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Lavender Pt. 01

By: PrevertOne



Eighty degrees, a beautiful summer evening, and Mrs. Roberts is going to take a bath. She spent the day working up a sweat: hoeing, weeding, cutting the grass, clearing the junk from the garage, hauling the trash to the landfill, dusting, sweeping out the cobwebs. All to get dirty for the Bathtub.

Everything was ready. Her kids, Laura and Bobby, were on the other side of the country with their father and the Bitch (her Ex's turn for custody). She had the week to herself. Her four best friends were scattered to the four winds. Barbara, in Connecticut with her parents; Terri, burning her skin in Florida; Bill, off to Paris with his boyfriend; and Marion, who won a trip to Australia.

Before each of them left, Betty gave explicit instructions. Over the next week, they were not to call her...for anything...ever - "If there's a nuclear war, major epidemic, massive meteor strike, the Rapture - you-do-not-call!" Her friends understood; they knew how Betty loved that Bathtub. 

Her fetish was common knowledge. Betty was an aquaphile; she loved the feel of water on her bare skin. She practiced discretion in public but at private swim parties, in her (ex) husband's presence and close (open-minded) friends, she swam nude. She loved baths and showers, the water cascading on her body. Her friends were ok with it; everyone has their proclivities. Laura and Bobby were conceived in a bathtub and swimming pool, respectively.

Betty disconnected the phone and left the cell in the guest room...at the other end of the house...under the mattress...with the door locked. All the doors and windows, with one exception, were locked. Betty lived in a secure house. High walls around the garden and backyard reduced the danger of intruders.

Betty wasn't worried; the neighborhood was safe, three years since the last burglary. The only person who might pose a problem was Derrick, Bobby's friend from next door. She suspected him of spying on her with his binoculars (not that she minded too much, she had a touch of exhibitionism).

His parents' attic was a good vantage point; it faced the garden and a person could see over the wall. She knew Derrick had the hots for her (and while common sense and social mores prevented her from overtly reciprocating, she couldn't resist a subtle flirt here and there, "But really, he's way too young."). Betty remembered Derrick was in summer camp and his parents were in Hawaii. In fact, most of the neighborhood was on vacation. In the summer, everyone in the neighborhood went somewhere else.

One look at the bathroom revealed why Betty took such deliberate care to prepare for her bath. Designed by her ex-husband, Carl Roberts Roberts, known professionally as C.R. Roberts, architect and interior designer, the bathroom was a marvel; inspired by the paintings of Maxfield Parrish, built of brick, wood, and clay. 

Betty thought Carl built it as a wedding present; twenty years of a bad marriage taught her it was built for his ego. Plants and hanging vines were set around the sink and ceiling, and in vases around the room. The entire west wall was a bifolded double French door. In the winter, it was closed; sunlight came through the windows to nourish the plants and vines. In the summer, the doors were folded back, opening the bathroom to the garden. Automatic sprinklers, set on timers, made sure the plants were watered regularly. The bathroom faced west so the setting sun cast a rosy glow, blending with the earthy tones of the room. Evening was Betty's favorite time.

The neighborhood is all but deserted. The house is sealed, except for the garden doors; Betty's incommunicado for the week. The Bathtub is filling with water, just above warm, just under hot. The sun is setting on a warm evening, Debussy on the speakers (Prelude To The Afternoon of a Faun); time for her bath.

Betty shed her clothes and put them in the wash. She walked through the house nude. When she reached the bathroom, Betty passed the full-length mirror just inside the entrance, pausing to look at herself. The day's sweat made her skin glow in the early evening. "MILF," Derrick's words (an overheard conversation with her son). 

A lot of the boys (and some of the men, a few married) thought the same. "I have to admit, I look pretty good." She ran her hands over her body for self-love's sake. She was tempted to dip into her pussy, already wet with anticipation. "No, wait for the bath." 

Betty Roberts was 43 years old; 5'10", shoulder length dark brown hair, brown eyes with just a hint of crow's feet, trim body, cantaloupe-sized breasts, still good and firm, a pilates-flattened belly, wide child-bearing hips ("That's two kids for ya."), close cropped pubic hair over a tight pussy, lovely bubble ass (thanks again pilates), long-limbed arms and legs. "Good enough for the men in the neighborhood but not for C.R," she thought contemptuously. 

Two years ago, Carl walked into the bedroom and announced he was leaving her for his secretary, "His twenty-one year old, vapid-headed, bleach blonded, silicon-breasted, plastic surgeried, liposuctioned bitch of a secretary," Betty sniffed. She ran her hands over her breasts, "At least my body is natural."

The divorce was amicable under the circumstances: shared custody of the kids, a healthy alimony, but she fought him tooth and nail for the house. "That Bitch can get her own bathroom," she told him. Carl moved his business east, taking his secretary ("New wife," he said, "New acquisition," she said) with him. The kids hopped back and forth; to their credit, they were in her camp. They came from their last visit and told her Carl was building the Blonde a larger, more palatial bathroom. 

"The bathtub's smaller though," Laura said.

The Bathtub: the other reason she fought for the house; the crown jewel. It brought together the East and West styles. It was a pedestal tub, made of enamelled Pennsylvania steel, set on carved imported marble. Specially designed overflow drains, surrounded the base. Ivory-handled, brass-coated faucets were mounted at the end. 

The plumbing was state of the art. Betty could program whatever temperature she wished. When the tub filled to the brim, Betty turned off the faucets and brought the imported soaps (from Italy and France) and the scented oils (vanilla and lavender). 

She loved lavender; Bill introduced her to the flower. She found its scent intoxicating and bought as many scented products as she could find. Betty made sure the bath water was liberally sprinkled with lavender oil. She waited a few moments, savoring the anticipation. All her anger, her worry, her frustration, soon to be drowned in scented water. 

She could forget about her ex-husband and his bitch; her exasperation with the kids (both teenagers who got into teenage trouble) and well-meaning but misguided friends (who were consistent in their attempts at matchmaking, underestimating her anger towards men); and the final frustration: man-hating aside (except for Bill), she hadn't gotten any since before the divorce. Dildos, carrots, and oil-coated fingers helped, but not much. "God, I want some cock," Betty thought as she climbed into the tub. She lay back to enjoy her earned relaxation.

The creature had no name pronounceable by human tongue. His language was a profusion of clicks and gurgles. He was more than intelligent by human standards; the civilization he represented was old and respected. How He ended on this gods-forsaken planet was through a series of accidents involving a faulty navigation AI and a stray meteor. 

His ship's superior cloaking technology masked the vessel from the primitive detection devices of the inhabitants, but He was still in deep trouble. The crash had gravely injured him; the medscan detected severe internal bleeding; to make matters worse, He was approaching the peak of his mating cycle. His diplomatic mission was perilously jeopardized and his chances of finding a partner before sexual peak were ruined; He gurgled in frustration. 

He sent out the appropriate distress calls and activated the homing beacon; the relay stations placed near the system would pick up the signals soon enough. He ordered the AI to perform a more detailed scan. The 3D vid screen told him the bad news: it was doubtful He would survive long enough for the rescue party to arrive. 

Something had to be done; billions of sentient lives were at stake. He had vital information that could stop the war between the Sentient Republic of Alpha Centauri and the Gemini Confederacy. An idea came to him. He activated the portable Encyclopaedia Xenobiologica and scanned for information on the planet's dominant species. 

The dominant life form was bipedal and sentient, albeit primitive, but the Alien found what He was looking for: "Yes, it might work. It borders on bestiality but I just might be able to pull this off." The Alien stored the diplomatic pouch in the AI, along with a note detailing his plans; he scanned a copy to his brain and then set off in search of a suitable biped.

Standard procedure required that, if possible, a crash landing must be made in a remote area, far from native habitats, so as not to alarm the locals. Procedure went out the airlock when the engines failed. The Alien had set down in the first convenient area, near some primitive dwellings, thankful for the cloaking device. 

When He reached the dwellings, a quick walk through revealed most of them were deserted. The Alien started to become desperate; his body oils and pheromones were reaching their peak excretions. He was still bleeding internally. The Alien came to a wall; not well built or too high by his standards but, given the nature of his injuries, it took some effort to climb. 

The other side of the wall seemed to be some sort of enclosure. The Alien had visited enough planets as a diplomat to recognize a garden. Many sentient civilizations had them. "Interesting," he thought. This one was a riot of strange flowers and ferns. His scent glands opened; the smells were remarkably similar to the scents from his body oils and pheromones. He couldn't resist broadcasting a query to His ship's AI for a chemical analysis; the reply confirmed his suspicions as to the similarities. He was reminded, with a sad twinge, of Home. "A good place to die," He thought. 

He followed a path to one of the dwellings. The Alien noticed that one of the rooms was missing a wall and there were strange sounds emanating from it. The sounds had a rhythmic quality: "Intriguing. Music?" As He approached, he noticed a large bowl-like object in the center of the room. One of the bipeds was in it. Most of it was immersed in water; only its head and upper shoulders were visible. The biped seemed preoccupied. 

Some of the smells emanating from the room were similar to his pheromones: "Good, this could mask my approach." The biped's eyes were closed; the Alien noted the encyclopaedia's words on the bipeds' hygienic habits and relaxation activities. "Perfect, this couldn't be better," the Alien thought. 

Water was a crucial part of what the Alien needed for the Process. If the biped was a female, so much more convenient. The Process was accepted in emergencies so long as the species in question was sufficiently evolved; the biped had to be subdued, however. The Alien raised one of his hands to fire a needle, a defensive remnant from a distant past, useful for this purpose; He fired.

To Be Continued...

Lavender Pt. 02



Betty lay in the warm water, eyes closed, working her pussy to the sounds of Beethoven's Symphony No. 6 (the Pastoral, her favorite after "The Faun" ). Her fingers slid in and out, tickling her clit, bringing her to climax. Her juices mingled with the scented water. The scent of perfumed soap filled the room and blended with the aromas from the garden. 

Betty took great care with her garden, making sure it was stocked with her favorite flowers; roses and lilacs, adding lavender (after Bill's introduction), plus a couple of cherry trees. The lavender scent seemed strong tonight, not just from the bath: "More intense than usual," she thought. She heard a slight rustle, almost a slither, but attributed the sound to the cherry trees, swaying in the mild summer breeze.

"Ouch!" A sharp pain in her right shoulder shattered her calm. Startled, she opened her eyes: "What the...?" It took Betty several seconds to notice the tiny needle stuck in her shoulder, just where it curved into the arm. She thought, at first, "A bee sting?", a hazard given the number of plants around the house. She tried to remove it but only succeeded in embedding it deeper into the skin. She began to feel strange; a slow, creeping lethargy spread from her shoulder, to her neck, and down through her body. That's when she noticed the Thing at the garden entrance.

Imagine a caterpillar; a thick, fat, caterpillar: "A thick, fat, great, big, giant caterpillar," she thought with numb horror; give it six boneless, snake arms, unspooling, wormlike, from the holes which dented its body; taper each of them into six, extraordinarily long-fingered hands; top it off with a beach ball-sized neckless head as its upper segment. Two large pupiled black eyes, a thin, wide slit for a mouth, two dots for nostrils, and two tiny gills on the sides made up its face. 

The Creature's body did not move so much as undulate, the way a long-bladed plant moves under a slow running brook. Its skin was bleached bone white. This was as close a description of the unbelievable vision that confronted her. It was completely hairless and featureless, other than segmented ridges running along its length. The Creature's skin had an oily sheen that glowed in the setting sun. Betty was too shocked to make a sound; her mind too busy trying to process the sight.

The lavender aroma intensified; Betty was startled to find the scent was emanating from the Creature. "Oh my God! It smells like lavender! This is the sweetest smelling monster I've ever seen!" She almost laughed, whether from humor or hysteria, she never knew. 

The Thing crawled and slithered toward the tub. "I have to scream," Betty thought, "I need to scream. Come on Betty, scream!", but the only sound she could utter was a faint "guh". "What's wrong with me?! Scream Betty! There's a slithering alien monster coming towards you, getting ready to eat you or something and you can't scream?!", but try as she might, she could barely make a sound. 

She tried to move but, to her horror, her body refused to respond. Unable to climb out of the tub, Betty watched, helpless, as the creature slithered toward and behind her. "I'm going to die," Betty thought. She slowly, and with great effort, turned her head to stare at the wall, so she could not see what painful death the Thing had in store.

The Thing propped itself against the tub. She felt it place two of its hands on her shoulders. Strangely enough, the hands felt warm, if oily; the lavender scent calmed her somewhat. She prepared herself and closed her eyes. "It's going to rip my head off!" she thought, bidding a silent goodbye to Laura and Bobby. Instead, to her shock, the hands slid down her chest and began to squeeze and massage her breasts. 

Her boobs were bread dough in the creature's large hands. The long fingers played over her tits, made them hard, the tips standing out like pencil points. Betty's shock quickly became confusion: "I thought this thing was going to kill me and instead it's playing with my boobs?! What kind of monster is this?" Another surprised thought came to her: "This is the first time anyone's touched my breasts in three years (not counting the doctor)." In spite of her semi-paralysis, Betty began to breathe heavily.

The creature squeezed and fondled, shaped and molded her breasts like clay. Betty watched with surprise as milk began to spurt out of her nipples. "Omigod! I'm becoming aroused!" Betty thought, her breath coming in faint gasps. The breast "massage" revived feelings dormant since her marriage to Carl, "He never worked this hard on my boobs." 

"What's this thing doing to me? I didn't know I still had milk. And what's happening to the water?" Betty had been immersed to her lower shoulders, so her breasts were submerged. The creature's hands continued the massage, the oils on its skin mingled with the water. The water began to change color, taking on a light violet tint. The lavender scent of the creature increased in intensity, further arousing her. "It feels like soap," she thought, "I'm being molested by a giant walking bar of lavender scented soap." The creature briefly stopped working her breasts. Betty felt a twinge of disappointment: "I can't believe I want It to keep going!"

She didn't have long to wait; the creature's hands snaked down her body, over her belly, towards the pubic region. She could see the beads of oil on its arms as they slid past her shoulders. Its other hands slid over her shoulders to take their place on her breasts. Betty felt a third pair of hands slide down her back, over the spinal column, to the lower back and buttocks. Her body was wrapped in a tangle of oil covered arms that slid back and forth across her skin. 

She looked up at the creature bending over her. Its "face" was unreadable as its hands molded and fondled her body. Alien oils and fluids dripped from its body onto her skin. Her hair, face, and shoulders took on an oily sheen. The violet tint of the water darkened to a deep purple. Betty, already in an erotic daze, let out a gasp as the creature's other hands slid briefly over her muff and began to massage her pussy. Its long fingers entered her wet cunt and snaked towards her clit. Simultaneously, the third pair of hands squeezed and molded her ass. She felt the creature's fingers enter her asshole. Betty squirmed as the creature's oil-slickened hands moved inside her; alien oils mingled with her juices. Her vaginal walls and rectum lubricated.

The "massage" intensified. She was pumped and milked, kneaded and molded. The creature's long fingers massaged her clit; its thumbs stroked her pubic hair. Her knob swelled and her pussy produced juice, which mingled with the oils and seeped into the bathwater. 

Betty was going to cum; she could feel it. The near paralyzing lethargy had worn off; she didn't notice. Her breath came in rhythmic grunts ("ugh...ugh...ugh...") with each pump and squeeze. When Betty did notice (through the lavender haze of the coming orgasm), she remembered the grunts as the same sounds she made with Carl. "Oh God, its been that long?" were her last thoughts before obliteration by a white hot blast; the biggest, most powerful orgasm of her life.

Her body went into convulsions; it writhed and squirmed, her skin slid against the eel-like arms smearing oil into her flesh. She screamed ("Now I'm screaming.") sounds and words unuttered since she discovered the orgasm as a teenager. The convulsions arched her back, her belly rippled and spasmed, breasts mashed into the creature's hands which continued to pump and milk. Breast milk squirted in arcing fountains into the tinted water. 

Betty's ass and cunt tightened, grinding into the oiled fingers while her arms and legs thrashed wildly, almost as boneless as the creature's arms. Violet water splashed over the side of the tub, ran down the pedestal, into the drains. The water churned into a bubbly violet froth. Eventually the spasms ceased and Betty settled with a heated gasp into the tub; only to be set up for the next wave as the creature continued its devastating massage.

To Be Continued...



Lavender Pt. 03



The Alien's many hands worked over her supple body. Its eel-like arms slithered across her warm skin. Long, broad fingers slid in and out of her wet pussy, now pouring cum into the deep purple water. Milk squirted out of her breasts to blend in the coital soup. 

Betty's orgasms increased in number and intensity; her body became oily slick and saturated: "I'm...wet...inside ...and...out," she thought between gasps. Betty's mind drowned in the pleasurable flow of the transformed water. A lethargic thought rose to the surface before sinking in the orgasmic flood, "Some...thing...is... hap...pen...ing...to...me." 

Something was happening; the Alien's purpose was not completely sexual. The "massage" forced the biped into multiple orgasms, allowing the Alien to milk it of body fluids. Mixed with his own oils and water, they formed a nutrient-rich soup necessary for the Process. The oils also contained microscopic nanobots. The Alien had injected them into his body prior to leaving the ship. Their function involved genetic reconstruction and mutagenic enhancement. Theoretically, these machines could have repaired the damage to the Alien's body but, unfortunately, the original package containing the 'bots' lacked the specific med-repair program for his species (an issue the Alien, if the Process worked, intended to raise, quite forcefully, with the manufacturer). 

The oils had biochemical properties included in the nanobots' enhancement program. Already, they were making subtle but necessary changes to the biped's genetic makeup. Areas of the body, where the blood vessels were close to the surface (such as the rectum and vaginal cavity), were ideal places to introduce the machines. Oils were rubbed into the biped's skin for similar purposes of alteration. Blood, skin, bone, and muscle took on new properties. Her brain, nervous system, respiratory and digestive systems were re-ordered into new functions.

Betty was becoming a hybrid of human and alien. Only a thorough examination, using the most advanced medical technology, would detect any change. The alien technologies were state of the art and subtle in function. It wasn't wise to have primitives receive concrete evidence of aliens among them.

Betty was experiencing wave after wave of orgasms, each one on top of the other; powerful mini-novas of pleasure, far surpassing all sexual experience. She always thought of herself as a "quiet fuck" (Carl's term). Betty enjoyed sex but rarely made noise when she performed it. The orgasm with the creature marked her first scream in years. Even Carl couldn't draw out that reaction. So far as she was concerned, her experience made Carl irrelevant.

Now, as the creature massaged her body, she made faint grunts and gasps. Her responses reduced to a sequence of convulsions, shudders, and spasms. The creature had complete control - "Do...what...you...want...to...me. I...ssssurrr...eeennn...derrrr!" She was boneless and pliable, her body reduced to jelly, her mind thrust into a perfumed haze of exhaustive pleasure. She wanted to beg the creature to stop and, at the same time, not stop. She came over and over, losing all sense of time, as the creature worked through the evening and into the night. At the end, she was primal; reduced to the most basic senses: touch, sound, smell.

When the creature stopped, she barely noticed. As it withdrew its appendages from her body, Betty, still quivering from her last orgasm, gasped out a faint "Please." She was unsure of the nature of her plea. 

Post-coital exhaustion rather than alien venom caused a new lethargy. She settled into the tub and realized, with panic, she had no strength to pull herself up. She sank deeper. 

"I'm going to drown!" 

There was a faint slither; the creature was moving to the end of the tub.

Betty watched as it crawled over the rim, exposing its underside. The creature had no feet; instead they were circular stubs, like suction cups. In spite of her exhaustion, Betty was fascinated by how the creature used its arms and "cups" to "flow" over the rim into the tub: "So this is how it got over the wall." 

The creature's bulk brought the water back to the brim (the earlier activity had caused some water to splash out of the tub and down the drains). The oils from its body blended into the water, staining it a deeper violet as it crawled towards her. It reached out and seized her in its six arms. The creature used its upper and middle arms to prop her up, placing two of its hands on her shoulders, and wrapping its other arms around her torso. 

"What's it going to do now?" she asked herself. 

Betty got her answer as the creature used its lower pair to spread her legs.

To Be Continued...



Lavender Pt. 04



The creature raised its body slightly. A long, fleshy tube emerged from a slit in the creature's lower segment. The ripples and color of the water made it difficult for Betty to guess the size and length. She knew what it meant, however: "Omigod! It's going to rape me!" 

The massage was one thing, having an alien monster's dick inside her was another. Betty tried to close her legs but the multiple orgasms had sapped her strength. She tried to push the creature away, but its oil-slick skin combined with her exhaustion to work against her. 

Betty's hands slid over the creature's body (she noted, with considerable frustration, that the creature had no trouble holding on to her). She tried to grab the arms, they slipped through her hands: "Damn! It's like trying to hold an eel. Oh God! It's moving closer and there's nothing I can do!". She backed against the tub with an exasperated gasp. "Oh damn! He's too slick! I'm too slick!" She waited, with frustrated exhaustion, for the creature to begin.

The creature spread her legs wider until they touched the sides of the tub. The tip of its penis touched her vulva. Betty's breath quickened from fear and, to her surprise, grudging anticipation. It moved its hands to her thighs and buttocks, and pulled her against its body. At the same time it thrust into her. 

Betty gasped as she felt the creature's dick enter her pussy. She felt some pain as its sides slid against the warm, moist walls of her canal. She estimated that its dick was four inches thick: "Thicker than Carl's," she thought, "God! Carl did have a pencil dick!" The earlier orgasms made her so wet its passage was easier than expected. "Well, I said I wanted some cock," she giggled hysterically. 

The dick continued to slide through her cervix. She realized that more of it was entering her cunt: "Wow! How long is it? Carl could barely reach my womb. It's amazing I had Laura and Bobby!" The creature continued to massage her thighs and ass. Betty, slick from the creature's oils, slid along the equally slick enamel of the tub. 

The creature's body began to ripple. Its wavelike motions pushed the dick deeper inside her. Its middle and upper arms moved along the length of Betty's body. Each time she was pressed against the creature, it would rub its skin against her breasts and belly.

The creature's movements became an almost mechanical series of pumps and thrusts. Its cock passed back and forth over her clit, stimulating Betty into an erotic frenzy. Lethargy vanished, repulsion became lust. Her hands moved across the creature's body, not to push it away but to draw it closer. She need not have bothered; her hands slid off the Alien as before, but it had no trouble drawing her close. Oils slathered her skin and painted the water. The creature gave off an intense lavender aroma that overwhelmed her senses.

Through it all, they both made few sounds. Beethoven and Debussy had stopped playing; Betty was too busy to notice. The only sounds present were the soft smacks of flesh against flesh; the splashing of water; and the faint gasps and grunts of Betty ("ugh...ugh...ugh...") in tandem with each thrust and pump. Betty exploded into a violet colored nova just as she felt the creature's cock enter her womb. She was convulsing in its grip when the creature unexpectedly shifted position.

In an instant Betty was submerged; on her back, on the bottom of the tub, legs spread to either side of the creature's body. "What the...? Get off me! Let me up you idiot, I'm going to drown!" She panicked. She pounded at the creature but it impassively continued to pump away. 

She felt its cock touch the walls of her womb. It slid across the walls before curling on itself as more of its length entered her. The creature had dunked her before she could take a breath. Betty could only hold it for so long; she held until her vision began to dim. "Oh, shit!" Betty thought and opened her mouth, anticipating suffocating agony as the water rushed into her lungs. That was when the changes in her body manifested themselves: "What?!! I can breathe?!"

Betty lay in stunned disbelief; so shocked she forgot, however briefly, the creature thrusting into her. The initial discomfort of water rushing through her nasal passage, faded as her newly altered lungs began extracting oxygen. 

Some of the water had gone down her throat. It had an oily texture with a sweetish taste; she was reminded of lavender flavored tea. "Lavender, everything about this thing is lavender. A lavender Alien," she thought, stupefied. 

Her pussy stirred; another orgasm was approaching. She looked through the violet haze at the alien, her legs spread, feet resting against the alien's sides. She saw more of its cock; it was far longer than she thought: "My God!! That's the longest cock I've ever seen; and there's more of it. Where does it end?" She saw it expand and contract like a pump. Betty felt one end curl against the moist walls of her uterus, while the other end pulsed and slid out of the creature's torso. Her belly moved up and down with each pulse and thrust, responding to the ripples from the alien's body.

Betty brought her hands to the creature's body and ran them across its front. "I think I'm making noise.", she thought. The sound was lost in the water. She brought her hands to its cock, feeling it pulse and slide into her, "It feels so warm." 

The creature continued to use its lower hands to massage and pump her. It unwrapped its middle arms from her torso and began to play its hands along her belly, pushing up and down with each ripple. Betty wanted to giggle; it tickled. 

The upper hands milked her breasts; white cream spurted to blend into the violet soup. Betty's thoughts were reduced to an intense desire: "Oh God, I don't want this to end!" She'd had men before Carl; some were even larger than him. She never experienced anything like this before: "No one has. Who fucks aliens?" She exploded again, convulsing as the thrusts and pumps continued.

To Be Continued...



Lavender Pt. 05



The nanobots relayed the message: *alteration complete**conversion successful*. It was good news; time was running out. The Process exacerbated the Alien's internal injuries. His hearts were failing, death was imminent. 

The small machines had converted the biped into a genetic factory. Her body would grow his clone while the contents of the diplomatic package were transmitted to its brain. The nutrient soup was fuel to sustain the biped while she accomplished her task. The whole project should take a few cycles, hopefully before more bipeds arrived. When the Alien died, the remaining nanobots were programmed to convert his body to protein. The protein, added to the soup, would provide more fuel. 

The Alien inserted a soporific program to keep the biped docile until its clone reached maturity. The last act of his old body was to insert his genetic material.

Betty came down from her last orgasm. The fleshy tube pulsed within her. The walls of her vaginal canal expanded and contracted with each pulse. The Alien's ripples increased; her body responded. Betty felt as if she were liquid; waves began at one end of the Alien's body, flowed into her belly and back again. "If my head were above this water I'd be screaming," Betty thought. The increased amount of water, rushing in and out of her lungs, said much about her feelings. 

The Alien's body seemed to expand; Betty saw a huge wave travel down its length. "Oh no! Something big's coming!" she thought. The wave reached the Alien's cock. The cock expanded; Betty felt intense pain as her vaginal walls were stretched to near rupture: "Oh my God, he's grown too huge. Ugh! It hurts!"

The wave passed; the Alien's dick contracted. The pain switched off with a sudden shock that brought an almost comical flurry of bubbles from her mouth. Simultaneously, she felt a warm explosion in her womb: "Well! It finally came." The explosion was accompanied by a warm, serene feeling. It started in her womb and spread outward. Her first thought was "post coitus" but it felt different: "Mmmmm! What did it do to me this time? It's not like after sex with Carl. It feels yummy." 

The feeling surpassed the pleasure she felt before the Alien's appearance. A sense of quiet detachment took over her mind: "I feel quiet. Yeah, that's it. All I want to do is enjoy the silence. I never felt this way before; not with anyone. What did he do to me? Did I just call it a He?" Her womb stirred but not in orgasm. She looked at her belly, distended slightly from the Alien's cock. Cum flowed into her; none flowed out: "I think its dick is blocking it." She felt the rush of liquid as it filled her womb. The Alien shifted position as her belly swelled. 

She wanted to feel something, some type of shock or horror; mild wonder was the best she could do: "I'm on my back, on the bottom of the tub. I'm submerged in some purple stuff that used to be my bathwater. My belly is swelling like a water balloon. A giant alien caterpillar is on top of me; and it just gave me the greatest fuck of my life. It's like I ate a mushroom." 

The alien cum stopped flowing: "I don't think anyone had an orgasm that long." She looked at her belly: "I haven't seen that in over fifteen years. I look so ripe. What's happened to the Alien? It's stopped." Betty reached out and touched the Alien's face. Its eyes were hard black coals. She ran her hands along its body; there was no response. "I think it's dead."

Betty stared at the lifeless body: "This is weird." One moment it was pumping her like a machine, the next it stopped, as if someone threw a switch. "He turned off. My God, he came and went," she giggled. She lay flat beneath it. The Alien was still inside her. Its hands were on her body, her breasts, her torso, her ass. Her legs were spread on each side of its body. Its impassive face stared at her. "I'm stuck on the floor of a bathtub with a dead alien," she thought, "This is the first time someone has actually died while fucking me. God! I feel like Goldie Hawn in 'Private Benjamin'." 

Through the entire experience the creature had never made a sound. The sounds Betty made while it fucked her reflected a carnal minimalism; no declarative exclamations, no passionate encouragement; just one scream and a series of grunts and gasps. "The greatest fuck I ever had and he wasn't even human." Betty thought. "Now what?" 

The automatic lights allowed Betty to see in the bathtub. They were programmed to come on when it became too dark. Strategically placed around the bathroom, they cast a soft glow that reached into the tub. Betty was able to see that the Alien was fading. "No fading isn't quite right. He's dissolving." She saw tiny bits and pieces dissolve into the water as the body became more transparent. "He's like a bar of soap that was left too long in the tub," she thought. 

Betty felt exhaustion overtake her; she suspected her unnatural calm was part of it: "That and the fact that I spent the last few hours getting my brains fucked out," she thought drowsily. "I'll just close my eyes for a second." When she woke, the alien was gone.

To Be Continued



Lavender Pt. 06



Conclusion

"Violet," she thought. "I can't exactly call this bathwater, so I'll call it Violet. Lavender is too obvious, purple's too dull. It's so warm. It's like tea. Gosh! What am I thinking?! I can't believe this is happening! It's right out of a tabloid!" 

Betty lay in the warm Violet for three days. Violet flowed through her body; it filled her lungs and her stomach. Oxygen was extracted, alien proteins were processed and metabolized. Her newly efficient digestive tract produced no waste. 

Betty found the lack of boredom to be the most interesting part. She thought she would feel restless after lying still for such a long period. She could move but sluggishly. Occasionally she would look at her swollen belly, "Swelling," she thought, and run her hands over it: "Something is happening in there." 

She felt movement; not quite the kicks and bumps Robert gave her when he was in the womb. It was a soft vibration with an occasional pulse; almost mechanical, as if something were being assembled. 

On the second day her belly began to throb; expanding and contracting like a bellows. It felt...sensual: "This is making me horny," she thought. "Hmmm, breasts or cunt? I'll take breasts, my cunt's been given enough exercise. Besides, the tea needs cream."

"I should be hysterical. I should be crazy. I think I am," she thought. "I'm pregnant with something. Maybe it'll burst out of me like the alien from the movie. I'm supposed to be terrified." 

The Violet was warm, soothing, quiet; Betty wished she could lie in it forever. "This is what it felt like in the womb." The contractions began on the third day. Betty felt an almost nostalgic familiarity, "Here comes my third child." 

She felt warm liquid flow from her womb, down her birth canal. Her belly deflated slightly. She looked over the curve and noticed dark fluid drifting from between her legs: "I hope it isn't blood." The movement in her womb increased; something brushed against her cervix. It was coming: "I'm about to give birth. I better assume the position. No stirrups, no doctor. This is going to be hard." Betty thought for a moment, "On second thought," she remarked, "It's good the doctor isn't here. He'd have a coronary."

She placed her hands on the sides of the tub and carefully pulled herself up; the sides were slippery. The time on her back hadn't stopped the sluggishness. Her head broke the surface for the first time in three days. 

The transition from "liquid" to air was brief. One cough expelled the fluid, the next breath sucked in the air. A few moments passed while her breathing returned to normal. Betty ignored the labor pains (not an easy task) until she felt the creature enter her birth canal: "Well, time to do this." She spread her legs, gritted her teeth, and began to push.

"I never thought I would go through this again," she thought, "I can't believe I'm so calm. I'm about to give birth to an alien. I'm a living, breathing tabloid story." Between the contractions, Betty thought for a few moments, "Maybe this experience was so crazy, so...weird, my mind just had to accept it; or maybe the alien did something to my brain; maybe it's both." 

She pushed through the experience; her body remembered after fifteen years. The expanded cervix; the unbearable pressure on her vaginal walls; the slow, agonizing passage through the birth canal.

She fell into a familiar pattern ("Huff...huff...huff..."), pushing on every third breath. The birth was complicated by the slippery sides of the tub, so Betty bent her legs, placed her hands on the knees and braced herself against the end. 

The birth was shorter than Laura but longer than Robert; Betty thought it was because of the Alien. The Alien was larger and longer than a human baby. The pressure within her body was excruciating, "It's just like the movie." The labor took ten long, agonizing hours, through the late afternoon and into the night. She exhaled a relieved sigh when it finally popped out. It settled to the bottom of the tub and lay still for several moments.

There was a swirl of violet. It thrashed around for a few moments before its head broke the surface. It was a smaller copy of the Alien; "From sex to pregnancy to birth in three days. That's a record." Other than its size, there was nothing "babyish" about the creature. It did not cry, but emitted a series of clicks and gurgles: "I guess that's crying," Betty thought. It wasn't her "son" in the purest sense but Betty did feel some connection: "My body was used to create this thing." 

The creature swam forward and crawled onto her body. Six tiny arms sprouted from it sides; the hands fastened onto her left boob. Betty ignored the impulse to fight the Alien off: "It's my baby. It wants to feed." She did not object when it started to suck on her tit. Betty cradled the Alien as it sucked, not so much from motherly instinct; she just felt foolish sitting there with her hands at her sides.

Her nipples grew hard; breast milk (albeit the genetically altered kind) flowed into the Alien. Her breasts were tender and sensitive and Betty squirmed a bit. The boob action made her cum briefly. It was a far cry from the wrestling match of three days ago. 

The Alien made faint slurping sounds as it sucked; with each swallow it grew in size and length. He (Betty started to think of it as "He") transferred to her right breast and repeated the action. "More sucking," she thought, "and I'm cumming again." 

When the creature was finished it was roughly the size of its predecessor. He rested on her body in roughly the same position as his "Father". Betty realized her legs were spread; the Alien's lower body rested between her thighs, its skin rubbing against her pubic hair. She felt her pussy getting wet. "Oh no!" she thought, "It's happening again." She couldn't take another "massage", or another "pregnancy". The Alien stared at her; then he took his upper right hand, placed it on her forehead, and began to stroke it. "What's it doing?" she asked.

Betty looked at the Alien; at first, his face seemed just as unreadable as the other. Seconds passed and she thought she saw something different: a shift in his eyes, a slight movement in his mouth; an impression or a feeling. "You're welcome," she said, "Why did I say that?" The Alien stopped stroking her and climbed out of the tub. She watched as it slithered out of the bathroom and into the garden. He moved much faster than his "Father" and was gone in an instant.

Betty lay in the bathtub for several minutes. "I've got to get up. I've been in this tub for three days," she thought, "one hell of a soaking." It was difficult, "Why shouldn't it be after what I've been through." The sides were slippery and she had been mostly immobile, but a few minutes later, she was standing by the side of the tub, waiting for the feeling to come into her legs. She looked at herself; no stretch marks, no water wrinkles: "Somehow I'm not surprised." Violet ran down her body, puddled on the floor, and ran down the drains. 

Betty left the bathtub and walked, on wobbly legs, into the garden. It was a summer night, no moon, starry; the weather was warm. The liquid evaporated on her skin, cooling her. Betty was naked; she didn't care, there was no one to see. She didn't mind if someone had: "Let them watch." 

Was that a flash in the west? She wasn't sure. That streak across the sky; a falling star? His spaceship? Three days ago she stepped into the bathtub for a few hours' relaxation. Instead she underwent the most intense sexual experience of her life, followed by the strangest anyone could know: "But nobody will," she thought, "nobody would believe it. They'd put me away or do experiments on me. I'd never see Laura and Bobby again." 

Betty looked at her body; she was changed; not just in her thoughts, but in her entire self. "I'm different inside. That creature changed me. I can feel it." She looked towards the house: "I'm going to have to drain the tub. The kids will be home in a few days." Betty thought, "This has been the weirdest week," as she walked back to the house.

Seventy five degrees and it's a beautiful summer afternoon; Laura and Bobby Roberts are back from vacation. They did not have a good time; one week with their traitor Dad and his brainless blonde bitch of a girlfriend. 

The Girlfriend (they refused to call her stepmother) told them she was expecting, so it meant they were going to have a brother or sister; they didn't want a brother or sister. Dad was no help. They knew from a young age that he was a self absorbed shit. He confirmed it by ignoring them for the whole week. He was more interested in his clients...and Her. On the plane home they both agreed: Mom was right; when they were old enough they'd break all ties with him. All in all, not a good time; they are glad to be home. Mom meets them at the door in a blouse and jeans. "Hi kids," she asks, hugging them, "Did you have a good trip?" "Don't ask." Laura answers, hugging back. "'Sniff...sniff', Mom you smell great. Is that new perfume?" "No."

End