Posted: 12/17/2006, 9:04:55 PM
The mood back in the cabin of flight 69 had turned less towards the mischievious frivolity of loosed sexual inhibitions, and more towards a dedicated mission of copulation and impregnation. Each of the transformed females possessed innate hypnotic abilities that paralyzed the fit and virile military men before any of them could think clearly enough to mount a resistance; and with the spores in their drinks, their libidoes had been heightened to the point that resistance was the furthest thing from most of their minds.
Rhythmically, the youthened and ripened nuns ground their groins against the hardened rods of the officers. Most still wore their habits, a symbol that they were no less devoted now, only that their devotion had changed. Sleek, glistening skin dripped with sweat as this sisterhood of lust millked the seed from all the men who were still men. That it seemed, lent a certain urgency to their couplings.
Clenching ass-cheeks and hot pussies churned upon erect, engorged penises with disciplined, rhythmic efficiency, each nun desperate to feel as much cock as possible before they ran out of men. If the corruped clerics hurried, each would still receive many more loads of semen before the plane had nothing but females. The task was made slightly easier by that fact that the transformed former men seemed obsessed with lesbian sex, at least for now.
Major Jason Baines was a curious, cunning officer with an eye for detail and analytical ability that had impressed his superiors to put him on a promotion track even with only limited combat experience. Ordinarily, Jason would have been the first to remark upon the incongruous nature of the transformations; some of the fallen soldiers turned into female versions of themselves, but about half had hair or eye colors completely different from what they'd been as men. Yet Major Baines was unable to register this fact, consumed as he was in the throes of his own transformation.
The dying embers of his rational mind told him that he should have resisted this horrible, erotic attack that had gotten him in this mess. But, for all his discipline, he was still a man... for now... and... and something in his drink... there was some weird additive, impossibly sweet, and whatever it was, it had gone straight for his groin, searing him with a sexual yearning more powerful than his will to live, his seven-inch cock had bulged with such steely hardness, that it seemed strong and taut enough to use as ammunition. And in the end, the nun had been the aggressor. He could have sworn the woman had been a dumpy old forty-something abbess frought with worries and wrinkles, yet the dimpled creature with a mole between her breasts, revealed as she tore open her own habit in front of him seemed scarcely old enough to buy alcohol. To Jason's credit, he did put up momentary resistance as the youthened slut tore open his pants and began to deep-throat him. But his rough, gnarled hands upon her raven-black hair soon changed from a restraining, pushing motion to the encouraging strokes that signalled to the woman her fellatio had suceeded.
What could he have done when the dark-haired goddess leapt into his lap, impaling her womb upon his slickened shaft with an aggression matched by none but the most skillful whores? What recourse was there? Indeed, the only thing Jason could have done was to cum, to cum with more force, more accompanying grunts of feral gratification than he ever imagined possible. His body and penis beyond his control he spurted, jetting virile strands of fertilization into the feminine sheath devouring his member in a dripping wet cavern of velvet pleasure. But then she had cum; as if the act of ejaculation, the feel of his seed inside her triggered a different sort of climax. Eyelids fluttering, the depraved nun dug her fingernails deep as she pressed her cunt ever tighter against his raging meat. It was almost... almost as if HE was the one being seeded.
And so here he was, writhing upon the carpeted floor of the cabin, dodging the thrashing legs and prostrate bodies as he felt his manhood, indeed his humanity slipping away. Before he knew it, all body hair had gone, and Jason could feel the inflating tension in his chest, nipples already sprouting to a feminine, thimble-size as he felt the quivering tremors heralding the expansion of his chest. The pleasure was so overwhelming, so consuming that it caused his body to tense and grimace as though it were pain, yet he never wanted that delicious sensation to end. Wallowing in the throes of the Change, Jason made the mistake of running a finger over his crotch, the intensity of the stimulation was like an electric jolt, Jason quivered and lay barely moving for several moments, unable and unwilling to slow or resist the transformation. Had the pleasure not been so severe, he might have marveled at the way his own blond crew-cut had darkened towards just a shade lighter than black, but he was not aware of this as the sensations grabbed hold and strangled his reason, morality, and logic.
What he did notice was that some of the men, the older generals had passed out during their Change. Was it better or worse to be conscious during the Turning? No... he... he had to fight this! They were... somehow they were turning him into a woman! His hands slapped to his smooth chest, where C-cups were emerging in plump ripples even as he clutched them. But the feel of hands grasping these tits, the teasing feeling of growing nipples pressing Jason' hands... it sent another paralyzing shudder through him, and all he wanted to do was lie back and ride out the storm. No... no... couldn't... couldn't... give in... no... no...
Eyelids fluttering, mind growing dull, Jason clutched his medals, clutched at the nametag on his jacket... Baines it read... Jason Baines... he was Jason Baines... Baines... but... but... it all seemed so silly. The popping sound that came from the abrupt opening of her new cunt was almost drowned out by a feminine shriek of delight. How ridiculous; her name was Jocelyn! All this military junk seemed so meaningless! She giggled with innocent glee as she ran her hand through her groin, contented that her pussy had come in at last.
But the needs within Jocelyn's freshly-minted cunt had not abated; there were still cravings, overwhelming urges... she ran her hand over the tiny mole between her grapefruit-sized boobs as she grappled with a strange bombardment of images as her racial memory asserted itself. In a rush, she absorbed the nature and mandate of Gaia, rapidly adapting to her circumstance and new role within Earth's ecology. But there was more, more she needed besides sex with men, something that went beyond the lesbian orgy that was surrounding her, a new need was - *OOF* The girl that leapt atop Jocelyn must feel the need too, for a newcomer had just embraced the feminized Major with a determination in her brown eyes; a singular receptiveness in the way she opened wide her legs and purposefully pushed her sex against Jocelyn's. Yes, this would be Captain Jamal Gainsmore, once a short but densely muscled black man with a trace of Irish on his grandmother's side; now become a wanton, female slut with wavy hair just a touch on the red side, even as the expression on her face showed just a touch of human sanity amidst the frothing cauldron of Gaia-lust.
Jocelyn was dominated and stimulated all at once; pinned down by her new lover as their sexes seemed to lock in place. She did not know precisely what would occur, yet she was driven now by a ferocious aggression to submit to the advances of this fellow soldier. These two drives creating a delicious contradiction that made her erect nipples tingle all the more.
No, not the Lesbian sex she was growing used to, their coupling was something more intense, deeper. The labias seemed to seal, adhering to each other in a way that should not occur during purely human sex. A hot tension built in each crotch, as unique hormones surged into the brains of both women, eliciting a mind-fogged haze of erotic grunts and hungry snarls. As the woman that had been Jamal squeezed the bottom swells of Jocelyn's tits, the sharpness of the sensation made her gasp, and the explorations of her own fingers as they teashed the terrain of her partner's jutting ass provoked a similar exhalation of glee that was more intense, more sublime than it should have been. It was apparent in mere moments; with pussies locked together in this manner, every touch, each pleasurable caress was magnified, amplified. It would be possible to orgasm from nothing more than a gentle touch of her own nose, so acute was the delight. Yet it was nipples and crotch that received the attention.
And soon, a competition became apparent; each female felt a deep need to drive themselves to climax. Who would succeed first? Which pair of roving hands would push the sweat-slicked flesh of her paramour over that sweet precipice first? Which pair of hardening nipples would so shock their owners that the only response would be a hip-thrusting female orgasm? In this, the new slut that had been Jamal seemed to dominate as well, and with a yelp, her pussy began to spasm against the splayed sex of Jocelyn, ripples of pleasure and grinding humps heralded an explosion of wet bliss and animalistic gratification. Jamal had come first, and at some instinctive level, Jocelyn knew that her lover had won. But won what?
The sharp tingle in her buttocks inspired her to disengage from the coupling, as she reveled in the widening, plumping sensation. She should have been more surprised as her skin darkened a shade into a bronze-brown, and as her hair slipped into an ink-black hue. Yet the knew changes seemed so perfectly, completely natural that there was no concern. That seemed to be the way with Gaia's changes. Everything that happened was the will of the great life-web that encircled the Earth, the very embodiment of the natural order; no matter what it did to the living beings that writhed beneath its power, such changes would feel wholesome, inevitable, and perfectly desirable.
Jocelyn had changed dramatically, the other woman had imprinted herself as if she had been Major Baines' own mother; like a portion of her own genes were now being expressed, diluting Jocelyn into a mixture of herself and this other female. With hands and eyes alike, she examined her renewed body. She was much like the voluptuous vixens that one might see on the arm of a Gansta rapper, or in one of his videos. Her ass was so firm and ripe that she could have rested a half-dollar-coin atop each hemisphere while standing up.
She gasped in shock and puzzlement at the speed with which her attitudes and preferences transformed. Any trace of the normal, male sexuality of Jason Baines had been erased; leaving behind only a raging cauldron of nymphomania with D-cup breasts and a Ghetto booty. The very thought of it... another shudder passed through her as raw estrus battered its way into her mind.
Jocelyn screamed from the biting shock of her burning libido. She was suddenly possessed of a frantic need for male penetration more severe than any drive or desire she had ever imagined. Normal humans with urges this powerful would devote their lives to their passion, suffering any hardship or loss, including their own death, to see their dream realized. And Jocelyn's dream was to be bathed in the semen of ten-thousand studs, to be speared upon penises like a sweaty, naked pincushion.
Before, in the first few moments of her transformation, she would have happily submitted to any man that had been nearby, but in that singular moment, her lusts had taken on a new urgency. She had truly become the new breed of nymphomaniac that Patience the Abbess had described earlier; not the passive female that merely permitted men to penetrate and ejaculate into her; that would not be enough to fulfill the purpose of Gaia. She had become a true Aggressor-slut, a sexual huntress that would fixate upon men and sex through any means available. It no longer mattered whether she must club a man over the head and ravish him through force, or whether it would be best to lure him into her clutches through gyrations of her ample assets. She would go to any lengths to compel men to copulate with her. Force or fraud, she would use both means.
Dylsia saw, and while her rational mind did not understand, her new instincts born of Gaia soon gave her an understanding of the unique orgy in the carnal cabin of the aircraft. The transformed officers first had become voluptuous women seemingly caught between the pinnacle of a woman's beauty and fertility. Yet after the new form of female intercourse compelled by instinct, some of the women began to change; their color and facial features shifting. But not all; during the frantic, lesbian mating rituals, the first woman to climax seemed to imprint her genes upon her partner, and the women who had yet to orgasm changed; adopting the appearance of the victor as if she had become the daughter of the triumphant slut.
But Gaia understood; and now Dylsia did too. She and Lisa, women who still had some trace of fertility would change, but still be recognizable as themselves; thus they could continue their old lives, and then subvert those around them. But those who had been transformed, men who had been infected by the ovum-spores and forcibly converted into sex-crazed women could not go back to their old lives.
There was a green-eyed red-head howling as she impaled her womanhood upon the hard rod of a dark-haired, fortyish officer who appeared to be the principal aide to the four-star airforce general that the girl had been mere minutes ago. No one could possibly believe that this girl no older than a college freshman and the general where the same; nor would anyone believe that a young slut with breasts nearly the size of her own head could have attained any significant military rank; this officer's career was over.
Yet that anonymity itself could be a powerful weapon. Dylsia had seen these women changing their form and faces; and that would make it all but impossible to identify them. The most determined search from the most experienced law-enforcement agencies would be unable to track them. They could blend in, spread Gaia's gift to thousands of men, who would then spread their lusts to thousands more, before anyone understood the threat. The greatest difficulty for these women would be containing their explosive passion for male sperm long enough to wear clothing and move to the next mate; but that was a problem for Dylsia as well. It would take considerable force of will to suppress the maniacal breeding lust, to resist the urge to rape any man in sight. Yes... the lust... the breeding lust was... wait... no... there was something wrong...
Dylsia's hand shot to her naked belly, where she felt an odd, gentle fluttering beneath her navel. The strange pulses where accompanied by jolts of raw, animal pleasure; just intense enough to be distracting. What the - what did it mean? This did not seem to be happening to anyone else on the flight? Why Dylsia?! Then, the busty latina remembered her past life; just before she'd left for the Amazon... she'd... yes! That must be it! Her hands probed her belly, as her mind probed the web of instincts that encircled the Earth.
Dylsia was pregnant.