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!
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!
"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.
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.
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.
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.