held a girl upside down by the curves of her own hips while smothering her prey's face in her pussy, and her head in the mud. Another gorgeous abomination seemed to have pinned three beauties at once by using her knees against their chins to grind them into the mire, all the while grazing her engorged labia over the plump breasts of all three, a sextet of erect nipples so hard and firm that they provided surprising tittilation to an overly-sensitive femalia. And others, and still others. A forest of bobbing breasts, and pussies that seemed to gape like predatory mouths, so severe were their yearnings.

Ramon closed his eyes, grasping his renegade penis through his denim pants, as if pinching off the mighty shaft would lessen the urges bombarding him. But it was as if a steel crowbar was encased by his underwear; his zipper beginning to slide loose from the pressure, and the besieged criminal had no doubt that his penis was still growing.

Yet when he looked again, he could not help but notice a screen on the middle-left of the central panel, showing the other side of the backyard, were grass had been cleared to make way for...for ferns? Yes, they had the stems and crosswise leaves of ferns, yet each of the dozens of plants seemed to gleam with rainbow irridescence, like nothing Ramon had ever seen. A brain-washed teenaged boy, his penis chronically erect, was gingerly working to harvest the plants while intact. No doubt he too, was a sex-addict and the women could force his labor by withholding sex. Those ferns....so strange, and they were being removed and potted with such reverence and respect, that it was clear that somehow the plants were crucial to the terrifying fertility of these women. He was not a biologist, but there was no doubt that the women were not human, they were...creatures of some sort, exploiting man's need for sex. The ferns....somehow they must be related to the life-cycle of these libidinous non-human females.

No more....he had seen enough! Ramon would not glance at the next screen, he would not study the live footage of the odd, bush-like cocoons buried in the ground, growing like plants, from which three more naked women emerged like snakes from an egg. He would not stare at their nude, oily flesh; already ripe with full, sexual maturity. And still another! Her hand pinching her own nipples as she kicked free of her cocoon, urges so powerful she could not wait to be born before starting to masturbate.

But even if they never caught him, his own growing libido would soon become so powerful that he would simply surrender himself to the naked mud-wrestlers. He would fail to escape merely if his resolve to run lessened. It seemed a critical moment; Ramon did not believe he could survive even one more mating with these creatures. One more jet of his sperm, if his penis was bathed in girlcum once more; he sensed that his mind would snap, and he would pursue the women directly, rather than simply not resisting their own nymphomaniacal overtures. Once that happened, he would be lost; like Marcos was. He would gladly surrender anything, agree to anything to retain the freedom to plunge into a dripping cunt whenever he felt the need, which would be almost constant!

PART 14: A NEW LEAF

**********

Deon Duvalier was accustomed to the wild and eccentric tourists; those with strange misconceptions about dress and behavior for visiting Caribbean islands like Grand Cayman, where he had lived and worked all his life; more recently here in airport security. Despite the new regulations and focus on security, the dark-skinned, grizzled old man did not anticipate any serious danger or trouble. He read his newspaper nearby the security metal detectors; scarcely aware of the strange uproar and grumbles of disbelief from the lined-up passengers crawling their way through the security process.

Deon's field of view was blocked by the newspaper, but he could still see a pair of bare, feminine feet walking through the metal detector. He ignored her, yet the outraged cries continued. Slowly, Deon's eyes went higher...higher up sleek calves and unclad thighs, up to...the woman had no pants! He was staring at her bare womanhood! And then her firm abdomen, up towards jiggling mountains of tit with no traces of tanlines, nor did these perky breasts seem to have any need of a bra.

She was a velvety dream of voluptuous peaks and hard curves. No woman should have been able to retain the luscious bounty of hips, ass, and bosom while maintaining such a slender standard to her waist. Her legs were sculpted from a cream-colored dream, her boobs hung firm and ripe, nipples seeming to angle forward as through to recriminate Deon for not lusting after her even more than he was. Between her legs, a coppery bush seemed to present itself to the light from the way her hips swayed; and Deon forgot to be embarrased or shocked; her pussy seemed only to cry out a welcome towards anything with a hard cock. 

And her breasts! They were of course, larger and higher than they should have been, Yet he was not sure whether his hands could encompass them in their entirety. Would it take one hand, or both to cup either jugg? Their apparent softness would no doubt flow through his grasp even while firmly maintaining an impossibly enticting shape. But no, she was not wholly naked: A flimsy, gauzy white veil draped over her bronze hair. It had intricate lacey patterns and embroidered designs that for a moment seemed almost....religious?

"I surrender..." the woman said; red lips raised in a crooked smile.

**********

"Why do you fear them?" the strange, crazy woman asked in a sneer. Deon thought he detected traces of an Italian accent. "Men crave the chance to stare at, to gaze upon, and to touch breasts like mine. Yet you cover my nudity with this ridiculous blanket! As if all do not know that I have glorious, naked breasts beneath this pathetic covering!"

"Eh- please c-come with us the security station...." Deon asked, as he and another islander working at the airport hustled the madwomen through a side door.

"What, do you feel that you are not deserving of more than one glance at my bosom? Wrong, my son. I want you, desire you to enjoy these tits upon my chest!" Her shimmering eyes turned sideways to rivet him in their depths; did Deon see a faint, passing green glow? "You must trust me when I tell you; a woman does not present herself in the nude unless she wants to inspire the lust; women of my sort, that crave the attention of a man's roving eye, we want you to enjoy us. It gives us pleasure when you take pleasure. Why do you not wish for all of us to be made happy?"

"P-please ma'am, there are children watching, come with us into this room so that we can - "

"THEY DESERVE THE TRUTH! NUDITY IS THE HIGHEST, PUREST TRUTH!" she hissed in rage. "AN END TO THE LIES AND DECEITS WE MASK OURSELVES WITH!"

What happened next was a blessing in a way; when she pounced upon the older, greying security guard, the way she wrapped her legs around his pelvis, and her arms around his neck obscured her indecent, thrusting breasts from passersby. Still, it was hard to walk with this naked nymphomaniac hanging off him, but Deon eventually succeeded in stumbling through the non-descript doors off the main concourse that would lead to the security station. His first attempt to remove her came as the door closed, and the two of them grappled each other in the narrow, sterile hallway leading to a communications center to the right, 20 feet ahead, and another door far off at the end of the passage.

He tried, tried to pry her off of him without causing damage; yet those slim, perfumed arms encircled him like bands of velvety steel, her strength as improbably great as was the lofty swell of her gravity-thwarting bosom. He would have attempted to keep talking, to calm her down, yet Deon could form no words with her tongue thrusting all throughout his mouth. And she did not even know him! It must be some new drug; yes that made sense. Some terrible new narcotic that turns naive European tourists into sex maniacs. What else made sense?

Finally, the veil-draped slut paused, rising from the security guard's mouth as if coming up for air.

"Ah, I see how it is;" she purred, green light dancing in her mischievous eyes. "You are a healthy man, but at your age you are experiencing...performance problems!" She tittered in that European accent, was it Italian? Well, that was the last straw, the naked woman was clearly unarmed, and unlikely to be a threat to security, but she had no right to speak to him that way!




Enter the Amazon Book 4



"But you want these tits, don't you?" she queried, hands raising up the proferred mammaries for his inspection. Even now, you crave to lick, suck, and stroke my....endowments." she gave a quick jiggle for emphasis. "Yet you dare not embrace my bosom, for your impotence would be a terrible embarassment; imagine! A man given the chance to fondle and worship breasts like mine! Breasts that put canteloupes to shame! Breasts with firmness like unto bowling balls and yet the softness of a wet dream! 

"But I can sense your desires! The lust, the craving is ingrained too deep in a man's soul! Your age stops you from growing a shaft firm enough to penetrate me, yet the bosom, the full swell of teat and tit is such a thing of beauty, that you yearn for them all the same! I shall surprise you, old and horny man, suck them! suck upon these tits, and you shall never need fear your impotence again!"

But before Deon could make a response more coherent than outraged sputterings, a calloused hand grasped hold of the auburn mane of this sex-crazed tourist and yanked backwards with a vigorous and unsympathetic tug.

"This peepshow is over, slut!"

**********

"Wh-why do men and w-women date?" she asked him. In spite of himself, Pablo found his rage and fear softening. This one, this shorter female was not like the others. She had not confronted the captured nature guide with the beastial estrus and haughty lust as had the others.

"To see if they can grow to like each other." The harsh curses and defiance Pablo normally resorted to seemed hollow and unnecessary before this petite, naked girl. She was certainly one of the female abominations that spawned regularly on the transformed estate of the notorious drug-lord, yet she was weaker, less aggressive than the others. 

"But....if a man seems to be an acceptable mate, wh-why does the woman not tear off his clothes and couple with him at first sight?" Her pale-grey eyes were genuinely puzzled, her face as wan and forlorn as a woman could be with the beauty of a world-class fashion model. Pablo shook his head with a wry grin.

"Real w- ...er....human women...they must be selective when they choose their men. For....humans, bearing children is difficult, and time-consuming. A woman must find a man that she can bond with, connect on a deeper level, a man with whom she can connect in her soul. Some do otherwise, some do not always find soul-mates, but even still, a woman must consider her men carefully." The pain of being tied-up spread-eagle against wooden struts embedded in the ceiling seemed to fade at these innocent, yet improper questions.

"I must...I am so....what is the word...curious...about human customs...." Her words had an untraceable accent; but it was remarkable that she was able to speak at all, having been spawned so recently from a plant pod. But Pablo knew to expect that once the Seal on the Counter-Balance had been broken, the spawn produced would have extraordinary abilities and knowledge, apparently a form of race memory. All to resist the spread of their ancient enemy.

"I am... a runt," she reported. " I am too small, too weak to struggle with the others in the mating muds. If I...If I cannot overcome an opponent in the muds, and reach climax....then...then I cannot become fertile! What is the purpose of my existence then? Should I be thinking of...another way? A...human way?" Interesting, Pablo thought. He had named her Platina, from her unusual, grey-white eyes that seemed almost platinum-like. She had indeed seemed to be the outcast, runt of the litter. Her petite frame and slender build made her outrageous bosom seem especially awkward; the jutting canteloupes were a burden for one of her slight stature. Her warm complexion was a soothing amber in which her skin and hair seemed nearly the same color; and she had a classic, feminine vulnerability that aroused protective instincts in the restrained man very different from the crazed breeding-bitches that regularly milked him of sperm.

"I want to believe that.....if there is no hope for me among my own kind...m-might I find a place among the human world?" It seemed unlikely for a freak of nature that mimicked humanity as a sexual parasite, but Pablo didn't have the heart to tell her no.

"Nothing is impossible." He assured her, that maxim seeming more apt than ever these past few days. Her hands began to caress his naked thigh, and a thrill rippled through him as Platina's hot breath teased his exposed, semi-erect member. But she could sense him turning away.

"Why do you turn away when one of the Offspring tries to suck upon your cock?" Platina asked, with perfect innocence. 

"I must answer your question with a question: Why do you feel the need to suck upon my cock?"

"I....it...." it was difficult to put her primal drives into words. " There is...a great need, a great....burning...between my legs," she gestured to her naked cunt for emphasis. "When I see a man....there is a great desire for him...I need...I need him to be...inside me. Then....there is the shaking in my lips." Her mouth puckered, and she gazed with unabashed hunger at his groin. "I know what to do...I feel it....I feel how to suck the cock..You will enjoy it! I know it! I feel it!" As she spoke, there came to Platina's voice a frenzied tone; as if speaking about her urges made them more powerful. She sniffed his naked groin and her tongue darted out for a sensuous lick of his rod.

"N-n-no...y-you cannot become....r-respected in human society that way..." Pablo protested, trying not to enjoy the lurid caress. Her softly innocent doe-eyes raised to his face in genuine, innocent confusion.

"But....do not all men crave wild sex with young women? Am I not attractive?"

"N-no...but human women do not behave this way....human women seek something far beyond sucking men's cocks and becoming pregnant." Her face was imploring....pleading...

"Human women seek something your mother-mistress cannot conceive; they seek love."

**********

Brunhilde Gerty knew something was desperately, terribly wrong. As she squirmed upon the hard linoleum of the outer hallway leading to the communications center for airport security, she found it a struggle to remember her own life.

Instead, her mind was being assaulted by eerie, impossible images of animals - she was the animal! Lions, bears...earthworms...tapeworms....dinosaurs.. Why? How? It was that strange, wicked, naked tourist-slut. Why had she felt the overpowering need to touch those breasts? Those pillow-soft mounds that taunted, tormented her! Brunhilde herself being completely flat. Yet...yet she had sucked them! Without understanding why, her lips had encircled the bulging bulbs of tit and suckled deeply of a fruity, impossible nectar. Why? Why had she been compelled to do it? The answer seemed inches away... She grunted, feeling her aging flesh tighten and fill with a strange, robust vigor. The heat, the fiery heat in her breasts was beyond endurance! 

Brunhilde had long suffered from depressing recurrences of breast cancer, and numerous surgeries and harsh treatments had burned away whatever youthful beauty she had left, leaving her a curveless, sexless, middle-aged husk. She'd been lucky on balance; still healthy enough to be credible as a security guard.

Why think of that now? Why did it matter so much that she hadn't been with a man in twenty years? Women just didn't need sex the same way that men did, why did she crave...no....she did not crave a man....she was starting to desire...all men, she wanted orgies!

The images returned, more focused, vivid and disturbing that before. As Brunhilde clawed at her throbbing, inflating chest, she suddenly dove into the mind of a placid female buffalo, nursing a young calf....then she was a cow...doing the same...the sea....she shared the mind of a female blue whale also nursing her legless young.

She...she hadn't had breasts in years! Not since the second round of surgeries! Yet now...now swells of rounding flesh began to rise into view like yeast-laden bread dough...it took her a moment to remember bra-sizes....cup sizes...she...she hadn't even bothered - needed to wear one in years! She arched her back on the cool linoleum, straining from what appeared to be plums beneath the skin of her chest, widening and enlarging her once-flat bosom to accomodate. But by no means where her neo-breasts finished!

Brunhilde barked out a cry that was half snarl, half yell as a rush of orgasmic animal memories asaulted her. She was a desert lizard, appraising a lithe male whipping about in a species-encoded mating dance. Finally, she was in darkness...no...sex...rutting, sweaty mating...but not her...she was a venereal parasite, a mite of some sort, eager to spread...to procreate.

She leapt to her human feet with renewed vigor, her pants gone, her legs sleek and toned with chiseled beauty. But...her tits! And tits they were! She cupped her ripening bosom as the fleshy tangerines widened and throbbed, alternating between a creeping growth and jiggling leaps of expansion!

Her cunt clenched...so tight! It was a though a horde of...of....orgasms were barricaded in her slippery slit, unable but yearning for release! Brunhilde snarled, the smoothing skin on her face drenching in sweat as her new bosoms heaved - which way would they go? She'd observed that her ripening orbs leapt forward in size when they jiggled, and widened with the slow creep.

"JIGGLING!" She announced through clenched teeth as the sweat-stained remnant of her blue uniform was strained by globes the size of grapefruit blossoming towards a melon's girth. It seemed that all her doubt, inhibition, and shame was being drained away into them, such civilized emotions no longer troubling her waking mind.

She stumbled through the hallway, confused, lusting, joyous, frightened....she placed a hand on the row of windows showing the monitors and technical equipment used by the authorities to monitor the airport. That woman....that strange, terrible, beautiful naked woman had been through here, and where once there were stocky, swarthy male officers going about their rounds and chatting on occasion, now the room was filled with curvaceous young women caressing pillowy breasts right on the cusp of impossible size. They grunted, and thrashed upon the naked laps of their male prey sitting in chairs, unconsciously ripping and shedding their clothing. Out of eleven men there seemed to be only four left. 

From the outside, the floor of the monitor station was not immediately visible; but momentarily a naked and impossibly delicious young woman arose with a flourish of her sweat-slicked, coppery hair; a long tattoo of a feathered serpent coiled around the woman's throat and neck. Yes...she remembered...

There had been a guard named Rico who it was rumored had once worked for a cartel in Venezuela; but he'd gone straight and was trying to turn a new leaf; and Brunhilde couldn't help but notice this woman had the exact same marking that Rico did - it seems he'd turned a new leaf in more ways than one.

The male guards were rapidly being replaced by salacious sirens who rejected clothing as surely as they rejected chastity. The situation was starting to resemble some sort of adult movie with absurdly gorgeous women in the most unlikely roles. If the four men now remaining noticed their fate; it was less compelling to them than the bobbing breasts, savage kisses, and sopping cunts that rutted and raged upon their steely members as the men spasmed with desire.

Yet, none of this disturbed her as much as it should have, because the middle-aged German could think of nothing but her own bosom. Her breasts...they seemed to have...peaked. Seven inches of pure teat from chest to nipple with a bulging girth even the brawniest man would have trouble encircling with a pawing grip. Hers were at a limit; not any biological limit, but rather a limit of human respectability. Any larger, even a millimeter larger and her boobs would be freakish. She balanced at the cusp between maximizing her ability to stimulate human males, and offending society with the surging bounty only a custom bra could contain. Not that she ever wished to wear a bra again.

"STOP!!" he stammered; the smooth, metal door to the south, leading to the administrative offices was open; and an idealistic rookie stood there, pistol raised high in a shaking grip; and it was unclear whether he actually believed he could hold the Ladies of Nature hostage, or whether the firearm was to bolster his own flagging courage. Pudgy-faced, sweaty he stammered and clenched his arms, his inexperience as obvious to the females as the tent in his pants he had hoped in vain to hide.

"G-get your hands up! A-A-A-O-Over your heads!" he demanded.

"Why should we put our hands up there?" asked the she-demon that had once been Rico. "When there are so many more interesting places to put them!" Her fingers slid teasingly over her engorged and very female crotch.

"N-no...r-raise your hands in th-the air!" The rookie adjusted his grip, and cocked the barrel yet again.

"But that's not where you really want my hands....and her fingers disappeared in the jutting valleys of creamy cleavage formed by the bounty of her baby-feeders. And the Dance began. In all the Daughters of Gaia; the patterns were ingrained in them whether they were reborn weeks or seconds ago. There was something about the way she thrust her hips; a subtle pattern in the swaying of her bronzed ass cheeks; that triggered something in the men watching.

The snake-tattooed slut writhed sensuously, her toned flesh seeming to undulate luridly, almost bonelessly as her hips and belly swayed and sashayed in a secret rhythm that her male prey did not even know he was vulnerable to.

What made the Mating Dance all the more compelling was the blatant passion that seethed in those dark eyes that riveted the rookie with a stare of indecent intent. Behind that elegant face with the surreal beauty fashion models would kill for, simmered a cauldron of boiling estrus that would have terrified even the randiest teenage boy; could he comprehend the true magnitude of her volcanic sexual cravings.

For the metamorphed entity that had once been a hitman for a cocaine cartel, this transformation was effortless because the lust of this new body was so consuming, that it outweighed any desire, fear, or ambition might have once existed as a human. Her past was utterly meaningless; all that mattered was Gaia's will, and that will was that she might find a man to fill her cunt NOW!

The tattoo; all the security personel at the airport recognized it; the feathered snake winding around the woman's shoulders and neck but....but was it moving? As the she-devil thrashed and rutted in the air, was her tattoo moving with her? The slithery dance routine spoke of a tittilating grace and flexibility that proved equally hypnotic as the timeless signals conveyed by a naked, slick pussy and hardening nipples atop jiggling mountains of mammalian promise. Her nudity laid bare her naked arousal; combining with the fluidity of her bump-and-grind enticements to produce a mesmerizing spectacle that stole away a man's resolve before he even knew he was in danger.

The Rookie could do nothing but gape as the tattooed serpent seemed to tease and toy with the woman's breasts with its scintillating coils and forked tongue. He could do nothing but gasp at the discomfort of his impossibly rigid cock so confined as it was; his own state of male excitement was clearly no optical illusion. 

Nor could he even be bothered to react as Patience approached and took the pistol from him. Eliciting a dainty grunt as her small, slim fingers bent backwards the barrel of the pistol amidst the groaning protest of the contorted steel.

His face...the rookie's face twisted as the remnants of his intellect warred against the primal onslaught from his most primitive instincts. The collapse of reason and willpower were audible, voiced as they were by a soft sigh. Rookie seemed grateful that lust had conquered logic, as he lurched forward towards the object of his desire; happy to plunge himself in the paradise between her legs without the burden of his intelligence and suspicion to warn him of dangers he no longer cared to resist.

The spectacle was almost enough to distract Brunhilde from her own expansive endowments. But again, that burning, the tingling continued! Her breasts...they had seemed to stop growing, yet that sensation remained! The sense of burning, tingling that she knew heralded the explosive growth of her juggs. Why? Her endowments were still for the moment, why did it feel like they were still growing?

She stumbled from the feeling of growing weight on her chest, though her breasts still seemed the same size...why? what? She grunted, relying on her new instincts to help her. She still had on her uniform shirt...she hated it! Hated the order, restriction and containment such clothing signified. Brunhilde would be free of this oppression!

Yelling, she tore asunder her uniform, to be finally, forever, gloriously naked at last! Her careening breasts took a moment, too long to stop bouncing, even considering their size. She fondled, caressed herself and found....

"I thought it was a nice touch. What with losing your figure to cancer surgeries." explained the nude, Italian tourist with the gauzy veil over her head, her skin glistening with various moistures from innumerable lovers.

"Four....four of them?" Brunhilde marveled. Two rows of generous tits bobbed from her luscious chest. The combined sensations, even from nothing more than the air, was stunning!

"The Will of Gaia does not always express in the same way in all creatures." Patience placed a delicate hand on the lower right tit in a comforting gesture. "Diversity makes us adaptable; there need to be different strains of the Ladies of Nature, to survive...adapt...and conquer." 

But she had almsot forgotten about Deon; the crazy woman had made him suck from her tits, and a change came over him; like a spiritual awakening; and the grey-haired guard pounced upon Brunhilde, eager to plunge himself into both this new world, and her own wet slit. She worried that he would suffocate; his face and chest wallowing in the quadruple bounty of her firm-nippled bosom. It took only a brush from his erect, naked cock, just the faintest touch across her ripening, opening lower lips to set her off. And it was only then that Brunhilde's orgasms finally arrived.

*********

The sexual predator that had been Lisa Sorrentino was pleased. She swiveled in the plush chair, totally nude, caressing the heads of the two men suckling her ample tits.

One was a dark-skinned native of the island, in command of the local airport security, perhaps fiftyish with a salt-and-pepper beard. He grunted as he swirled his tongue deliciously around her right nipple. At the other breast was a younger, blond man with a thin moustache; the liason with the American TSA agency. She had needed to permit these two to retain their manhood, and their humanity - to keep up appearances. So rather, she had simply exposed them to her own personal nectar; the unprecedented chemical compounds awakening their minds to the grandeur of Gaia's will.

She could tell from their coos of delight that both men had been fully Awakened, fully loyal to the Earth and the Ladies of Nature, but she permitted them to drink yet more, feeding her own instinctive urges.

The point had been reached when the Ladies would undergo an exponential increase in numbers - tens of thousands of humans at this airport to feed upon and convert. Patience had been a good choice - she and all of the nuns seduced with a zeal that was a wonder to behold. And that fervor would be coordinated and directed through the eternal Web of life-energy that encircled the Earth, allowing the Ladies to commune with each other and send telepathic commands to the Awakened men.




Enter the Amazon Book 4



They would spread across the Earth, initially with an organized strategy. Here, in the lush, carpeted office of the airport manager, she could call up the records of all airline tickets, and make inferences about travelers. The most clearly wealthy frequent flyers would simply be Awakened, if male. Detained by airport 'security' and lured into sucking the nectar from the ripe teats of a transformed officer. Like these men before her, they would seem outwardly normal, but would follow any orders given by a Lady of Nature. Of course, female frequent travelers of obvious wealth would simply transform completely into daughters of Gaia once exposed, all the easier. 

But a small percentage of those who traveled Coach, especially those traveling alone would find themselves detained by the strangely gorgeous, unusually boxom women that the security officers had become. It would seem odd to men at first, to be isolated in a small, sterile room and be strip-searched by a woman, much less one voluptuous enough for porn. But most, once assailed by naked tits thrusting out from a uniform, when her nude flesh pressed against him, the vast majority would not even think of protesting. If alone with a man, a Ladies' Mating Dance might not even be necessary!

And then, after ejaculating inside one of her daughters, her body could use the man's seed, changing and converting it into an infectious agent, capable of rewriting the very cells of the man that produced them! These former-men, the 'Naturalized' as she liked to call them, would be interviewed; some would be sent on their way, to rapidly Awaken and Naturalize their friends and family. Those with the fewest ties to other people would be assigned to accompany one of the Awakened frequent fliers - so that the politicians and business moguls would arrive at their destination with a luscious entourage of buxom lovelies to convert their places of business.

By now Lisa mused, it would already be too late to stop them. The Naturalized and Awakened were already departing on airliners for destinations from Tokyo to Timbuktu, and by the time the authorities comprehended the threat, they would already be jetting their seed into one of her daughters!

But....there might be a risk....Lisa sensed that, as the first to be Naturalized, she had a powerful influence on the rest of the daughters, she seemed to have the ability to direct the senses and emotions - what would it mean if she were captured, harmed or killed? Would that stop the other Ladies? Would it prevent them from being able to organize through the Over-instinct? She was uncertain, but decided not to present a public face; she would be on the move, directing her daughters on the run, seducing and infecting humans along the way, until the happy day came where there was no place she could run to that was not dominated by the Ladies of Nature.

**********

PART 15: UNRESTRICTED BREEDING

Tim yawned as he fought off highway hypnosis during his long, long drive back to the Frat house where he lodged during his college education. The visit to his parents had been.....typical, typically boring. 

His eyes, one brown and the other blue avoided the glare of sunlight at Dusk, as he glanced at the other lane preparing to - hey...that other car...

It was an expensive-looking Mercedes with a quartet of frolicking babes cavorting in the front and back seats, the windows being down Tim could see as they - yeah! He wasn't dreaming, she did it again! There was a bronze-skinned, probably hispanic hotty flashing her jutting tits at him! He couldn't hear her lurid invitations, but from the laughter, and wry sneer on her lips, Tim could guess that it was some sort of indecent proposal. Next, a glorious pair of ass-cheeks pressed to the front passenger-side window and - 

"Dude! She'd not wearing underwear!" In fact...looking at them... "Are they all naked? All four of them?" That was when the sirens came.

The State Highway patrol car flashed an apprehending red and blue as it signalled for the obscene vehicle to pull over. Tim nodded, unsurprised. Well, those chicks would get busted, but he made sure to set up his picture phone to take some shots of the ripe asses and jiggling titflesh blatantly exposed in the Mercedes. Heh, he'd have a story to tell his frat buddies - and as his cell recorded images of their nude, bronzed flesh, he relished the expressions that would soon be plastered on his friends faces when he backed up his story about these flashers with some pics.

"Well, I'd better pull into the other lane, so the cops can get behind those babes," Tim remarked as his phone recorded them. But the police cruiser kept pace behind Tim, in his own lane.

"Huh, must've been trying to switch at the same time I was..." But The police kept behind him, sirens flashing! All the while, two pairs of unusually perky breasts pressed against the glass of the car in front of Tim, two women apparently locking arms as they shamelessly, deliberately exposed their feminine assets to anyone other drivers. And yet....the police car stayed in Tim's lane...

"What? Are they after me? Naked women flashing people on the road, and they need to pull me over? That's...that's just crazy! What the hell!? " Well, just in case, better pull over.

And sure enough, the Cruiser pulled over behind him, as the naked exhibitionists sped on past. Hands gripping the steering wheel in white-knuckled tension, Tim shook his head in confusion as he waited for - well, that was quick. Usually it takes a couple minutes for them to run your plates. 

But sure enough, a statuesque honey-blonde amazon strode from the Cruiser, the reddish glow of the sunset reflecting off her silvery sunglasses, but it seemed odd that her long hair was so loose and unbound as it was, most police women Tim had seen preferred tight buns. But even in the rear-view mirror, Tim couldn't help but notice her tits. They seemed to jut forward, confrontational juggs with pronounced nipples indenting her beige uniform in blatant, inappropriate arousal. The buttons were too low on her shirt, cleavage shamelessly apparent. Her lips were twisted in a sneer as she slowly strode up to his window.

Strange, the uniform....it seemed far too large for her in places. The fabric was very baggy around the shoulders and middle, but stretched in the legs and bust. Odd that this state trooper would be assigned a uniform so clearly oversized for her trim figure. And as Tim gazed with unabashed amazement at her mountainous cleavage, it seemed even more odd that she would not be wearing a bra.

"Eh...errr....m-my license and registration?" Tim offered, rolling down his window. The lady cop just stared at him ominously from behind those silvery shades, teeth clenched around a huge, unlit cigar.

"Ah'm afraid ah'll have ta book ya." She drawled.

"WHAT the - but I...I wasn't even speeding!! And then - you've got those sluts up ahead, naked in public! And what... you...." Tim stammered as she pulled open his door and fingered a pair of hand cuffs.

"Yup, it's a Restriction Violation."

"Wha- huh? What..a restriction of what? That doesn't....I've never heard of that -" But a slender hand had already reached inside - inside his pants!

"YAAHAAAAHH!" Tim's shaft hardened almost instantly as the silky, feminine hands gripped his meat with a quivering desire. 

"An unlawful restriction of a nice....hard cock..." she hissed between clenched teeth. And then the handcuffs were out, Tim found himself chained to his own steering wheel!

With swift gestures too deft to be believed, his pants were off, and somehow, those thrusting, dangerous breasts seemed to shrug out of the button-down uniform. Rosy-tipped footballs whose very image burned into his brain a primal instinct to lick and suckle. The officer glanced at his luggage and backpack, Then, as her sopping wet cunt lips teased and caressed his rigid rod, she waggled her bosom at his face.

"Suck 'em, college boy!"

*********

Dylsia purred with delight, weaving dangerously on the road as she drove up the highway, fully nude. She luxuriated not only in the feel of the slick leather against her naked flesh, but also in the sensations coming from their newest convert.

She had learned to tap into Gaia fully enough to share in the experience of transformation of recent converts, sharing their soul-shattering bliss as they were formatted into new Ladies of Nature.

Dylsia's lips pursed as she lived the searing ecstasy Tim felt with each grunting thrust, each penetration of the willing slit grinding down upon him. Dylsia giggled slightly as she was linked to not only the pleasure of Tim's final male orgasm, but also the soaring rapture of the infector spores replicating and rewriting the nature of the college-kid's every cell.

Again, there was that unmistakable explosion of electrifying tittilation that a Lady felt whenever live sperm was introduced to her pussy - which Dylsia shared. The State Trooper was now hopelessly addicted; as they all were. Some of the transformees had momentarily felt doubt and regret, for fear that they would never again know anything so sublimely blissful as their own transformation into nymphomaniacal succubi - but that was only until each Daughter transformed someone herself! As if the dull throbs of rutting lust that burned in each of their pussies was not enough; the pleasure of transforming normal humans was narcotically intoxicating in its own right.

"Oh yes...her boobs are coming in..." Dylsia grunted, feeling the stimulation as a new pair of succulent double-D's pressed against the rosy endowments of the ravishing female that had once been a middle-aged male officer. Tim's howl of primal passion resonated as her hair lengthened into an auburn cascade, her feminized face sculpting into supermodel-worthy beauty. And everyone shuddered as the two cunts released with an audible pop, Tim's total Naturalization occuring in record time. Fully female mere moments after spurting a final load of sperm into the greedy cunt that had captured her, a hoarse cry of triumph and gratification rising an octave in one breath.

And there was at least another minute of sweat-slicked, snarling lesbian sex; for both females still retained the remnants of their male sex drives, their lust unabated for the metamorphosis.

" Play later, girls..." Dylsia sent to each through the connection of Gaia. "Our Trooper still has to make her rounds....and then infect her department back at home base..." Dylsia reminded.

"I want...I need...to aid...the mission...your mission....mistress..." sent Tim - Tina now, through the life-web that linked their minds.

"Ah, but you get to have more fun...." Dylsia lamented. "The mission of myself and these Nuns that ride with me will be one of stealth and subterfuge, to begin the work of infiltrating the Nation's broadcasting industries. It will take several rounds of manipulation and secret seductions to get what we want.

"But for you, Tina there shall be unrestricted breeding; for now. You...your male template belonged to a fraternity; think of it; Forty virile young studs to pound your womb with their rods, fill you with their seed, and to become Naturalized themselves! Think of them all...."

"Yes....so many...YES!!!" Tina screamed as she thrashed in naked bliss, her new feminine instincts seared her mind with mating urges, the sweat dripped from her new, pendulous breasts as she orgasmed right there; again....just from the thought of them all!

And so she would continue her journey as before, yet totally nude as she drove. But she made worse time, admittedly. It was difficult to drive when you had to stop every five minutes to masturbate your drenching cunt. As Tina caressed her own moistened PornStar body, slickened with sweat and her own girlcum, all in anticipation of the gangbang to come...and cum.... One might be forgiven for believing that the lithe-bodied busty slut had just come from one. The whole House...she would breed with them all! 

**********

"Yes, it is agony I know." Patience said in commiseration with her fellow nun. Sister Francesca had once been an aging, curveless stick of a woman - once her blandly unfeminine figure had made the choice of swearing off men and sex an easy one. But the Gaia Spores had mutated her into a porcelein-skinned sex-pot with hips nearly as wide as car tires, but with a toned athleticism in her upper torso that belied her perky, yet fleshy breasts that bobbed like Eden's forbidden apples.

Almost a week after that fateful flight from Brazil, her invigorated boobs were indeed swinging like ripe fruit, as Francesca squatted on hands and knees atop the linen sheets; moaning with ecstasy at the toe-curling ministrations from the man who was thrusting into her doggie-style.

He was some middle-aged Pakistani who ran the pathetic, one-floor flea-bag motel. But it was inconspicuous enough for their purposes. Francesca cooed at the new freedom, freedom from morality, inhibition, and discrimination. It wasn't that she found the swarthy, balding sleeze-bag attractive, not at all, but it was the sex that mattered now. What an utter slut she was! They all were! But now, came the hardest part!

"I..I'm...cumming....can't...hold back....*RRNNNRR* - " and then the middle-easterner lapsed into his native tongue as his hips jerked, and he pumped a sizzling load of hot jiss deep into the inviting corridor of womanhood that gaped before him. Their lust and sweat mingled as the motel-owner fondled Francesca's now magnificent Double-D's. Empathically, she sensed his regret - this had been the best night of his life, the sex itself, the ravishing beauty of the gorgeous, nude sirens who offered a novel way to pay for a night's refuge. He was disappointed, because he knew that by jetting his essence into her, the fun was ending. 

"Tighten...Tighten yourself...hold it in...do not release...." But Patience was not talking to the balding male, but rather to Francesca, her super-model face straining. "We know you want to, you want to release the spores, now bonded to the man's sperm, but don't! Don't release them yet...hold them within you...let them...mature..."

Patience herself now sported a swollen, rounded, pregnant belly, which seemed to quiver slightly, as if she were in her ninth month, and ready for labor.

"Don't transform this one...keep his bonded seed, and...watch...what...*UURNNN*" Patience could not finish, her time had come - the sperm she had kept was nearing full maturation, and she spread herself upon the bed near the headboard, her legs wide in anticipation of the life to come.

A woman with a classically-elegant face and a wild mane of curly red hair rose from the floor, casting off her flowery bathrobe as she grunted. Once, this one had been one of their fellow guests at this establishment, a frumpy has-been of a woman who had come to pound upon the door to demand that the slut-nuns quiet down their licentious couplings, which had awakened anyone within earshot.

But a lunge from Dylsia, and a quick jet of transformative milk from a proferred nipple had changed her tune. No longer obese and reeking of cigar smoke, now their neighbour had the same impossibly youthful and voluptuous figure as the rest - but she was still caught up in the journey through Natural History, and the accompanying eleven orgasms.

Patience thrashed, as womb released....quivering with sweat, tension, and lust, she gave birth...

But not to live young, rather there issued forth a host of glittering, feathery pods; like the airborne seeds of dandelions, but with a rainbow irridescence. Logical, in a sense. Dylsia helpfully opened the window to allow hundreds...no...probably thousands of diaphanous, floating seeds to escape into the night.

"The purpose..." Patience grunted through the contractions. "Is two-fold...*NNRRNT*... First, we will be undone, discovered.....too quickly....if everyone we meet....transforms into a gorgeous....nymphomaniac....Second...*NAHH*" And she birthed yet more glittering, feathery seeds. "Whatever happens, the original organism - the jungle plant that transformed Mother Lisa, now is allowed to spread onto a new continent...The seeds will take root, and grow, and grow - and there will be new women that will encounter them, and they shall be blessed even as Lisa Sorrentino was."

Sister Bellini, an olive-skinned love-goddess fully converted by Gaia crawled over to the thrashing red-head, she thrust a nipple in the woman's mouth, and the size of their breasts was great enough that either woman could suckle the other when intertwined in an instinctive, lesbian embrace. The red-head's full conversion into a Lady of Nature was made evident from the sweetness Bellini drew from her erect teats, proof that the newly-infected woman now had the ability to infect others.

Dylsia stood apart, a tingle running up her spine in voyeuristic pleasure from watching the lesbian coupling, while she contemplated pregnant Patience as she grunted and birthed a load of seeds. But what of her? Her powers told her clearly that she too, was pregnant. But conception had occurred before she'd been converted in the Jungle into a Lady of Nature; her child should have been human. The others, these nuns had all had sex after their transformations. She rubbed her nude belly, and focused....

But she was unsure; she could not divine the nature of her hybrid child. If a boy, what would happen if he were Awakened in the womb? as happened to men that drank her milk but did not have sex. Would he be born with the race-memory of Gaia? Perhaps he would be converted to a female by her own transformation? If female, would she be identical to the other Ladies of Nature? No...likely not; Patience's pregnancy had taken mere minutes, but Dylsia's was progressing much slower. This child should be unlike the other converts, but would she be more or less powerful?

The newest transformee, the neighboring guest arose, shook her thick mass of curly, rust-colored hair; her grey eyes widening with racial memory and instinctive commands.

"H-husband..." The new slut remembered. "He must know the joy!" Her mission clear, she arose nude, a ravishing vision of scultped perfection unrecognizable from the frumpy human she had once been. She opened the door, intent on returning to her own room, and whether she could seduce him or needed to force him, there would be sperm jetting into her already-wet cunt tonight.....so she believed.

Instead, a small metal cannister rolled onto the floor as the door opened. And from the window where Patience's seed-spawn where floating free, there was a harsh, chemical spray. And another burst of caustic mist from the first cannister - Gas! Tear Gas?! Next came a whistling as if from silenced bullets from the openings in the room. 

The Gaians were immediately aware, and Bellini could see a faint flash of rifled muzzles, while Patience noticed a dull-green pair of circles from what seemed to be night-vision goggles. It was some covert strike-team, armed to the teeth and as black-clad as ink at midnight. Before the fighting began in earnest, Patience was genuinely surprised that their activities had been noticed so soon.

**********

They came at night; clad all in black. Swathed and concealed for stealth and anonymity. Their weapons were silenced, their movements sure from rigorous drills and simulations.

Pablo's heart leapt as he noticed them; and he hoped that the constant commotion elsewhere on the estate would provide the cover needed to distract his enemies from the appearance of his black-clad comrades arrived to rescue him.

The Trucks had been moving non-stop for 3 hours; loading up teams of the nubile, impossibly voluptuous spawn of the Priestess; conceived through a criminal violation of an ancient trust. The unnatural plant-women had been separated into two groups upon finishing the lesbian mud-wrestling fertility ritual. The Priestess examined each of her busty spawn, scrutinizing and proding them while they had stood at attention. Each healthy daughter was separated into one of two groups. The first were given beauty treatments, dressed in richly lavish gowns of silk, rhinestone and other rich materials, and sent on trucks heading north; obviously to seduce other wealthy power brokers that Marcos had had dealings with in the past.




Enter the Amazon Book 4



The second group was dressed in black leather, fishnet stockings, body-piercings and halter tops, then loaded into trucks heading south towards the docks, slums, and crime-infested dives of Brasilia.

Neither was happy about the arrangement. It wasn't the assignments each daughter-slut had been given; but rather the fact that they were ordered to wear clothing. They chaffed and raged at the artificial confinement of their generous bosoms and throbbing cunts; as if the thought of concealing their feminine charms was the deepest insult imagineable. They wanted - no *needed* to be naked.

The Priestess, clad in a golden robe that opened in the front to reveal her own treasures somehow managed to keep order. She did not speak to them, but somehow, through non-verbal cues and glances, she was able to defuse hostility and force compliance in a way that Pablo did not immediately understand. It was like...like she was....linked to them? As if their minds were...connected in a way that should not have been possible. All the slut-spawn, they also seemed able to contact each other this way, without words or sound. It seemed....seemed almost as if these plant-spawned abominations of womanhood were all part of some great web of life, or somesuch.

In the end, they each accepted their roles to play; half to rut away upon the soon-to-be-rigid cocks of the wealthy and connected, the others to impale themselves upon the manmeat of the poor and desperate. The Priestess meant to paralyze society on all levels!

But perhaps there was a way to stop it! His allies; others that kept the Trust were here now, and they began to creep towards him, pistols and rifles at the ready.

"PABLO!!" hissed a voice from behind the closed wooden door to the left in this ground-level chamber were the former nature guide was tied up, spread-eagle and pantsless that he might be raped for his sperm.

"They know! Pablo! They know about your escape!" The door opened amidst the clicking and cocking of pistols and rifles from the black-clad men. It was Platina, of course. Nude as ever, she had not been deemed worthy of an Assignment as her sisters were, being the runt of the litter and thus infertile. Indeed, her enormous breasts seemed erotically awkward on her petite frame. But...what was that she had in her hands? A can of gasoline!? A cigarette lighter?

"I...I will help you!" She declared, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. The gasoline had already been soaked into the lush, red carpet of the outer hallway, and with a flick, she cast the burning lighter out into middle of the passageway.

The roaring of flames was accompanied by the roaring of two of the fast-breeding abomination-sluts that leapt onto the outer porch and then kicked through the glass of the sliding doors; heedless of sharp fragments. From the robust swell of their womanly hips and their toned, amazonian strength, it was clear that these females were likely as dangerous as they were fertile.

A hail of whispering gunshots muffled by silencers ripped into the naked pair, who collapsed onto the porch in a single heap. Platina scampered over to Pablo and embraced him protectively as the flames roared behind her, sealing off the main route into this room.

"What of this one?" One of the masked men asked dismissively, gesturing to Platina.

"She...she is different...and she has aided us.....she comes with us." And wordlessly, the team hurried away.

"But...but how did they find you?" Platina whispered as she clutched Pablo around the shoulders while he carried her.

"Heh; the Priestess is so arrogant, so confident in her powers, that she forgot to check me for tracking devices!" He nodded to one of his shirt pockets that the females had not bothered to strip from him. "For explorers in the deep jungle, they can be helpful when you risk becoming lost.

" But what the Traitor doesn't know, is that there are others who kept the Trust, and we know a way to strike out against her!"

**********

Back on the porch, the two she-spawn that had been felled by the gunfire began to quiver. The clear fluid that seeped from their wounds began to re-absorb, and the deep bullet holes themselves began to contract; flesh flowing back into place, knitting and mending itself with no more difficulty than water flowing to keep level. Seconds after the process started, sleek bellies and bosomy chests where as pristine and unblemished as if the shots never happened.

Grunting, sweating, the pair also began to cough, and one of them expelled six blunted leaden slugs, while her companion similarly coughed up nine spent bullets.

Both reclined on the ground, arching their backs as their skin drenched with sweat; Their chests shimmied while bosoms quivered; the already DD-cup mounds each possessed throbbed and began an gentle swell outwards and upwards of at least three inches in five seconds, while their pussies began to drench. Faces contorted while lurid sensations bombarded them.

"Mistake..." one of the dark-haired lovelies hissed.

"Attack us....and our desire...our fertility...only increases!" sneered the other gorgeous abomination, as she teased her throbbing clit in the dim twilight.



Enter the Amazon



Lisa gently removed a scampering beetle from the next segment of the engraved story, which showed a more complex drawing. People lined up in two rows, five male-figures, and five females. Some of the females were clearly pregnant, with round curves over their abdomens. Yet in the row below that, there were only women, half of them with the representation for a pregnant belly. The other women were drawn taller, but did not seem with child. What was happening? What could it really mean? Below it was only that mysterious script that Lisa had no hope of reading.

Brushing aside a wide leaf, the Professor turned her gaze to a much larger drawing, occupying the entire width of the linear rock. This was a village scene apparently, from the rounded curves on the ground probably depicting huts or hovels. It took a few moments to fully absorb all the action represented.

First, in the village where the males and females joining in Missionary sex as before, yet there were also more females, arms waving above them in...distress? In a flash, Lisa realized that there were definitely two separate...classes of women carved into the rock; Those with smaller, more normal breasts, and those whose breasts were clearly larger, visibly pronounced and prominent. The rutting pairs only seemed to contain the sexually-exaggerated women, and Lisa studied the engravings carefully.....yes, every woman having sex in the village was one of the extra-busty types, like those earlier in the record that had been exposed to the flower-blossom object. 

Careful examination revealed that....no, it was no mistake; some of the women were having sex with each other...two simple figures both with the curved protrusions indicating breasts, going at it 69-style. The majority, however where dominantly straddling stick-like figures with penises. Though the line art on the crude tablet was simple, could Lisa be blamed for the tingling in her breasts; the hardening of her nipples? Surely, the flush of heat creeping into her groin was understandable.

The latter end of the rock depicted a sprawling mural of paleolithic pornography. countless images, taking the place where the text should be, covered the rock, in a dizzying variety of intimate positions. Quite a few Lisa had never seen, nor imagined. Why had the artists gone so overboard with their engraved depictions of sex? It must be to emphasize that what happened was a pandemic orgy like nothing this culture had ever seen before.

But then...the last image, the last scene....Lisa studied the crooked lines carefully...yes, there were several broken and twisted lines in the same places where the huts where before; had there been...destruction? That seemed to be the message. Was this village destroyed by...by sex? Nearby the stunted ruins that might have been the wreakage of huts where groups of the exaggerated women, running and searching....like they were seeking...more men?

Well, this last scene had not a man in sight, only these frenzied, over-sexed nymphos, some of whom were pregnant, yet not all. Carefully studing the engravings, Lisa found that not only where the figures all women, but there were no longer any women with a more normal bust-size. Those that remained all had breasts which....hmm....the Professor tried to extrapolate the depicted sizes with what they would have looked like proportionately, in flesh-and-blood. Certainly bigger than her own, apple-sized endowments neatly contained in her black, elastic athletic bra. If these women lived today, no doubt they would be strippers or porn-stars; with boobs...er....breasts right at the cusp of what should be humanly possible; not the huge, silicon globes of radical plastic surgery, but firm mountains at the upper-most limit of what most men would find attractive. A man probably would be able to just barely encircle these breasts with an outstretched hand; and no doubt those in the etchings had tried just that.

But what happened to these people? No wonder there had never been reports of tribes in this area; this was most likely an extinct culture. This....this...sexual disaster must have scattered them, ended them as a distinct race. Yet, where were the men? What was the full meaning? 

It wouldn't be difficult to arrange transportation for these artifacts; and in less than a month Dr. Sorrentino had no doubts that a team of the most gifted archeologists and linguists the world had to offer would unlock the mystery of the writings.....the warnings? 

But at the beginning, it was apparent that whatever the full story was, it had started with something the Ancients had represented as a flower. And since the artifacts were here, the village might once have been nearby. If so, then there might be a good chance that this strange, terrible blossom might still be blooming amidst the rampant greenery of the deep rainforest.

"Well, this looks like a job for a Paleobotanist if ever there was one!"

**********

Should she go to look for her? Dr. Sorrentino had been gone far longer than Dylsia anticipated; and she didn't take a walkie-talkie! 'Just want to get some fresh air'. The professor had said. Oh well, Dylsia was the student; she shouldn't have to do the nagging. Still, she should leave the tent. She should put some pants on. She should stop masturbating to the memory and photograph of her boyfriend, Eric.

Another reason to worry about the intrepid Paleobotany professor; as far as her loyal graduate student knew, Lisa had no one special in her life, no one like Eric. Eric Cones had been the only thing that had stopped Dylsia from blowing her savings on a breast-enhancement procedure. His confident seduction demonstrated a strong will and firm guidance that she found distinctly manly. Yet he had lifted her spirits with the sort of classic, hopeless romanticism that revealed a tender soul while giving her assurance of her own desireability.

It had been so foolish, such a mistake to think that huge, jiggling boobs larger than grapefruits would give her the completion her life had lacked. She didn't need silicone in her chest, she just needed someone like Eric to make her feel like a woman. And as her fingers glanced over the lips of her hot cunt, sequestered in a mosquito-proof tent, Dylsia reflected the other ways Eric had affirmed her womanhood.

No...no...she had to stop...she couldn't sit here in the tent pleasuring herself, when Sorrentino could have her legs broken in a ravine somewhere. She delayed because....in short, she had overestimated her own resolve. She thought she was more independent than this; the young hispanic didn't believe that women could feel such a deep, sexual need; the tension that men did. Yet both mind and crotch alike seemed to cry out for her chosen mate. Was it the real thing?.....not exactly; she hadn't really thought about making her arrangement with Eric really permanent; really official. She simply craved him, craved the way he made her feel. She would need to experience more of him, spend more time with him, - and with his cock between her sleek, bronzed legs before she could be sure he was...'The One'. 

Unconsciously, Dylsia began to groom and rub her auburn hair; in the past she had always hoped that her colorful cascade of flowing bronze would distract people from the microscopic travesties that her breasts had failed to grow into. And she again began to contemplate some radical change, surgery - drugs - weird herbs, anything to get more curves. As she stood up outside of her tent; it hit her in a flash that her and Dr. Sorrentino were due to meet more students, and other Green Peace activists tomorrow; and....there she was again! Worried about the approval of strangers! How could she invest her self-worth in her bust size; it was silly! Yet subconciously, the shame over her bland figure was always lurking in the back of her mind.

So Dylsia would stroll off into the woods and try to find the Professor; she'd put her superficial insecurities out of her mind...put Eric out of her mind. Damn....she was more...dependent on him that she realized! No one else had ever made her feel desireable, feminine the way he had. She needed that confidence, needed that support more than she realized. But she had to become self-reliant; she had to succeed on her own. Yet somehow, there was a lingering sense that on this journey, here in this fabulous rainforest, Dylsia Jimenez would find a way to change her life forever.

**********

Part 3: The Eleventh Orgasm

The drawings on the stone tablets had been rather crude, yet almost by instinct Lisa had recognized the plant when she saw it. Largely because she'd never seen anything else like it.

"The stem of the flower is over a meter and half in length, yet does not exhibit the cellulose structure that would create a wooden texture; unusualy in a plant this size..." She felt herself lapsing into 'lecture mode', in fascination with the vast blossom; which she'd been observing, touching and analyzing for....several minutes now. The head of the flower had an enormity that matched the great size of its stem, the only flower she'd ever seen close to this size was a blossom that smelled of rotting flesh and attracted flies to pollinate it.

Yet this botanical wonder could not have been more different in aesthetics. An aromatic cornucopia teased her senses, and more than once the otherwise business-like scientist had to stifle the urge to bury her face in the large, hub-cap sized flower. She suspected that it contained unusual chemical properties in addition to its radiant color. The loose, rippling petals cascaded from the base of the stalk in a scarlet fountain with the richness of liquid silk. No...not quite scarlet, in the right light it seemed to shimmer with a violet irridescence....yet when she circled the plant again to the portion where the scant rays of sunlight slipped through the lush canopy; there seemed to be flecks of gold upon the modified leaves of the flower. Dr. Sorrentino nodded to herself, moving her face nearer to the plant as she formulated a hypothesis.

"Yes...the regional natives that carved the marble blocks likely encountered this flower, and most likely ground it up or extracted juices from it to use in some shamanistic ritual; I suspect the species has hallucinogenic properties; which might explain the apparent behavior of the ancient villagers." Then she wondered whether some stray molecule in the plant could have true aphrodisiac properties. For centuries, mankind had sought after such drugs; the results being little more than snake-oil trickery. Yet....here, amidst this ocean of greenery, there were more unknown species than anywhere else on Earth. Man had not yet explored half of the biological marvels of the Amazon. Close examination of the plant was not likely to be risky, Lisa concluded. Just don't eat it, smoke it, or use it in any rituals.

"Unusual...the flower has all the anatomical traits expected...except I can see no evidence of an androecium. Hmm...the pistil is present, including stigma....style....and a swollen body corresponding with the ovary...Female reproductive center is disproportionately large; even taking into account the greater comparative size of this flower. And yet there appears to be no stamen." Lisa brushed a velvety petal to get a closer look at the pointed bulb jutting from the center of the blossom. 

"The species appears to possess...exaggerated female organs; yet unlike other angiosperms there does not seem to be any trace of the normal male organs. Could the anther of the plant be....reduced in size? Or perhaps this species is something like the Gingko tree; with discrete male and female plants. Hmph- an unprecedented adaptation for a flower. Perhaps a more detailed examination of the pistil will reveal more..." That was when the female organs of the plant began to quickly, rapidly swell.

**********

They still did not believe. Even though the young students had claimed to be defenders of nature, interested in protecting the Rainforest; Pablo could sense that they humored his claims. He was their Native Guide! Yet even these young students could not believe the full truth! But Pablo would not be angry; he would simply prove them wrong. When the students completed their journey at the end of the week to the site of the Diamond Miners, to begin their protests, the case of Influenza two of the girls had been infected with would be cured!

Pablo was a small, unassuming figure in his khaki safari-style jungle gear; yet he knew secrets, tricks, and keys to navigation and survival in the great Amazon that had yet to be matched. It would not be far; he had learned just recently of where the plants where that could cure this particular range of diseases that some of the students had begun to suffer from. Even after all his years in the wilds, there was always more to know, more to learn. The plant that might help them was close...very close within the sweeping panorama of brilliant vegetation. Pablo stooped down to examine the wild herbs and ferns. Close now....close to....the hem of a dress.

The woman was just tall enough to seem healthy, yet the comfortable shape of her voluptuous form would fit neatly within the embrace of most men on the planet. Her robes were green and gold, with sun-like emblems and embroided golden shapes that resembled spiders. The robe was open in the front, revealing a glistening body of amber-hued curves and feminine slopes, from the buxom swell of breasts ripe with the fertile energy of the prime years of reproductive vigor. Down towards the luscious terrain of her navel; and the dark thatch of her naked womanhood that seemed to radiate heat. Pablo's gaze lingered for several moments too long before raising his brown eyes to meet the haughty, heart-shaped face of a woman as eerily beautiful as she was vaguely familiar.

"Ahh, greetings Priestess. I did not realize that there had been a new acolyte." 

"You are correct....and incorrect at once, dear Pablo." The two spoke in a lilting, sing-song tongue that was ancient before the voyage of Columbus; a secret language known only to a literal handful of select individuals. She...she had called Pablo by name...a new Acolyte? Suspicious, Pablo's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the strangely-clad young woman. Her rose-petal lips grew into a wry grin with a mischevious flavor as the native guide's expression changed from curiosity, to suspicion, to stunned recognition.

"NO...NO!! It IS you!" Pablo's lips quivered as he shrieked.

"Who else, Pablo; who would it be besides me?"

"But...your face...your body...." the small and wiry guide jerked backwards as if a viper were about to strike. "So young...so...erotic....It must mean...you have violated the Trust!" The woman of forbidden youth turned and spat.

"Damn the Ancients and their fears! I have guarded the Sanctum for the majority of my life..." Her green, green eyes grew wistful. "Decades before you were born, Pablo I was guarding and watching. I am too old to even remember my full count of years....after all this time...all these decades... It was MY turn!" Her voice rose in pitch and volume; and perky breasts that jutted forward jiggled as the Priestess raised her fist. "Now...near the end of what would be my natural life, I deserve a reward. I deserve the benefits of all that I have protected!" But the young guide shook his head in disbelief.

"By breaking the Trust; you have undone all the good you have accomplished through those long years! Now, you have become your own enemy!"

"I have become free!" countered the smooth-skinned siren that could not have been older than twenty-five. "I alone deserve to reap the rewards for my service! I'll not wither away; I'll not die the Hag's death! I have gained more than just my youth, I have a face and flesh more sublimely beautiful than I ever did! Now it is my turn to make men beg! Even you, Pablo! You claim only higher motives; yet you are a man like all the rest, even now you hunger to press your body against me!" Her gaze burned into him with a fiery blend of lust and cruelty. Pablo knew then that words would avail him nothing; he also knew that the knife and pistol he carried would avail him less. He understood all too well what the Priestess had become. The temptation she had been under for all those years was too much. Really, it was just a matter of time before one of the women broke their vows and became the creature of impossible beauty that stood before the wilderness tracker.

So Pablo ran. He turned and pumped his legs as fast as he could, then he ran just a bit faster. He was forced to stop short as he rounded a tree - and nearly collided with the gorgeous, treacherous woman who was far, far too young for her years. How did she do it? How had she gotten in front of him? Was she that fast, that powerful?

"You know there can be no escape, dear one. The hungers of my flesh have grown...more powerful than I dared imagine! My appetites for men and sex...." she shuddered a moment in awe. "I never imagined a sensation could be so strong! There is but one way this will end, Pablo. You know better than to try and fight me; you have seen that you cannot escape. With my new powers...I could force you..." a delicate finger brushed his trembling chin.

"But it will be so much better for you to come to me." And he could smell her then, he could smell the crushing pall of her sugary musk wafting from her body invisibly. How long could Pablo resist the lightning-waves of searing libido that were being kindled within him? The problem was not only from her nude and moist flesh, but the chemical influence of this potent aroma just as much. A finger slipped inside her bush, inside the hot and wet cavern of femininity that seemed to part wide to welcome any intruder. 

"First...you will indeed lick my cunt! My musks will burn in your brain until you relent. Then, at last you will drink the nectar from these glorious teats!" She jiggled each soft breast experimentally. "And then, only when you are most tortured by desire; only when the flames of your lust threaten to choke out all reason, all intelligence, only then will you impale my womb with your manmeat! And soon - so very soon you will cum! You will cum inside me and fill me with your impregnanting manseed!"

"No! NO!! You wouldn't go that far?! I...I understand the desire to be young again but....after breaking the trust...to allow a man to impregnate you? Think of what it could mean!" Pablo had to think fast; perhaps with quick wits he could outsmart his seductive captor.

"If you begin to spread, in this day and age, the government will hunt you with bombs, and guns, and rockets; once the government understands who....what you have become, they will punish the Rainforest with their weapons to wipe out the Sanctuary!

"And should the seeds perish; there will be nothing, NOTHING to stop the Florfemea! What if the Florfemea should rise again? And the soldiers are already at war with you, purging any trace of what you were protecting! What is to be done should the Femea return?"

"You make a wise case, Pablo. But you forget who you speak to; as if the Florfemea Gynus is a threat to me! Still, the soldiers would be a nuisance, and that is why my first stop will be Brasilia; now that all men will crave me; lust after me, I may as well start with the politicians.

"After you, Pablo. After you cum inside my womb, after you vent your manseed within me." The errant Priestess gripped Pablo's wrist, placing his calloused palm in the soft valley right between the impressive cleavage of her soft bosom. 

"Feel my body, take in my musk, my sexual essence through your every pore. To fight me....you must fight yourself...your own manhood. Yes....you weaken, Pablo. You are straining to resist the musks; the pleasure of my touch. Yes...on your knees Pablo, your hunger for my sex is almost as great as is mine for yours!" And Pablo found he could no longer stop himself from gazing with wanton yearning at her fragrant cunt. He knew full well who and what she was; the Guide appreciated the implications of what she'd done when she'd broken the Trust. Yet he could feel the sharp pangs of his own arousal growing stronger with each second! He moaned with yearning as the sharp, sweet ache tortured his flesh from within. The urge, the demand to couple with her naked body became a physical sensation.




Enter the Amazon



Pablo's eyes closed as his guts twisted with the enormity of his lust. He felt he was trapped now; his body wanted so badly to entwine himself with her sweat-laced, erotic nudity that all responsibility and obligation seemed to melt away.

His mind was failing, he knew that it was so important to resist the intense attraction of this impossibly youthful sex-bomb. The tension within his mind and body burned more fiercely. She seemed to have shed her priestly robes; and now stood nude and glistening before him, thrusting out her ample, mammalian assets into the air and into Pablo's dreams.

No....there was something wrong here...desperately wrong with her...and with him. As the pheromones clouded his mind, memory and willpower seemed to fade away. No...he should not put his hands upon the soft hemispheres of her shapely ass. He should not be licking and kissing her thighs. This...was wrong....he couldn't remember how...or why....but somehow, this delicious female did not have the right to be so sexually succulent. It was a crime to run his hands over the firm tautness of the fit muscles over her belly. And her cunt! No...no Pablo...you must not look upon her cunt....you must not sniff her crotch like a dog in heat! He...he could no longer remember why, but it was important not to bury his nose in her naked bush. But whatever he did, A dim part of Pablo's mind still whispered to him that above all else, he must not lick her vagina! He must not taste her womanhood! Cunt....do not lick it! Do not taste it!

He did not give in, he never surrendered to her charms. But when the corrupted Priestess began to emit a sensual purr that was as lustful as it was triumphant, Pablo knew he could not resist. His rational mind faded in and out. He knew he had begun to lick her pussy; to savor the juices of her female arousal. Yet his powers of reason where not sufficient to save him. He didn't remember the exact moment where he had failed, yet a faint echo of his intelligence told him that since he had tasted her girl-juice, all hope was lost. He could not stop licking, sucking, slurping her vagina, fondling her hard clit. And the steady stream of her elixir was like nothing so much as honey.

There was no hope now; after tasting her cunt Pablo knew in a briefly lucid moment that he would never again be able to resist her. Each lap of his agile tongue into the hot folds of her femalia delivered more of that horrible, intoxicating attractant. By drinking in the wetness of her pussy, he was damning himself. And soon, soon she would allow him to shoot his seed into her womb; knowing full well the dire consequences. Already, the nature guide's traitorous penis had begun to harden more than he had believed possible. It would not be long know...they were close...so close....

**********

She tried to remember. It was important to remember what happened. First step.....don't think about the pleasure...don't think about the waves of crushing bliss that overpowered her mind and body...."

"First.....what is your name?...M-my name...L-Lisa Sorrentino...." The pleasure was building! Soon, she would experience another of the explosive, forced orgasms. The orgasms that overwhelmed her like a velvet fist. With each climax, she forgot all but the immense joy of sensual delight. Before the next wave; Lisa struggled to revive her rational mind and analyze what had happened to her.

The flower; that was it. As she had gently touched the over-sized pistil of the mysterious flower, the flower with the exaggerated female organs, and the lack of male organs that most flowers would possess. That was it.....it had sprayed her, spurted her with some form of defensive chemical, some intoxicant.....yet...the poison that sprayed her face was not bitter, it was like sweetened honeysuckle laced with cinnamon. There was no pain, no anguish....it was like...like the plant had blasted her with a pleasure toxin. How many orgasms had there been? Nine? Ten? 

It was as if ten-thousand skilled lovers had assaulted her at once. While every inch of her skin was seething with heightened sensation, her dripping pussy had become a firestorm of throbbing eroticism. No! Don't dwell on the pleasure! That would only make the orgasms come faster! Think...examine...study....

Lisa examined herself; her skin seemed moist with some odd, fragrant oil. She tried to ignore the swelling, teasing tension in her breasts; her breas- boobs felt too good; thinking about the tingling delight from her over-sensitive nipples. Think...yes, there was a sweet nectar that had sprayed her face and chest. It must be some revolutionary poison that incapacitated with delight instead of pain. On her tanned arm, she noticed small, green spheres, dozens of them.

"Ahh...what would be...*GRUNT* in the best interests of the plant? *NYAHH*" She steeled herself against the erotic onslaught, clinging to reason, to intellect. "Plants use....other creatures...animals....as vectors....for pollinaton....these....green microspores....must have....reproductive function...*RHAAAH!*" Lisa brushed her face, the spores were tiny but she could just barely feel them.

"But...this plant....exaggerated female organs....could these be....ovum? Some new spore? Ehh....No....no they can't be spores....or ovum...they're absorbing into my skin....nnnh...*AUUUHHN!* No plant spore will do that." But before she could come up with an alternative explanation, the eleventh orgasm was fully upon her; seizing her will and drowning her mind in an ocean of carnal surrender.

But that was when her mind exploded. Suddenly, her awareness, her perception, her comprehension was widened by a dream-like altered state of mind in which her very soul seemed to be flying. Even though Lisa Sorrentino was lying on the moist, jungle soil in a sweating heap, her mind and sensed seemed to be traveling the world, experiencing life through the eyes of every other living thing. She was the Cycad bush, felt all that the plant felt - but she was also the velvet worm crawling upon a broad leaf - she was the poison-arrow frog hopping through the underbrush in search of insects.

And more....she was the seagull searching for tasty mollusks; the Golden Plover on an epic migratory flight to the Antarctic. An ostrich running from a cheetah... she was the President of the United States; then a stripper/prostitute flaunting her charms in an El Paso tittie bar....she was a Great White shark in the ocean depths. A tube-worm probing for nutrients near the hot vents of a mid-ocean rift...and more...more...the past....Lisa could see; feel the Earth's remote past.

She was a saber-toothed tiger caught in a tar-pit, a giant ground sloth eating leaves....further....a pteranodon snatching a fish; an allosaurus snatching a pteranodon; further...deeper....She was a 12-foot long amphibian carnivore eating a dragonfly with a 3 foot wingspan...deeper....a trilobite mating with another of its kind in a primordial ocean....backwards...backwards....she was all of them, at once, and they were speaking; not in words but in strong, emotional impressions that were as clear to her as though etched in stone. She knew...she could see the meaning....see the purpose now....

Lisa tore angrily at the athletic bra that encased breasts which throbbed, swelled, and rose up with preternatural fecundity. She had to return to nature, cast off the hateful conventions of clothing and propriety. She could feel her flesh changing, flowing. Her sexual centers had become seething cauldrons of ever mounting passion. She arched her back and grunted as her chest jutted forward; as though larger, riper breasts were attempting to push aside her own normal C-cups. Inevitably, great mams as large as the ripest grapefruit expanded into fullness upon her chest as the last strap of the needless fabric was torn aside. Her cargo-pants where the worst. Lisa thrashed violently to rid herself of pants and panties; her sex must be free! She must not, if at all possible confine her womanhood in garments ever again!

She stopped short as she was kicking away the last of her pants; her socks. There was a pulsing, tight pressure beneath her....no...it was her ass! Her already shapely butt was rounding and inflating into perfect, voluptuous hemispheres. Unsure what changes might occur next; she writhed naked in the dirt; allowing her body and mind to morph and mutate; shifting into whatever form was her destiny. She placed a hand into her engorged, enlivened pussy; to easily masturbate her sex that dripped with the juices of arousal.

It was clear to her now; at last! Lisa now had the ability to contact a global super-mind; an over-instinct. It was a half-mystical reality in which all living things, and those once living all shared whether they realized it or not. Change, it told her. End the pollution, the consumption, the imbalance. She must smash the dead things; destroy that which was not green and red and growing. She must bring back a world of flesh and feeling, closer to nature. She must dominate the human race; which was at once the problem and the solution. She had been given a body that would prove intensely attractive to human males; and she would use the most basic of all instincts to bring down the threatening, unnatural civilizations that wounded the planet.

There was a sharp, powerful hiss directly in her ear. Moving with a speed she didn't know she possessed, Lisa found herself in the upper bough of a thrity-foot tree in less time than it took to say it. What the! How had she moved so fast? She had just covered forty feet of distance, most of it up a tree trunk with such ease that she was not even breathing hard! And what had been that noise? Eyes sharper than what she'd possessed as an eighteen-year old studied the nearby bushes. A small, non-poisonous black snake was slithering through nervously. Its hiss had been so loud, so clear! All the jungle sounds where magnified enormously now; and the creature that had been Lisa marveled at the rich bounty of sound and sensation that now surrounded her.

She exulted in her toned physique glistening with a warm, fragrant oil from her her engorged, DD-cup boobs to her chiseled abdomen towards the sleek power of her statuesque legs. Naked, strong, free....as she should be. Others...she must give her gift to others! Immediately, she though of all the men in her life who were even modestly attractive. A flaming euphoria tingled inside her as a roaring lust arose in her mind and flesh. She suddenly felt an overpowering need to mate with every man, any man with a hard cock! Lisa almost fell from her perch as her consciousness reeled with the fervent craving to couple. The once-repellent notion of the thousands of lovers she would soon take sent an electric thrill boiling through her blood. In shock over her new attitudes, she clenched her moist pussy as though covering it would limit her licentious cravings. Lisa felt what can only be described as a weight of the unborn; as if countless multitudes of individuals depended upon her for their births and lives, it was as if the compounded reproductive instincts of an entire species were gathering inside her sex organs. And she dared not disappoint. 

To fulfill her new, salacious mission, she would dedicate herself towards enticing as many men as possible to orgasm inside her womb. It was a rampant, uncontrollable estrus that by its very nature could never be satisfied....but that didn't mean she wouldn't have fun trying! Men....sex....strange; the Over-Instinct that she had merged with gave her the sense that she must seek out legions of men because once a man had spurted himself inside her pussy; she knew he would never be able to do so again. How odd? What did that mean? She felt, sensed, knew it to be the truth, but why? It didn't matter; she would trust her instinct. 

How silly it seemed to conduct useless protest marches against despoilers when she now had a far more direct means of causing change. First, she would collect Dylsia. Then, they would return home. Easily, the she-creature that had been Lisa Sorrentino performed a twenty-foot long standing leap to a nearby tree limb while barely needing to squat down. Such feats were simply normal to her now, in this new enlightened, empowered, eroticized form. Covering distances worthy of an Olympic pole-vault with quick ease, she sniffed the air as she traveled until she could trace the scent of her young graduate student. 

**********

Part 4: Booby Trap

The attack was as swift as if was unexpected; Dylsia never saw, never suspected the presence of the beast which pounced. Strange, she thought as she was sent tumbling through the dirt from the impact, the reports she'd read had not indicated and jaguars or other large predators in this particular region. Yet here she was, flat on her back, auburn-bronze hair tangled around her elegant face while pinned to the ground by a creature of awesome stealth and incredible strength. 

"Nnnnahhh....." odd; the moan of this beast sounded almost human; like a woman. But then, there were hands upon her, strong hand that tugged upon her denim vest and undershirt. She was pinned, and felt herself being unceremoniously stripped! For now, it was all the embattled Grad student could do to grunt with dismay as the clothing on her upper body was torn asunder with an audible pop. That was tough denim! What on Earth lived around here that could be strong enough to - 

*SHRRRRIPT* 

Apparently, something that was also powerful enough to rip her pants to shreds in one tug! Damn, that was her underwear too! Dylsia's young body was pressed into the dirt, with no garments besides her hiking boots. Think, girl! Think of something! What could this be? Was she about to get eaten? The only creature she could think of that might be capable of this was some large Silverback gorilla; yet they should have been too far south to encounter such a primate! But out of all the creatures of this size with opposable thumbs, only an enraged gorilla could be strong enough to.... - no...couldn't be....it certainly was no gorilla. 

Whatever was pressing her into the dirt, it had no body hair to speak of; just slippery, hot skin. Nothing like the fur an ape would have. Was it...a man? Maybe, but a man should still have more hair than this, and she felt no penis between the muscled legs of her captor. Instead, she felt - 

"UNHH! What the f- " Impossible! Yet there she was. Dylsia had been flipped over, to lie on her back, facing her tormentor. It was no ape, no man, she was all woman. And a more spectacular woman the young latina had never seen. 

This she-devil straddling Dylsia had the toned and sculpted physique of a woman in peak physical condition who could not decide whether to be a star fitness model or a triple-X porn queen. Those bobbing, ripe, tear-drop shaped boobs seemed fit only for the most salacious entertainment. It was not only the shady color of her wide aureolas, each close to the diameter of a drinking glass, nor was it the engorged girth of the mams themselves, though each could easily have contained the entire volume of Dylsia's Mountain Spring drinking water bottles, no...there seemed to be a subtle, perverse innuendo about each breast, as though with unspoken language the hooters were whispering promises of libidinous indulgence. 

How was Dylsia to know whether this sultry bitch aspired to be an athlete or whore? A model or stripper? She seemed ripe for any profession that admired female beauty. And from the feel of the wetness on her attacker's skin, the glistening sheen reflected in the diffuse light peeking through the jungle canopy; Dylsia concluded that perhaps this woman practiced oil-wrestling while trying to decide whether she should make a living on the Runway, or on her back. 

But the most incredible, most awesome quality was her face; it was a face much like that of....of Lisa? Dr. Sorrentino? Well, like Lisa Sorrentino if her professor had spent five hours in a World-Class beauty salon, perhaps. The natural shading and soft curves of her eyes and face had an ethereal grace that should only be possible under the care of a premium beautician. Certainly, not here in the jungle. Why had Dylsia not noticed the face immediately? In a flash, she realized that she too, had fallen for the trap that so easily embarassed men; her attention had been riveted...fixated upon these spectacular tits. But unlike a man; she yearned not to fondle, but to possess. Her jealous-lust was even stronger than a man's carnal lust! Why could she not have been granted breasts of such bounty!? 

"D-Dr. Sorremmphfff*!" She murmured, as the objects of her obsession were thrust into her mouth, nipple past her open lips. 

"Don't struggle; it'll be over soon." Assured the sex-creature that had once been Lisa. "It will be soooo much more pleasurable if you don't fight it." But how could Dylsia fight? How could she resist the sublime current of liquid delight pumping into her mouth in hot jets of sugary bliss? No, it was not milk that came from Lisa's breasts; it was much like a sweeter, richer form of honeysuckle nectar with a mollasses-like undercurrent of flavor. How could the Grad student fight against the narcotic wave that came next? How could she repel the insinuative euphoria that burned in her blood, and pickled her brain? No, she would not fight. The best the young latina could manage were a few gyrating thrusts of pure pleasure.

Dr. Sorrentino had been her teacher and superior in academic matters, and Dylsia Jimenez could not help but trust her implicitly; and now....in this new....condition, the younger woman felt an instinctive urge to yield, to submit herself to the clearly dominant female. The rational, human side of her brain was scared, concerned. But the creature, the bitch within her succumbed to a form of herd instinct, and the coppery-haired girl instantly accepted Sorrentino as her teacher and superior in this new area, as well. But soon enough, Reason too had to surrender; Lisa was stronger, faster, immesurably sexier. And all struggle ceased as the girl released herself into complete acceptance of whatever her Professor was doing, whatever her Professor had become. 

The two females writhed naked on the moist soil of the forest floor, the dark-haired wildwoman on top suckling the younger, and soon began to stroke her head and soothe any lingering fears. 

"Yes...that's it....good....accept it....yes...You'll feel them soon; you'll feel all the voices, all the fears and feelings of everything alive on the planet." The defeated Grad student voiced a scarcely audible grunt as she opened wide her mouth to accept yet more of the soft, nectar-releasing breast. "The orgasms will start within seconds....yes! I felt it! That was your first! The hormones in the nectar are making you receptive....yes....as the spores, the ovum replicate inside your tissues, there will be an intense erogenous stimulation. And each sexual climax will permit the spores to grow faster." Lisa held Dylsia tightly as the girl bucked and thrashed in ecstasy. In moments, the transforming student disengaged from the firm nipple, already having consumed far more than the needed dose. 

The thing that had emerged from the mind and body of Lisa Sorrentino smiled with a mother's pride as she beheld the changes, as she beheld the descent of her protege into a grunting, lust-drugged state of semi-conscious animal rut. Just as Lisa had been. She knew that the girl had been sensitive about her small, flat breasts, and it would be interesting to see how...ooh, that was her fourth orgasm...it would be interesting to see how long it would take before the expansion of the girl's boobs came to match her own. Already, the tense nips had swollen past the size of grapes, and as her nipples continued to harden and lengthen, mounds not unlike strawberries began to thrust upwards into view. 




Enter the Amazon



The latina's golden-brown peaks began to throb intensely, as her fourth orgasm began to wind down amidst a flushed face, hoarse breathing, and an increased wetness as her lower lips readied themselves for something, anything male. But the sexual explosions would continue; the infectious agency ravaging her cells would send her into heights of rampant ecstasy that no human mind should be allowed to experience. But Lisa, and soon Dylsia would be so much more than human, even as the girl's blossoming breasts were now attaining a more noticeable girth as they rounded out into forms of like size to a small tangerine sliced in half. 

But even in her stupor of lust, passing in and out of consciousness as the magnitude of the sensual onslaught battered her brain, Dylsia was still able to see, feel, and observe for brief instances the voluptuous expansion occuring upon her chest. In seconds, she could behold the rising peaks of boobflesh emerging into her field of view like inflating water balloons, bigger...beautiful.... 

"B-boobs....bigger..." she breathed. 

"You will be magnificent!" assured Lisa, but her student didn't hear her, having passed out again from the vice of impossible pleasure that had seized her mind and flesh. Holding her naked, sweaty, transforming student, the New Lisa decided to play a game; as the rampant mountains of envigorated titflesh widened and lengthened, Lisa squashed them with her own impressive mounds. She reveled in the feverish heat on the naked skin of her young captive as their nude, glistening forms wallowed together in the dirt. She held down Dylsia's boobs with her own chest, felt the growth, felt the swelling juggs pressing, pushing against her intimately, both breasts beginning to widen outwards to the sides from the pressure - before rising up to release them. The golden-brown boobs on the students chest rippled and jiggled, finally settling into the size of soft, pliant baseballs. 

"Wh-wha..." Another brief moment of consciousness as Dylsia's brain grappled with the orgasms. 

"Be silent, and let the Change run its course." commanded New Lisa, who promptly released another spurt of nectar into the girl's gaping mouth. That calmed her down. Breasts...nipples...squeezing, pressing, the younger pair of mammaries vying for dominance. 

"One....Two....." Each second-and-a-half, there was another deep pulse from the enlarging baby-feeders as both boobs struggled against their opposites. "Three....Four.....RELEASE!" Impressive! The jiggling globes were now slightly wider than coffee-cup coasters, and there were...yes...four...almost five inches of height...the student was now easily a D-cup, and less than an hour ago, she hadn't even worn a bra! But it was not sufficient; not enough to satisfy Lisa. Her instincts told her what to do next. 


Reversing roles, Lisa now puckered her lips and fastened them onto the ruddy-red, hard nubs that crowned her protege's impressive mammaries. And Lisa sucked, and sucked. She knew that this form of stimulation sent a signal to the brain that could activate the response she wanted. Yes...*SLURP*, *MMPH*, "EYAAAHH!*, *SLMFF*. In between sucks, she ran her tongue in a figure-eight between the aureoles, down into the deepening slopes of cleavage, towards and around the other breast; blowing cool air onto them. Teasing, tugging, tickling....stimulating...until finally.. 

"YES!" There was the tiniest mote of sweetness, a burst of honeysuckle. The ovum-spores had completed the infectious cycle, and Dylsia's now grapefruit-like tits would produce the same intoxicating, infectious nectar. Lisa had to adjust her posture; Dylsia's thighs were becoming so wet, so slick with the lubrication of her own girly-cum that it was difficult to hold onto her legs. 

"And now....when the nectar completes its changes in your brain...you will hear and understand the purpose..." New Lisa propped up New Dylsia's head and stared into her green, green eyes. "All things that live or that once lived leave an impression of their instincts. Soon, you'll begin to feel a super-mind, an Over-instinct with its own will, its own lusts. Just as the human brain is more than just the sum of its nerve-cells, so too is the Over-instinct more than just the emotions of the living things that make it up. We can touch it now, communicate with this Global-entity, and gain abilities and knowledge never seen before!" 

"Wonderful...." began slut-Dylsia as she fondled her porn-worthy, nectar-leaking tits. It was not clear whether her joy was from Lisa's revelation, or from her own incredible endowments. But the rampant slut that had been Lisa Sorrentino was now taking her own advice; the Over-instinct told her what next to do; and she rotated her body, seizing the new slut as firmly as her cum-slicked legs would permit, and buried her face in the girl's throbbing crotch. So too did the newly-spawned sex-fiend extend her tongue to touch the now-accessible folds of her teacher's cunt. 

And so they engulfed each other; mouths devouring the sex of the other in a mandated lesbian orgy with implications more profound than the shared orgasms that exploded within each female moments later. The slippery, gleaming moisture that covered Lisa's olive-tanned skin tasted of mint, while Dylsia's own body oil tasted strongly of vanilla. When thus connected; they could feel one another through the Global Instinct, feel each others thoughts, fears, and dreams. Dylsia knew her teacher's regret over sacrificing her personal life for her career in Paleobotany, and Lisa understood Dylsia's shame over the ridicule she suffered as a young girl over her non-existant tits. With vaginas and mouths connected mutually, the two began to connect on a level never before possible. 

Until finally, Lisa began to detect a feeling of impatience. Dylsia's transformation had been completed minutes ago; inside and out she was every bit the slut, possessed the same drives, abilities, and connection with the Over-instinct. With unspoken words, the student assured her teacher/mother that her task was complete; that Dylsia's humanity was at an end. Well, humanity in the conventional sense. They had both become a new species, and for now their purpose was to breed. They must proliferate themselves whenever, however, possible using any means to do so. Some species lived only to reproduce themselves, and at this point in time, Dylsia felt the same. The drive to find new humans with which to spawn was driving her into a frenzy, and there was nothing to be gained by wasting more time with lesbian sex.

*********

It was a curious instinct; this new drive that both the females felt burning within them. This, urge for breast-play was unlike anything they were used to. It had been over a day since Dylsia was turned, and in that time both females felt engorged and uncomfortable. Their perky, plump mammaries were tight and taut with infectious nectar, and New Dylsia felt her attention fading in and out as she fantasized for a man to grope, fondle, caress her swollen juggs; thrusting from her chest like halves of a soccerball. A man....to touch and tease her nipples! A man...to relieve the pressure. What a precious thing it was, she realized then: The male obsession with the female breast seemed like such a blessing. Her tits were wondrous! Almost any man would crave a touch! The young hispanic had been squeezing, stroking her own naked boobs, imagining that her hands were the hands of a virile teenager unable to control himself. And she felt a twinge of the affirmation and satisfaction such contact would give her. But her nectar! How strange was this new urge; this frantic hunger to tackle someone and force that person to suck your tits! To relieve the pressure! Lisa, she knew felt the same way.

Ahh...up ahead....civilization...of a sort....a clearing with a small tower.... it was...an airfield! Yes....what better way to spread their seed! Lisa grunted as she squatted on the grass, shivering with her need. The urges, the sexual drives seemed stronger in Lisa, as she'd had a longer time since her transformation to build up her lusts. Though both females were consumed with a manic frenzy far beyond mere nymphomania, Lisa's urge for sex with a man was slightly stronger than her need for that man to suck her nectar-gorged tits. It was the reverse for Dylsia.

But nonetheless, as the two females crept naked and slick with moisture onto the manicured grasses, the Over-instinct (which they had come to call Gaia) told them that the Happy Event would change the World. If either female succeeded, (make that when either female succeeded) and persuaded a man to ejaculate into her cunt, then immediately the World would begin to change!

**This is the first part of a story written at the request of a fan. Talk to XXXecil if you have your own vision you'd like realized!**