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XXXecil by request: Enter the Amazon by: XXXecil Part 1: Rewritten Loyalties "Is she still at it?" Private Matthew Bellows asked the security officer, a Corporal, in the chair beside him, as both of the blond, crew-cut soldiers glared with unabashed delight at the image displayed in one of dozens of screens linking every security camera in the east wing of the lonely, black-budget bunker. One of the screens, on the upper left corner in the 3rd row displayed the inside of a holding cell more secret than Top-Secret. Bellows nearly gagged on his coffee; ice blue eyes widening as he beheld the occupant. It wasn't their fault; the Quartermaster had more than enough of the flimsy, hospital-style gowns for everyone, yet she absolutely refused to wear them, or anything for that matter. Her toned arms violently shredded the garments as if the mere notion that she should cover up her nudity was an affront. But she was cunning, with a wily intelligence burning behind those jade-green eyes which were only occasionally opened as the prisoner writhed in her self-inflicted ecstasy. The cloth they had wanted her to wear, along with strips of smooth plastic and other unidentified objects had all been woven together into an simple but effective dildo, which she used upon her naked flesh with a relish even greater than those who voyeuristically observed her. Her nude form had an oiled sleekness common amongst competitive body- builders and some professional models to emphasize their curves and muscles, yet the ripeness of her upraised ass and the rippling bounce of healthy breasts gave an impression quite different from that of an athlete. An obscene rhythm began; from the hastily cobbled sex-toy grinding a liquid path through the gaping welcome of her womanhood, and between the sway of those glistening breasts as the prisoner squatted on all fours; masturbating herself furiously amidst feral grunts. At first, as Private Bellows watched wide-eyed, it seemed as though there were two jiggles of her bosom with each hard thrust into an ever moistening cunt. But as the lurid captive spread her legs further upon her simple bunk, the pattern of her indecent exercise changed more towards rapid thrusts, a quicker grinding of her dildo, so that the jiggling, throbbing action of her slick, naked boobs had almost been outpaced by the frenzy between her legs. "And I thought I'd seen it all; what's the story on this piece of ass?" Bellows asked Security Officer Maxwell. "Ehhh....access to her files....." one of the screens lit up with plain, white text on a black background. "Jane Louise Simcox, of Phoenix Arizona....Age...age 59...?" "'The Hell? You got the right file?" Bellows crinkled his brow with incredulity. "Look at that slut! Not a wrinkle, not a grey hair, no sagging, she's got the body of a porn-star! Err....maybe a runway model...either one! There's no way she's a day over thirty!" "I hear you, but that's the file on the prisoner in this cell." Maxwell added defensively. "Think about it," he mused. "This bunker is out in the middle of nowhere, and Uncle Sam uses this dump to lock up all the deepest, darkest secrets that can't be allowed to see the light of day." "Yeah, I guess so. But...wow...Lookit her, I mean that face alone could get her a modeling contract in a snap!" The young private observed. "Naw...check out those tits; I'm sure they're real, but those prissy weirdo fashion model types don't like girls with anything over a C-cup." Officer Maxwell sagely noted. "Our gal has at least five...maybe six inches of pure boob jiggling around on her chest, D-cup for sure. Maybe double D." "Soooo....there's something out there that turns 59-year old grandmothers into randy little exhibitionists with bodies like college Co-eds, supermodel faces, and the sex-drives of....of....some....way horny nymphomaniac slut." Matthew concluded. "And it's a threat to National Security." "Heh! A part o' me kinda hopes we've got a pandemic!" Her orgasm was, in a word - transcendent. There was no doubt when the climax seized her; her ample hips leaped, and her toned and taut belly rippled as she humped the shaft and hand that held it. The expression in her green - too green eyes was like religious conversion. The glistening sparkle of her moist skin seemed more pronounced as she blushed and flushed with erotic fever. Where her breasts jiggling only from her own thrashing upon the bed, or where her twin mammaries possessed of some sexual energy all their own? Matthew Bellows unconsciously allowed his jaw to droop, filled with a sudden instinct to kiss, fondle, and suckle these succulent gems of womanhood bobbing and wobbling before him. Not until the orgasm had fully subsided did she seem to notice them. Yet both young men had a sense that the entire display was for their own benefit. Her green....green eyes stared fixedly at the security camera in her cell, as if to announce her awareness, her eagerness to whomever might be watching. And she began to dance; yet...it was more than dance. It was primal, scintillating rhythm of thrusts, grinds, and caresses of her skin that seemed to touch something inside each male. From the first shifting of her round, shapely ass, it was apparent that this was no less than a mating dance; yet somehow more. "Ha, the slut knows we're watching and....and she thinks...she thinks we're gonna let her go?" Maxwell was incredulous; it was a ridiculous notion! "Are...are we supposed ta get so horny that we'll let her out of her cell? What a stupid.....slut..." But Bellows' voice had begun to trail off as his eyes riveted his attention to the screen where the creature that had been Janet Simcox gyrated with indecent abandon. Her movements were far more than what they appeared to be; as both soldiers leered at her, something had clicked inside their minds. The Dance awakened a baser, primitive cycle that went beyond reason, or logic. How could the mere swaying and turning of her broad, womanly hips seduce them so? "She's...crazy...we won't....let her go.....not....for a dance..." slurred Maxwell, the agonizing tightness in his uniform pants almost, but not quite enough to rouse his drugged mind to full consciousness. "Won't.....let her....go....won't...." droned Private Bellows. In fact, the instincts being awakened by her mating dance began to shut down their minds. They didn't know it, couldn't explain when and where the shift happened, yet soon they were no longer thinking, no longer reasoning. All they could see was the careening throb of delectably buxom D-cups, their minds held no thoughts save the joys that could be found between her naked, gyrating thighs. They didn't remember leaving their posts, didn't remember shuffling down the blank, concrete corridor. A potent, overwhelming instinct had strangled their minds, leaving behind only images of breast....lips....cunt... Perhaps if some of the other guards had challenged them, demanded identification they might have awakened. Yet they were well known, and neither Private Bellows nor Officer Maxwell were restricted from this part of the Bunker. Wordlessly they passed...down into an elevator...down into holding cells... past disembodied brains sealed in vats....past cages with animals long believed to be extinct....past cells that contained human prisoners the public believed had been assassinated....The two blond, wiry-muscled soldiers saw none of it, comprehended none of it. In their world, there was only Breast....Lips...Cunt.... Maxwell tore upon the door as if the answer to all of life's mysteries was within, and for these two it was indeed. The she-creature had once been Janet Simcox, but she had grown so far beyond that menial identity. Now she was whole...now she was complete; and soon every human on this base would find similar fulfillment. But she needed to plan carefully. As the lust-addled soldiers burst into her cell, she immediately selected the younger Private to be her mate, and her delicate hands tore effortlessly through his uniform as her cunt widened on instinct to accept his meaty reward. But the other.... She grasped Corporal Maxwell by the back of his head and thrust him towards the buoyant delight of her firm, wide-aureoled breasts. A turgid nipple slipped into his mouth; and with no hope of escaping the urges that seized him, Maxwell began to suck. It was not milk, no not in the normal sense of the word. The young officer nearly swooned from the richness of the nectar that he drank; burying his face and mouth into her perfect breasts, he suckled her bounty and surged with joy as a tingling rush passed through him. The taste was not unlike Honeysuckle, yet with a sweet tang reminescent of some rare, South-American fruit. He reveled in the intoxication of her. While Maxwell himself yearned to penetrate this forbidden sex-pot; he found to his surprise that he felt no jealousy as she tore off the pants of Private Bellows, licked his firm and rigid eight inches of manmeat. Nor was Maxwell angry that he was not the one whom this she-devil straddled, using hand...mouth... and tender caresses from her naked thigh to tease and tantalize her mate's cock ever harder. For Maxwell, as he slid back against the wall of the cell, there was only a blissful awakening. Something...some potent agent in the nectar he'd drank had reached his brain, and he could feel his thoughts being altered...expanded....shifted. There were voices then, and a sensation unlike anything the junior officer had ever imagined. Pressing down upon his consciousness was series of great needs, great hunger, hopes and urges. It was like....like a living group-mind, but so large...so powerful....he knew in an instant that he was now linked to an Over- instinct; a living expression of the Will of Nature. It was a global force that existed within every living creature, and all creatures existed within it. Its desires were as insistent as they were gentle, as irresistable as it was delicate. The beefy, blond Corporal chuckled to himself as he felt his attitudes, his loyalties being rewritten. What a curiously giddy experience to feel your own mind rewired even as you contemplated the wonder of it! The Urges, the Great Instinct told him what he must do; he must return to his post and divert suspicions; tell any lie, falsify any information to conceal what just happened to him and Private Bellows. Within this impression came a promise that a Lady would be along soon to give him the gift that was even now being bestowed upon Matthew Bellows; and Maxwell's ecstasy would be no less for having to wait a few hours. So all there was to do was compose himself and try to act normal. And try not to envy Private Bellows for the delicious mating that was being forced upon him. It was odd though, the honey-blond sex-fiend exerted total control over the horny, yearning male. She pressed him down upon her cot, toying with his penis and sliding her moist body up and down his. Yet the Private was clearly consumed with a pulse-pounding, red- faced sexual excitement impossible through normal brain chemistry; yet the female was clearly in control. She seemed far stronger than any 59 year-old grandmother had a right to be; in fact she seemed a great deal stronger than any late-twenties fitness model had any right to be. Though her mate yearned to mount and penetrate her, that he might vent his lusts within her as fast as possible, she forced him down, straddling him as she impaled herself upon that rigid rod. Yet the savage craving that lit up the face of the creature that had once been Janet Simcox seemed a mask of lip-quivering, grunting frenzy that no normal woman could ever know. Maxwell knew that this impossible harlot desired the mating even more than did her male partner! As Maxwell closed the door on the happy couple, he could see the tensing...the thrusting that indicated the first mighty spurts of seed from the Private's tormented rod. Even from afar, it was plain to see the white splashes that escaped from the juncture between the two sexes as they joined....thrusted....ground together. As ravenous as the Simcox she- beast was, she still could not fully contain the full bounty of male reward that shot from the over-stimulated Private. Maxwell's last glance at the pair showed the full lips, and elegant face of a woman with no right to possess such youthful beauty, licking clean her fingers to savor each morsel of delight her male partner was able to spurt. But for her, for the creature that had once been a frumpy, poorly-aging housewife, her work has just begun. It was an impressive display of her powers, that she had so easily unlocked the primal instincts of the two young men, but there were merely the first step in her mission. What mattered more was what occured below her current floor. In the bunker, below her where high-level officers and generals whose Awakening would accomplish her true objective. Below her.... "Your wish...*URRNGT* will be granted....soldiers....*NYAAH*!" That which changed me....Awakened me....will indeed spread!" Promised the sweat-slicked sex-pot in between rhythmic thrusts, as Private Bellows spewed more cum into her than his body had produced the entire week. ********** "Gentlemen, I've believed we've isolated the source of the invasion, the 'Patient Zero', as it were." Explained Colonel Caldwell, in the crisp and clean-cut style that matched his personal appearance as he addressed the conference room of balding heads, wrinkled brows, and critical eyes. On the overhead screen behind him, a portrait appeared; apparently a Driver's License photo. "Dr. Lisa Sorrentino, 38 years old, Professor of Paleobotany and the University of Syracuse, New York." The image on the screen was that of an olive-skinned, proud woman with patrician features and raven-black hair neatly tied into a solid bun behind her head. Next to the first image on the screen appeared a second portrait, one of a woman apparently younger. She had sultry brown eyes and high cheekbones suggesting hispanic descent, with a tousled crown of auburn hair orbiting her head. "Dylsia Jimenez Age 24, a Graduate Student also at the University of Syracuse, and the assistant of Dr. Sorrentino. They are both active members of Greenpeace, who sponsored passage to the Brazilian Amazon rainforest to protest the activities of local Diamond miners." The room full of bushy brows, sagging jowels, and wrinkled-lined eyes shifted with the discomfort and suspicion of the aging generals as they silently contemplated what schemes might be brewing. " In summary, they were approaching the southern edge of the river basin when the....incident occured." Topographical displays appeared next, showing in vivid detail an aerial view of the center of Brazil. "We believe the plan was to meet up with other protesters and stage some sort of a rally. But Sorrentino and Jimenez never arrived. We believe that they encountered something in the rainforest; a contagious phenomenon which infected the two of them, and has the potential to spread further. To the best of our ability, we're going to attempt to retrace their steps, where they went and when. This should better enable us to pinpoint the location of the infectious agent....." ********** Part 2: Paleolithic Pornography It was important to remind herself of why she was here. That was ultimately the real reason why Lisa Sorrentino had trekked further, deeper into the jungle. Tomorrow, they were due at the river banks to meet a few other true-believers, where a boat should be waiting to carry the lot of them to the facilities set-up by the Diamond miners, where they'd add their voices in protest. Lisa brushed a single strand of gray hair away from her eyes, a reminder that someday age would catch up to her, making it all the more important that she contribute something now, today, while she still could. But as she was concerned for the future of herself, and the Earth - she stubbed her toe against a tangible reminder of the past. Her hard boots thudded against the whitish-grey rock with a jade-like texture, embedded in the rich soil, yet in the instant she glanced down, her dark eyes registered what had to be a carving... Yes! the gray block had unfamilar runes that must represent written language! In this part of the jungle? There was no evidence of Inca colonization in a region this remote, none of the other indigenous tribes near here demonstrated written iconagraphy. Scrutinizing the whitish slab with a scientist's curious eye, she suddenly wished she had a bit of an archealogy background, and yet... Grubs and beetles scampered away as Lisa turned the rock over after pushing it free from the dark soil, she had a firm conviction that these fluid, parabolic characters did not match anything Incan or South- American....and while the Paleobotany professor was no expert in this regard, a sudden insight told her that this language system might not match any known culture! In addition to inscrutable, swirly words there were also clear etchings clearly meant to depict human figures. You couldn't get much detail into a slab of rock, but the carvings were deep enough that even after countless centuries in the humidity of the amazon, the figures were still visible. On the back side was a representation of a human torso, the elongated protrustions were clearly breasts. Under the female drawing was a label written in the unknown language. Closeby were a series of bound ovals that seemed to resemble a flower blossom. But that was all on this stone, a shame that there was not more to... But wait! Behind that fern; was another similar stone! Could it have....Yes! Another artifact-stone filled with eerie script in the same, unreadable language! But the ancients who carved it also added many more engraved illustrations. Working frantically, Lisa dug, brushed, yanked and cajoled the larger, 5-foot long slab slowly from the soil. To her pleasant surprise, the breakage pattern on this rock seemed to match that of the first record-stone, a continuation! The professor squatted on her knees, heedless of the dirt and debris that would stain her khaki cargo- pants as she studied the drawings. Another figure with breasts, woman...and another of the flower-blossom symbols, the woman seemed to be taking it, or touching it. More indecipherable writing. One line of the fluid text was larger, engraved deeper than the rest, was this intended as an emphatic statement? Some warning of some sort? Regardless, neither she - nor she suspected any modern linguist could read the words. But the pictures... In the next drawing, the woman's breasts seemed larger, if it was the same woman. Another etching seemed to show the first female carrying a blossom to another woman, who seemed to have larger breasts in the next frame. Next came a gathering of men, their stick-like penises emphasized on the etches. Lisa chuckled bemusedly as she studied what must have been sexual depictions that came next. "They seem like a fun-loving culture..." she remarked, eyes glancing over the weird writings to get to the next etched scene. The female-drawings were coupling with the male figures, at first the positions where clearly Missionary; the males overlapping the depictions of females, the stick- penises noticeably longer than before. But then the images progressed towards depictions of different, exotic positions. The males coupling with etched-in females in what would be termed doggie-style, the engravings clearly showing penises entering the female-figures from behind as five pairs squatted together. Moving her glance towards the center of the large record-stone, she saw that the sexual positions had changed again; only this time the female- figures were clearly dominant, straddling the males. (whose stick-dicks where still evident in the etchings) The females where raising their arms, in triumph? While the men seemed to be wiggling arms and legs, in joy over this liason? Or fear? Lisa gently removed a scampering beetle from the next segment of the engraved story, which showed a more complex drawing. People lined up in two rows, five male-figures, and five females. Some of the females were clearly pregnant, with round curves over their abdomens. Yet in the row below that, there were only women, half of them with the representation for a pregnant belly. The other women were drawn taller, but did not seem with child. What was happening? What could it really mean? Below it was only that mysterious script that Lisa had no hope of reading. Brushing aside a wide leaf, the Professor turned her gaze to a much larger drawing, occupying the entire width of the linear rock. This was a village scene apparently, from the rounded curves on the ground probably depicting huts or hovels. It took a few moments to fully absorb all the action represented. First, in the village where the males and females joining in Missionary sex as before, yet there were also more females, arms waving above them in...distress? In a flash, Lisa realized that there were definitely two separate...classes of women carved into the rock; Those with smaller, more normal breasts, and those whose breasts were clearly larger, visibly pronounced and prominent. The rutting pairs only seemed to contain the sexually-exaggerated women, and Lisa studied the engravings carefully.....yes, every woman having sex in the village was one of the extra-busty types, like those earlier in the record that had been exposed to the flower-blossom object. Careful examination revealed that....no, it was no mistake; some of the women were having sex with each other...two simple figures both with the curved protrusions indicating breasts, going at it 69-style. The majority, however where dominantly straddling stick-like figures with penises. Though the line art on the crude tablet was simple, could Lisa be blamed for the tingling in her breasts; the hardening of her nipples? Surely, the flush of heat creeping into her groin was understandable. The latter end of the rock depicted a sprawling mural of paleolithic pornography. countless images, taking the place where the text should be, covered the rock, in a dizzying variety of intimate positions. Quite a few Lisa had never seen, nor imagined. Why had the artists gone so overboard with their engraved depictions of sex? It must be to emphasize that what happened was a pandemic orgy like nothing this culture had ever seen before. But then...the last image, the last scene....Lisa studied the crooked lines carefully...yes, there were several broken and twisted lines in the same places where the huts where before; had there been...destruction? That seemed to be the message. Was this village destroyed by...by sex? Nearby the stunted ruins that might have been the wreakage of huts where groups of the exaggerated women, running and searching....like they were seeking...more men? Well, this last scene had not a man in sight, only these frenzied, over- sexed nymphos, some of whom were pregnant, yet not all. Carefully studing the engravings, Lisa found that not only where the figures all women, but there were no longer any women with a more normal bust-size. Those that remained all had breasts which....hmm....the Professor tried to extrapolate the depicted sizes with what they would have looked like proportionately, in flesh-and-blood. Certainly bigger than her own, apple-sized endowments neatly contained in her black, elastic athletic bra. If these women lived today, no doubt they would be strippers or porn-stars; with boobs...er....breasts right at the cusp of what should be humanly possible; not the huge, silicon globes of radical plastic surgery, but firm mountains at the upper-most limit of what most men would find attractive. A man probably would be able to just barely encircle these breasts with an outstretched hand; and no doubt those in the etchings had tried just that. But what happened to these people? No wonder there had never been reports of tribes in this area; this was most likely an extinct culture. This....this...sexual disaster must have scattered them, ended them as a distinct race. Yet, where were the men? What was the full meaning? It wouldn't be difficult to arrange transportation for these artifacts; and in less than a month Dr. Sorrentino had no doubts that a team of the most gifted archeologists and linguists the world had to offer would unlock the mystery of the writings.....the warnings? But at the beginning, it was apparent that whatever the full story was, it had started with something the Ancients had represented as a flower. And since the artifacts were here, the village might once have been nearby. If so, then there might be a good chance that this strange, terrible blossom might still be blooming amidst the rampant greenery of the deep rainforest. "Well, this looks like a job for a Paleobotanist if ever there was one!" ********** Should she go to look for her? Dr. Sorrentino had been gone far longer than Dylsia anticipated; and she didn't take a walkie-talkie! 'Just want to get some fresh air'. The professor had said. Oh well, Dylsia was the student; she shouldn't have to do the nagging. Still, she should leave the tent. She should put some pants on. She should stop masturbating to the memory and photograph of her boyfriend, Eric. Another reason to worry about the intrepid Paleobotany professor; as far as her loyal graduate student knew, Lisa had no one special in her life, no one like Eric. Eric Cones had been the only thing that had stopped Dylsia from blowing her savings on a breast-enhancement procedure. His confident seduction demonstrated a strong will and firm guidance that she found distinctly manly. Yet he had lifted her spirits with the sort of classic, hopeless romanticism that revealed a tender soul while giving her assurance of her own desireability. It had been so foolish, such a mistake to think that huge, jiggling boobs larger than grapefruits would give her the completion her life had lacked. She didn't need silicone in her chest, she just needed someone like Eric to make her feel like a woman. And as her fingers glanced over the lips of her hot cunt, sequestered in a mosquito-proof tent, Dylsia reflected the other ways Eric had affirmed her womanhood. No...no...she had to stop...she couldn't sit here in the tent pleasuring herself, when Sorrentino could have her legs broken in a ravine somewhere. She delayed because....in short, she had overestimated her own resolve. She thought she was more independent than this; the young hispanic didn't believe that women could feel such a deep, sexual need; the tension that men did. Yet both mind and crotch alike seemed to cry out for her chosen mate. Was it the real thing?.....not exactly; she hadn't really thought about making her arrangement with Eric really permanent; really official. She simply craved him, craved the way he made her feel. She would need to experience more of him, spend more time with him, - and with his cock between her sleek, bronzed legs before she could be sure he was...'The One'. Unconsciously, Dylsia began to groom and rub her auburn hair; in the past she had always hoped that her colorful cascade of flowing bronze would distract people from the microscopic travesties that her breasts had failed to grow into. And she again began to contemplate some radical change, surgery - drugs - weird herbs, anything to get more curves. As she stood up outside of her tent; it hit her in a flash that her and Dr. Sorrentino were due to meet more students, and other Green Peace activists tomorrow; and....there she was again! Worried about the approval of strangers! How could she invest her self-worth in her bust size; it was silly! Yet subconciously, the shame over her bland figure was always lurking in the back of her mind. So Dylsia would stroll off into the woods and try to find the Professor; she'd put her superficial insecurities out of her mind...put Eric out of her mind. Damn....she was more...dependent on him that she realized! No one else had ever made her feel desireable, feminine the way he had. She needed that confidence, needed that support more than she realized. But she had to become self-reliant; she had to succeed on her own. Yet somehow, there was a lingering sense that on this journey, here in this fabulous rainforest, Dylsia Jimenez would find a way to change her life forever. ********** Part 3: The Eleventh Orgasm The drawings on the stone tablets had been rather crude, yet almost by instinct Lisa had recognized the plant when she saw it. Largely because she'd never seen anything else like it. "The stem of the flower is over a meter and half in length, yet does not exhibit the cellulose structure that would create a wooden texture; unusualy in a plant this size..." She felt herself lapsing into 'lecture mode', in fascination with the vast blossom; which she'd been observing, touching and analyzing for....several minutes now. The head of the flower had an enormity that matched the great size of its stem, the only flower she'd ever seen close to this size was a blossom that smelled of rotting flesh and attracted flies to pollinate it. Yet this botanical wonder could not have been more different in aesthetics. An aromatic cornucopia teased her senses, and more than once the otherwise business-like scientist had to stifle the urge to bury her face in the large, hub-cap sized flower. She suspected that it contained unusual chemical properties in addition to its radiant color. The loose, rippling petals cascaded from the base of the stalk in a scarlet fountain with the richness of liquid silk. No...not quite scarlet, in the right light it seemed to shimmer with a violet irridescence....yet when she circled the plant again to the portion where the scant rays of sunlight slipped through the lush canopy; there seemed to be flecks of gold upon the modified leaves of the flower. Dr. Sorrentino nodded to herself, moving her face nearer to the plant as she formulated a hypothesis. "Yes...the regional natives that carved the marble blocks likely encountered this flower, and most likely ground it up or extracted juices from it to use in some shamanistic ritual; I suspect the species has hallucinogenic properties; which might explain the apparent behavior of the ancient villagers." Then she wondered whether some stray molecule in the plant could have true aphrodisiac properties. For centuries, mankind had sought after such drugs; the results being little more than snake-oil trickery. Yet....here, amidst this ocean of greenery, there were more unknown species than anywhere else on Earth. Man had not yet explored half of the biological marvels of the Amazon. Close examination of the plant was not likely to be risky, Lisa concluded. Just don't eat it, smoke it, or use it in any rituals. "Unusual...the flower has all the anatomical traits expected...except I can see no evidence of an androecium. Hmm...the pistil is present, including stigma....style....and a swollen body corresponding with the ovary...Female reproductive center is disproportionately large; even taking into account the greater comparative size of this flower. And yet there appears to be no stamen." Lisa brushed a velvety petal to get a closer look at the pointed bulb jutting from the center of the blossom. "The species appears to possess...exaggerated female organs; yet unlike other angiosperms there does not seem to be any trace of the normal male organs. Could the anther of the plant be....reduced in size? Or perhaps this species is something like the Gingko tree; with discrete male and female plants. Hmph- an unprecedented adaptation for a flower. Perhaps a more detailed examination of the pistil will reveal more..." That was when the female organs of the plant began to quickly, rapidly swell. ********** They still did not believe. Even though the young students had claimed to be defenders of nature, interested in protecting the Rainforest; Pablo could sense that they humored his claims. He was their Native Guide! Yet even these young students could not believe the full truth! But Pablo would not be angry; he would simply prove them wrong. When the students completed their journey at the end of the week to the site of the Diamond Miners, to begin their protests, the case of Influenza two of the girls had been infected with would be cured! Pablo was a small, unassuming figure in his khaki safari-style jungle gear; yet he knew secrets, tricks, and keys to navigation and survival in the great Amazon that had yet to be matched. It would not be far; he had learned just recently of where the plants where that could cure this particular range of diseases that some of the students had begun to suffer from. Even after all his years in the wilds, there was always more to know, more to learn. The plant that might help them was close...very close within the sweeping panorama of brilliant vegetation. Pablo stooped down to examine the wild herbs and ferns. Close now....close to....the hem of a dress. The woman was just tall enough to seem healthy, yet the comfortable shape of her voluptuous form would fit neatly within the embrace of most men on the planet. Her robes were green and gold, with sun-like emblems and embroided golden shapes that resembled spiders. The robe was open in the front, revealing a glistening body of amber-hued curves and feminine slopes, from the buxom swell of breasts ripe with the fertile energy of the prime years of reproductive vigor. Down towards the luscious terrain of her navel; and the dark thatch of her naked womanhood that seemed to radiate heat. Pablo's gaze lingered for several moments too long before raising his brown eyes to meet the haughty, heart-shaped face of a woman as eerily beautiful as she was vaguely familiar. "Ahh, greetings Priestess. I did not realize that there had been a new acolyte." "You are correct....and incorrect at once, dear Pablo." The two spoke in a lilting, sing-song tongue that was ancient before the voyage of Columbus; a secret language known only to a literal handful of select individuals. She...she had called Pablo by name...a new Acolyte? Suspicious, Pablo's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the strangely-clad young woman. Her rose-petal lips grew into a wry grin with a mischevious flavor as the native guide's expression changed from curiosity, to suspicion, to stunned recognition. "NO...NO!! It IS you!" Pablo's lips quivered as he shrieked. "Who else, Pablo; who would it be besides me?" "But...your face...your body...." the small and wiry guide jerked backwards as if a viper were about to strike. "So young...so...erotic....It must mean...you have violated the Trust!" The woman of forbidden youth turned and spat. "Damn the Ancients and their fears! I have guarded the Sanctum for the majority of my life..." Her green, green eyes grew wistful. "Decades before you were born, Pablo I was guarding and watching. I am too old to even remember my full count of years....after all this time...all these decades... It was MY turn!" Her voice rose in pitch and volume; and perky breasts that jutted forward jiggled as the Priestess raised her fist. "Now...near the end of what would be my natural life, I deserve a reward. I deserve the benefits of all that I have protected!" But the young guide shook his head in disbelief. "By breaking the Trust; you have undone all the good you have accomplished through those long years! Now, you have become your own enemy!" "I have become free!" countered the smooth-skinned siren that could not have been older than twenty-five. "I alone deserve to reap the rewards for my service! I'll not wither away; I'll not die the Hag's death! I have gained more than just my youth, I have a face and flesh more sublimely beautiful than I ever did! Now it is my turn to make men beg! Even you, Pablo! You claim only higher motives; yet you are a man like all the rest, even now you hunger to press your body against me!" Her gaze burned into him with a fiery blend of lust and cruelty. Pablo knew then that words would avail him nothing; he also knew that the knife and pistol he carried would avail him less. He understood all too well what the Priestess had become. The temptation she had been under for all those years was too much. Really, it was just a matter of time before one of the women broke their vows and became the creature of impossible beauty that stood before the wilderness tracker. So Pablo ran. He turned and pumped his legs as fast as he could, then he ran just a bit faster. He was forced to stop short as he rounded a tree - and nearly collided with the gorgeous, treacherous woman who was far, far too young for her years. How did she do it? How had she gotten in front of him? Was she that fast, that powerful? "You know there can be no escape, dear one. The hungers of my flesh have grown...more powerful than I dared imagine! My appetites for men and sex...." she shuddered a moment in awe. "I never imagined a sensation could be so strong! There is but one way this will end, Pablo. You know better than to try and fight me; you have seen that you cannot escape. With my new powers...I could force you..." a delicate finger brushed his trembling chin. "But it will be so much better for you to come to me." And he could smell her then, he could smell the crushing pall of her sugary musk wafting from her body invisibly. How long could Pablo resist the lightning-waves of searing libido that were being kindled within him? The problem was not only from her nude and moist flesh, but the chemical influence of this potent aroma just as much. A finger slipped inside her bush, inside the hot and wet cavern of femininity that seemed to part wide to welcome any intruder. "First...you will indeed lick my cunt! My musks will burn in your brain until you relent. Then, at last you will drink the nectar from these glorious teats!" She jiggled each soft breast experimentally. "And then, only when you are most tortured by desire; only when the flames of your lust threaten to choke out all reason, all intelligence, only then will you impale my womb with your manmeat! And soon - so very soon you will cum! You will cum inside me and fill me with your impregnanting manseed!" "No! NO!! You wouldn't go that far?! I...I understand the desire to be young again but....after breaking the trust...to allow a man to impregnate you? Think of what it could mean!" Pablo had to think fast; perhaps with quick wits he could outsmart his seductive captor. "If you begin to spread, in this day and age, the government will hunt you with bombs, and guns, and rockets; once the government understands who....what you have become, they will punish the Rainforest with their weapons to wipe out the Sanctuary! "And should the seeds perish; there will be nothing, NOTHING to stop the Florfemea! What if the Florfemea should rise again? And the soldiers are already at war with you, purging any trace of what you were protecting! What is to be done should the Femea return?" "You make a wise case, Pablo. But you forget who you speak to; as if the Florfemea Gynus is a threat to me! Still, the soldiers would be a nuisance, and that is why my first stop will be Brasilia; now that all men will crave me; lust after me, I may as well start with the politicians. "After you, Pablo. After you cum inside my womb, after you vent your manseed within me." The errant Priestess gripped Pablo's wrist, placing his calloused palm in the soft valley right between the impressive cleavage of her soft bosom. "Feel my body, take in my musk, my sexual essence through your every pore. To fight me....you must fight yourself...your own manhood. Yes....you weaken, Pablo. You are straining to resist the musks; the pleasure of my touch. Yes...on your knees Pablo, your hunger for my sex is almost as great as is mine for yours!" And Pablo found he could no longer stop himself from gazing with wanton yearning at her fragrant cunt. He knew full well who and what she was; the Guide appreciated the implications of what she'd done when she'd broken the Trust. Yet he could feel the sharp pangs of his own arousal growing stronger with each second! He moaned with yearning as the sharp, sweet ache tortured his flesh from within. The urge, the demand to couple with her naked body became a physical sensation. Pablo's eyes closed as his guts twisted with the enormity of his lust. He felt he was trapped now; his body wanted so badly to entwine himself with her sweat-laced, erotic nudity that all responsibility and obligation seemed to melt away. His mind was failing, he knew that it was so important to resist the intense attraction of this impossibly youthful sex-bomb. The tension within his mind and body burned more fiercely. She seemed to have shed her priestly robes; and now stood nude and glistening before him, thrusting out her ample, mammalian assets into the air and into Pablo's dreams. No....there was something wrong here...desperately wrong with her...and with him. As the pheromones clouded his mind, memory and willpower seemed to fade away. No...he should not put his hands upon the soft hemispheres of her shapely ass. He should not be licking and kissing her thighs. This...was wrong....he couldn't remember how...or why....but somehow, this delicious female did not have the right to be so sexually succulent. It was a crime to run his hands over the firm tautness of the fit muscles over her belly. And her cunt! No...no Pablo...you must not look upon her cunt....you must not sniff her crotch like a dog in heat! He...he could no longer remember why, but it was important not to bury his nose in her naked bush. But whatever he did, A dim part of Pablo's mind still whispered to him that above all else, he must not lick her vagina! He must not taste her womanhood! Cunt....do not lick it! Do not taste it! He did not give in, he never surrendered to her charms. But when the corrupted Priestess began to emit a sensual purr that was as lustful as it was triumphant, Pablo knew he could not resist. His rational mind faded in and out. He knew he had begun to lick her pussy; to savor the juices of her female arousal. Yet his powers of reason where not sufficient to save him. He didn't remember the exact moment where he had failed, yet a faint echo of his intelligence told him that since he had tasted her girl-juice, all hope was lost. He could not stop licking, sucking, slurping her vagina, fondling her hard clit. And the steady stream of her elixir was like nothing so much as honey. There was no hope now; after tasting her cunt Pablo knew in a briefly lucid moment that he would never again be able to resist her. Each lap of his agile tongue into the hot folds of her femalia delivered more of that horrible, intoxicating attractant. By drinking in the wetness of her pussy, he was damning himself. And soon, soon she would allow him to shoot his seed into her womb; knowing full well the dire consequences. Already, the nature guide's traitorous penis had begun to harden more than he had believed possible. It would not be long know...they were close...so close.... ********** She tried to remember. It was important to remember what happened. First step.....don't think about the pleasure...don't think about the waves of crushing bliss that overpowered her mind and body...." "First.....what is your name?...M-my name...L-Lisa Sorrentino...." The pleasure was building! Soon, she would experience another of the explosive, forced orgasms. The orgasms that overwhelmed her like a velvet fist. With each climax, she forgot all but the immense joy of sensual delight. Before the next wave; Lisa struggled to revive her rational mind and analyze what had happened to her. The flower; that was it. As she had gently touched the over-sized pistil of the mysterious flower, the flower with the exaggerated female organs, and the lack of male organs that most flowers would possess. That was it.....it had sprayed her, spurted her with some form of defensive chemical, some intoxicant.....yet...the poison that sprayed her face was not bitter, it was like sweetened honeysuckle laced with cinnamon. There was no pain, no anguish....it was like...like the plant had blasted her with a pleasure toxin. How many orgasms had there been? Nine? Ten? It was as if ten-thousand skilled lovers had assaulted her at once. While every inch of her skin was seething with heightened sensation, her dripping pussy had become a firestorm of throbbing eroticism. No! Don't dwell on the pleasure! That would only make the orgasms come faster! Think...examine...study.... Lisa examined herself; her skin seemed moist with some odd, fragrant oil. She tried to ignore the swelling, teasing tension in her breasts; her breas- boobs felt too good; thinking about the tingling delight from her over-sensitive nipples. Think...yes, there was a sweet nectar that had sprayed her face and chest. It must be some revolutionary poison that incapacitated with delight instead of pain. On her tanned arm, she noticed small, green spheres, dozens of them. "Ahh...what would be...*GRUNT* in the best interests of the plant? *NYAHH*" She steeled herself against the erotic onslaught, clinging to reason, to intellect. "Plants use....other creatures...animals....as vectors....for pollinaton....these....green microspores....must have....reproductive function...*RHAAAH!*" Lisa brushed her face, the spores were tiny but she could just barely feel them. "But...this plant....exaggerated female organs....could these be....ovum? Some new spore? Ehh....No....no they can't be spores....or ovum...they're absorbing into my skin....nnnh...*AUUUHHN!* No plant spore will do that." But before she could come up with an alternative explanation, the eleventh orgasm was fully upon her; seizing her will and drowning her mind in an ocean of carnal surrender. But that was when her mind exploded. Suddenly, her awareness, her perception, her comprehension was widened by a dream-like altered state of mind in which her very soul seemed to be flying. Even though Lisa Sorrentino was lying on the moist, jungle soil in a sweating heap, her mind and sensed seemed to be traveling the world, experiencing life through the eyes of every other living thing. She was the Cycad bush, felt all that the plant felt - but she was also the velvet worm crawling upon a broad leaf - she was the poison-arrow frog hopping through the underbrush in search of insects. And more....she was the seagull searching for tasty mollusks; the Golden Plover on an epic migratory flight to the Antarctic. An ostrich running from a cheetah... she was the President of the United States; then a stripper/prostitute flaunting her charms in an El Paso tittie bar....she was a Great White shark in the ocean depths. A tube-worm probing for nutrients near the hot vents of a mid-ocean rift...and more...more...the past....Lisa could see; feel the Earth's remote past. She was a saber-toothed tiger caught in a tar-pit, a giant ground sloth eating leaves....further....a pteranodon snatching a fish; an allosaurus snatching a pteranodon; further...deeper....She was a 12-foot long amphibian carnivore eating a dragonfly with a 3 foot wingspan...deeper....a trilobite mating with another of its kind in a primordial ocean....backwards...backwards....she was all of them, at once, and they were speaking; not in words but in strong, emotional impressions that were as clear to her as though etched in stone. She knew...she could see the meaning....see the purpose now.... Lisa tore angrily at the athletic bra that encased breasts which throbbed, swelled, and rose up with preternatural fecundity. She had to return to nature, cast off the hateful conventions of clothing and propriety. She could feel her flesh changing, flowing. Her sexual centers had become seething cauldrons of ever mounting passion. She arched her back and grunted as her chest jutted forward; as though larger, riper breasts were attempting to push aside her own normal C-cups. Inevitably, great mams as large as the ripest grapefruit expanded into fullness upon her chest as the last strap of the needless fabric was torn aside. Her cargo-pants where the worst. Lisa thrashed violently to rid herself of pants and panties; her sex must be free! She must not, if at all possible confine her womanhood in garments ever again! She stopped short as she was kicking away the last of her pants; her socks. There was a pulsing, tight pressure beneath her....no...it was her ass! Her already shapely butt was rounding and inflating into perfect, voluptuous hemispheres. Unsure what changes might occur next; she writhed naked in the dirt; allowing her body and mind to morph and mutate; shifting into whatever form was her destiny. She placed a hand into her engorged, enlivened pussy; to easily masturbate her sex that dripped with the juices of arousal. It was clear to her now; at last! Lisa now had the ability to contact a global super-mind; an over-instinct. It was a half-mystical reality in which all living things, and those once living all shared whether they realized it or not. Change, it told her. End the pollution, the consumption, the imbalance. She must smash the dead things; destroy that which was not green and red and growing. She must bring back a world of flesh and feeling, closer to nature. She must dominate the human race; which was at once the problem and the solution. She had been given a body that would prove intensely attractive to human males; and she would use the most basic of all instincts to bring down the threatening, unnatural civilizations that wounded the planet. There was a sharp, powerful hiss directly in her ear. Moving with a speed she didn't know she possessed, Lisa found herself in the upper bough of a thrity-foot tree in less time than it took to say it. What the! How had she moved so fast? She had just covered forty feet of distance, most of it up a tree trunk with such ease that she was not even breathing hard! And what had been that noise? Eyes sharper than what she'd possessed as an eighteen-year old studied the nearby bushes. A small, non-poisonous black snake was slithering through nervously. Its hiss had been so loud, so clear! All the jungle sounds where magnified enormously now; and the creature that had been Lisa marveled at the rich bounty of sound and sensation that now surrounded her. She exulted in her toned physique glistening with a warm, fragrant oil from her her engorged, DD-cup boobs to her chiseled abdomen towards the sleek power of her statuesque legs. Naked, strong, free....as she should be. Others...she must give her gift to others! Immediately, she though of all the men in her life who were even modestly attractive. A flaming euphoria tingled inside her as a roaring lust arose in her mind and flesh. She suddenly felt an overpowering need to mate with every man, any man with a hard cock! Lisa almost fell from her perch as her consciousness reeled with the fervent craving to couple. The once- repellent notion of the thousands of lovers she would soon take sent an electric thrill boiling through her blood. In shock over her new attitudes, she clenched her moist pussy as though covering it would limit her licentious cravings. Lisa felt what can only be described as a weight of the unborn; as if countless multitudes of individuals depended upon her for their births and lives, it was as if the compounded reproductive instincts of an entire species were gathering inside her sex organs. And she dared not disappoint. To fulfill her new, salacious mission, she would dedicate herself towards enticing as many men as possible to orgasm inside her womb. It was a rampant, uncontrollable estrus that by its very nature could never be satisfied....but that didn't mean she wouldn't have fun trying! Men....sex....strange; the Over-Instinct that she had merged with gave her the sense that she must seek out legions of men because once a man had spurted himself inside her pussy; she knew he would never be able to do so again. How odd? What did that mean? She felt, sensed, knew it to be the truth, but why? It didn't matter; she would trust her instinct. How silly it seemed to conduct useless protest marches against despoilers when she now had a far more direct means of causing change. First, she would collect Dylsia. Then, they would return home. Easily, the she- creature that had been Lisa Sorrentino performed a twenty-foot long standing leap to a nearby tree limb while barely needing to squat down. Such feats were simply normal to her now, in this new enlightened, empowered, eroticized form. Covering distances worthy of an Olympic pole- vault with quick ease, she sniffed the air as she traveled until she could trace the scent of her young graduate student. ********** Part 4: Booby Trap The attack was as swift as if was unexpected; Dylsia never saw, never suspected the presence of the beast which pounced. Strange, she thought as she was sent tumbling through the dirt from the impact, the reports she'd read had not indicated and jaguars or other large predators in this particular region. Yet here she was, flat on her back, auburn-bronze hair tangled around her elegant face while pinned to the ground by a creature of awesome stealth and incredible strength. "Nnnnahhh....." odd; the moan of this beast sounded almost human; like a woman. But then, there were hands upon her, strong hand that tugged upon her denim vest and undershirt. She was pinned, and felt herself being unceremoniously stripped! For now, it was all the embattled Grad student could do to grunt with dismay as the clothing on her upper body was torn asunder with an audible pop. That was tough denim! What on Earth lived around here that could be strong enough to - *SHRRRRIPT* Apparently, something that was also powerful enough to rip her pants to shreds in one tug! Damn, that was her underwear too! Dylsia's young body was pressed into the dirt, with no garments besides her hiking boots. Think, girl! Think of something! What could this be? Was she about to get eaten? The only creature she could think of that might be capable of this was some large Silverback gorilla; yet they should have been too far south to encounter such a primate! But out of all the creatures of this size with opposable thumbs, only an enraged gorilla could be strong enough to.... - no...couldn't be....it certainly was no gorilla. Whatever was pressing her into the dirt, it had no body hair to speak of; just slippery, hot skin. Nothing like the fur an ape would have. Was it...a man? Maybe, but a man should still have more hair than this, and she felt no penis between the muscled legs of her captor. Instead, she felt - "UNHH! What the f- " Impossible! Yet there she was. Dylsia had been flipped over, to lie on her back, facing her tormentor. It was no ape, no man, she was all woman. And a more spectacular woman the young latina had never seen. This she-devil straddling Dylsia had the toned and sculpted physique of a woman in peak physical condition who could not decide whether to be a star fitness model or a triple-X porn queen. Those bobbing, ripe, tear- drop shaped boobs seemed fit only for the most salacious entertainment. It was not only the shady color of her wide aureolas, each close to the diameter of a drinking glass, nor was it the engorged girth of the mams themselves, though each could easily have contained the entire volume of Dylsia's Mountain Spring drinking water bottles, no...there seemed to be a subtle, perverse innuendo about each breast, as though with unspoken language the hooters were whispering promises of libidinous indulgence. How was Dylsia to know whether this sultry bitch aspired to be an athlete or whore? A model or stripper? She seemed ripe for any profession that admired female beauty. And from the feel of the wetness on her attacker's skin, the glistening sheen reflected in the diffuse light peeking through the jungle canopy; Dylsia concluded that perhaps this woman practiced oil-wrestling while trying to decide whether she should make a living on the Runway, or on her back. But the most incredible, most awesome quality was her face; it was a face much like that of....of Lisa? Dr. Sorrentino? Well, like Lisa Sorrentino if her professor had spent five hours in a World-Class beauty salon, perhaps. The natural shading and soft curves of her eyes and face had an ethereal grace that should only be possible under the care of a premium beautician. Certainly, not here in the jungle. Why had Dylsia not noticed the face immediately? In a flash, she realized that she too, had fallen for the trap that so easily embarassed men; her attention had been riveted...fixated upon these spectacular tits. But unlike a man; she yearned not to fondle, but to possess. Her jealous-lust was even stronger than a man's carnal lust! Why could she not have been granted breasts of such bounty!? "D-Dr. Sorremmphfff*!" She murmured, as the objects of her obsession were thrust into her mouth, nipple past her open lips. "Don't struggle; it'll be over soon." Assured the sex-creature that had once been Lisa. "It will be soooo much more pleasurable if you don't fight it." But how could Dylsia fight? How could she resist the sublime current of liquid delight pumping into her mouth in hot jets of sugary bliss? No, it was not milk that came from Lisa's breasts; it was much like a sweeter, richer form of honeysuckle nectar with a mollasses-like undercurrent of flavor. How could the Grad student fight against the narcotic wave that came next? How could she repel the insinuative euphoria that burned in her blood, and pickled her brain? No, she would not fight. The best the young latina could manage were a few gyrating thrusts of pure pleasure. Dr. Sorrentino had been her teacher and superior in academic matters, and Dylsia Jimenez could not help but trust her implicitly; and now....in this new....condition, the younger woman felt an instinctive urge to yield, to submit herself to the clearly dominant female. The rational, human side of her brain was scared, concerned. But the creature, the bitch within her succumbed to a form of herd instinct, and the coppery- haired girl instantly accepted Sorrentino as her teacher and superior in this new area, as well. But soon enough, Reason too had to surrender; Lisa was stronger, faster, immesurably sexier. And all struggle ceased as the girl released herself into complete acceptance of whatever her Professor was doing, whatever her Professor had become. The two females writhed naked on the moist soil of the forest floor, the dark-haired wildwoman on top suckling the younger, and soon began to stroke her head and soothe any lingering fears. "Yes...that's it....good....accept it....yes...You'll feel them soon; you'll feel all the voices, all the fears and feelings of everything alive on the planet." The defeated Grad student voiced a scarcely audible grunt as she opened wide her mouth to accept yet more of the soft, nectar-releasing breast. "The orgasms will start within seconds....yes! I felt it! That was your first! The hormones in the nectar are making you receptive....yes....as the spores, the ovum replicate inside your tissues, there will be an intense erogenous stimulation. And each sexual climax will permit the spores to grow faster." Lisa held Dylsia tightly as the girl bucked and thrashed in ecstasy. In moments, the transforming student disengaged from the firm nipple, already having consumed far more than the needed dose. The thing that had emerged from the mind and body of Lisa Sorrentino smiled with a mother's pride as she beheld the changes, as she beheld the descent of her protege into a grunting, lust-drugged state of semi- conscious animal rut. Just as Lisa had been. She knew that the girl had been sensitive about her small, flat breasts, and it would be interesting to see how...ooh, that was her fourth orgasm...it would be interesting to see how long it would take before the expansion of the girl's boobs came to match her own. Already, the tense nips had swollen past the size of grapes, and as her nipples continued to harden and lengthen, mounds not unlike strawberries began to thrust upwards into view. The latina's golden-brown peaks began to throb intensely, as her fourth orgasm began to wind down amidst a flushed face, hoarse breathing, and an increased wetness as her lower lips readied themselves for something, anything male. But the sexual explosions would continue; the infectious agency ravaging her cells would send her into heights of rampant ecstasy that no human mind should be allowed to experience. But Lisa, and soon Dylsia would be so much more than human, even as the girl's blossoming breasts were now attaining a more noticeable girth as they rounded out into forms of like size to a small tangerine sliced in half. But even in her stupor of lust, passing in and out of consciousness as the magnitude of the sensual onslaught battered her brain, Dylsia was still able to see, feel, and observe for brief instances the voluptuous expansion occuring upon her chest. In seconds, she could behold the rising peaks of boobflesh emerging into her field of view like inflating water balloons, bigger...beautiful.... "B-boobs....bigger..." she breathed. "You will be magnificent!" assured Lisa, but her student didn't hear her, having passed out again from the vice of impossible pleasure that had seized her mind and flesh. Holding her naked, sweaty, transforming student, the New Lisa decided to play a game; as the rampant mountains of envigorated titflesh widened and lengthened, Lisa squashed them with her own impressive mounds. She reveled in the feverish heat on the naked skin of her young captive as their nude, glistening forms wallowed together in the dirt. She held down Dylsia's boobs with her own chest, felt the growth, felt the swelling juggs pressing, pushing against her intimately, both breasts beginning to widen outwards to the sides from the pressure - before rising up to release them. The golden-brown boobs on the students chest rippled and jiggled, finally settling into the size of soft, pliant baseballs. "Wh-wha..." Another brief moment of consciousness as Dylsia's brain grappled with the orgasms. "Be silent, and let the Change run its course." commanded New Lisa, who promptly released another spurt of nectar into the girl's gaping mouth. That calmed her down. Breasts...nipples...squeezing, pressing, the younger pair of mammaries vying for dominance. "One....Two....." Each second-and-a-half, there was another deep pulse from the enlarging baby-feeders as both boobs struggled against their opposites. "Three....Four.....RELEASE!" Impressive! The jiggling globes were now slightly wider than coffee-cup coasters, and there were...yes...four...almost five inches of height...the student was now easily a D-cup, and less than an hour ago, she hadn't even worn a bra! But it was not sufficient; not enough to satisfy Lisa. Her instincts told her what to do next. Reversing roles, Lisa now puckered her lips and fastened them onto the ruddy-red, hard nubs that crowned her protege's impressive mammaries. And Lisa sucked, and sucked. She knew that this form of stimulation sent a signal to the brain that could activate the response she wanted. Yes...*SLURP*, *MMPH*, "EYAAAHH!*, *SLMFF*. In between sucks, she ran her tongue in a figure-eight between the aureoles, down into the deepening slopes of cleavage, towards and around the other breast; blowing cool air onto them. Teasing, tugging, tickling....stimulating...until finally.. "YES!" There was the tiniest mote of sweetness, a burst of honeysuckle. The ovum-spores had completed the infectious cycle, and Dylsia's now gra