Chapter 25

Flotsam

Chapter 25: Snatch

I thrust my body against Bluebell to the rhythm of the loudly chugging milk machine. She’s propped up in bed with milking cups attached to her four breasts and udder, and I’m riding the larger alien cow woman, my ass on her udder and my face urgently pressed to hers. Bluebell moos loudly and forces her wide tongue into the pussy slit on my face, stretching my cunt and licking the entirety of my oral clit, inside and out. My face explodes in pleasure and I gasp through the nostrils behind my ears and moan electronically. The quicksilver Grey techno cocks in my ass and pussy vibrate faster, more urgently, and HAL-E’s holographic grunts fill the room. I gasp and shudder, nearly overwhelmed, and grab Bell by the horns and smash our mouths together, fuck her face harder. Bluebell moos, bucks and orgasms again, driven wild by her milking and by the huge silver equine cock that HAL-E is plunging into her cunt. Bluebell grabs my plush ass with her long blue fingers, squeezes it so hard it hurts, and I feel her ropey tail lashing away beneath me, batting my thigh. Oh fuck I’m so close! I’m trying to hold back, to tamp it down and let it build, to deny deny deny until everything blows at once! But, oooh fuck! It’s too much! Bluebell swirls her tongue in my mouthpussy and I see spots, almost collapse against her. Tiny quicksilver drones zoom around me and latch onto my nipples, envelop them, and suddenly I’m being milked too, sucking, tugging, pulling. Fuck, me, fuck! No, no, no! I feel the starry tingles in my ass of a rogue anal orgasm threatening to go, and I squirm my hips, fight it off. But then I almost lose it again as I feel HAL-E’s big cock spasm and spray her hot silvery science spunk into my cunt. Fuck! I gasp a deep breath and try to desperately hold onto the edge, think unsexy thoughts about calmness and tranquility. Bluebell sucks my facial clit while thrusting her tongue along the roof of my pussy, using her inhuman lingual dexterity to press hard into the ridges of my clitoris. I… I… I… lose control! I feel all my cunts spasm and clench in a flash of pleasure that makes me squeal and writhe before collapsing onto the soft mammaries of Bluebell. 

The milker continues to chug.

“This one opined that you would not be able to outlast the milker.” Bluebell pants smugly, her big black eyes warm with affection.

I groan and bask, too melted to argue.

“What’s the score, like 9-0 for us?” HAL-E asks as she merges her penile components into a single hovering metallic sphere.

“I…” I blow out a breath as an orgasmic aftershock ripples through my cunts, “I th-think tha-at was my re-record…”

“You were not even close to enduring.” Bell observes happily, patting a tit still being emptied by the milker.

“N-n-noo regrets…” I whine and shiver through another aftershock. My whole body feels too sensitive, like I’m entirely made of one giant clitoris. 

Bluebell strokes my hair, still panting a little from having her teats milked. “What does our new client need with so much moooo-ilk?”

“No idea,” I mumble into her tits. It isn’t even a lie, I really have no idea why Gan Ceann ordered so many gallons. 

A tiny hologram of HAL-E manifests with a vaporous pixel tail connected to the floating drone. She grins, “Knowing something about what happens in that house, I bet it’s totally perverted!”

“Mooo! This one demands knowledge of the details!” The milk machine chimes and stops pumping and Bluebell starts to delicately remove the long milking cups from her breasts.

“Of course,” I say, leaning forward to kiss Bell on the forehead, leaving a sloppy pussy mark like a baptism. “If it’s something boring, I’ll make up something filthy for you.”

Bluebell snorts and tickles me, and I roll off her onto the bed. “Deceitful Earthling,” she says with a laugh, reaching down to unfasten her udder. “You begin your new enterprise tonight, correct?”

“Yeah…” I say, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know why you want to work for those awful Naiad,” HAL-E mutters. “Isn’t the milkmaid business enough for you?”

“Says the one of us running in parallel. How many sapients are you fucking right now?”

“Not the point.”

Bluebell stretches happily on the bed. “This one thinks it is a wise decision. Dear Halley-24 is so fresh to the world! She should attempt many new endeavors to learn about herself and her interests.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling shitty about misleading Bell. “This gig is nice because it’s at night so it doesn’t interfere with the dairy deliveries.” I do a silly little debutante pose, “Plus I get to go to some fancy soirées.”

HAL-E puts her tiny hands on her ghostly hips like an angry genie, “Well, I think you should just focus on the milk thing.”

“Mooo! You could always join this one on the lactation line.” Bluebell shakes her udder provocatively. “There is always a need for more product!”

“Whaddya say Halley?” HAL-E says, morphing her holographic body to have four big tits, an udder, and cute little cow horns. “Moo!”

I roll my eyes, “You two are in-cow-rrigible.” I pick up a magic space towel and start to clean off my sex funked body. “Say, HAL-E, seeing as how I'll be working for a diplomatic mission and all, would you mind turning down the Nanny-spyware for the day? Not that I don't trust you..."

"But you don't want to piss off your new watery overlords by being a listening post?"

"Exactly."

"Your wish is my command," HAL-E says while crossing her arms and doing the I Dream of Genie blink, "Privacy Mode Activated."

"Thank you." HAL-E de-manifests and the Grey drone flows back into a silver ring that wraps around my finger. I give the ring a little pussy kiss and go to find my milkmaid clothes...

***

"So what is all the milk for!?" I demand of Gan Ceann as we sit around an elegant circular table waiting for Samonavar to arrive. 

 "It's for an art project!" Gan Ceann says merrily.  The headless woman taps her fingertips on the polished wooden surface of the table and a hologram screen manifests in front of me. I'm looking at a greyscale image of Gan Ceann, Halley-12, with her black rubber coated body bound and dangling from a rope. Her legs are tied together at the ankles with roughly textured rope and her arms are restrained behind her back. She is hanging by her legs with her headless shoulders suspended just inches above the ground. "Swipe," Gan Ceann purrs, and I do, revealing another black and white photo of a bound Gan Ceann, this time kneeling with a complicated ligature that crosses her shoulders like an X and artfully binds her arms in three places. I swipe again and she is beautifully hogtied, and again and she is lashed to a chair. Image after image of Gan Ceann in elaborate distress flash across the screen. The photography is technically very good, but the shots are oddly flat and wide. I've seen much more interesting bondage erotica before, with moody perspectives that break the scene down into sensations. A bound wrist. A straining back. Legs held together. A naked pussy helplessly exposed. Gan Ceann's images are documentarian somehow, passionless records rather than art. Like a catalogue of perversion. Proprietary. "What do you think?"

"It's certainly provocative?" I guess. "But how does the milk fit into this?"

"We’re holding an exhibition of Sam's images," Gan Ceann says, gesturing to dismiss the photo gallery. "We bought a big clawfoot tub and I plan to fill it with milk and take a nice long bath while our guests enjoy the art show. We have to maintain my cover as a sexual plaything after all."

"I see." I imagine Halley-12’s shiny black body immersed in an opaque white pool, only her tits and the smooth line of her shoulders breaking the surface, or maybe just her ass and pussy and the soles of her feet. I wonder how long she can hold her breath or if she even needs to breathe. I shake my head and smile; my exhibitionist sex slave clone is going to pose nude in a bathtub full of my lover’s breast milk. Bluebell is going to love hearing about this!

I hear a throat politely clear and presently Sam arrives. “Halley,” he says nodding politely to me. “Darling,” he says to Gan Ceann, accepting her imperiously outstretched hand and kissing it rather too intensely. “I apologize for my tardiness, I had to fetch something for our caper.” 

“Excellent,” Gan Ceann says clapping her hands. “Then we can begin. Halley, is there anything you need to know?”

I frown, quickly catalogue what I know about the plan, and realize I’m pretty in the dark. Okay, so, best start from the top, right? “What’s the Serpent’s deal? She’s the Dragon right, which is some kind of judge?”

Sam adjusts his glasses, “Interim Dragon, actually. And yes, the Dragon is essentially an arbiter who settles disputes between the Reptilian Clan factions on Flotsam.” Sam makes a gesture and a hologram appears above the table like an organizational chart. “The Reptilian Empire is organized into something like a Senate.” Three dots in the centre of the chart brighten. “The Executive Power is held by a Triumvirate made of High Matriarchs from the three most powerful Great Houses.” An outer ring of nine more dots glow. “Then there are nine Lesser Houses that make up a legislating body that creates Imperial Laws and has the ability to overrule the decisions of the Triumvirate.”

“Checks and Balances.”

“In theory,” Sam nods. “However, historically this system was defined by power imbalance: the strongest Great House would control a majority voting block in the Senate and bully the Triumvirate into subservience, effectively creating a de facto Reptilian Empress. Which is essentially what kicked off the Grey-Reptilian war.” Sam pauses and clears his throat. “The spectacular failure of that gambit caused a leveling of power among the Great Houses which has created something of a stalemate in their politics.” The organizational chart grows lines linking one central dot to three outer dots. “At the moment each Great House controls three Lesser Houses and refuses to compromise in the Triumvirate. Each High Matriarch thinks she can become the next Empress."

“Why does this matter?”

Gan Ceann steeples her fingers, “Because it explains The Serpent.”

"Quite." Sam picks lint off his fussy jacket, "Flotsam is a very important planet for illicit commerce, which means all the major Reptilian Houses have an official criminal presence here. To prevent any sort of escalating conflict between Houses, the Triumvirate has installed a Dragon to keep the peace on Flotsam.” Sam examines the lint and flicks it to the floor. “Typically a Dragon is a highly ranked Matriarch, usually chosen from one of the Lesser Houses, the position granted as a bribe or boon, but the current political gridlock means the Triumvirate will not collaborate on choosing a new Dragon.”

Gan Ceann leans in, “Which means that when the previous Dragon was assassinated, one of her Lieutenants was able to take control of the Flotsam Network.”

“And this Lieutenant is The Serpent?”

Sam nods, “Allegedly.”

Gan Ceann shrugs her headless shoulders, “Some of my contacts think The Serpent is a fiction or figurehead, and that the Flotsam Network is really being run by ambitious male Reptilians or human agents. A way for the disenfranchised to get ahead.”

“When I talked to Halley-17, she made it sound like there was an actual individual Serpent in charge of her… experience.”

Gan Ceann rubs her hands together, “Interesting…”

“Regardless, the Serpent has slithered herself into a precarious position. She is very capable and useful to the Triumvirate, so her power grab has been tolerated, at least so far. She's also an outsider, which doesn't upset the power balance, but this leaves her with limited resources and allies.”

“All the High Matriarchs think they can gain influence over her and make her work for them.” Gan Ceann brings a fist down onto the table, “Or that they can easily dispose of her, and replace her with their own stooge.”

“And so the Serpent is playing a very careful game of balancing the Reptilian Houses against each other, consistently being useful without allying herself too closely with any one Reptilian House.”

“Basically she’s balanced on a knife edge.”

“Okay,” I say while frowning at the table. “Why are the Naiad going to smuggle me in?”

“Because the Serpent is trying to play them off the Aquarians and it pisses them off.”

“Aquarians?”

Sam makes a gesture and a hologram of a giant mass of squidy tentacles appears surrounded by what look like mermaids. “The Naiads and Aquarians are the two most powerful aquatic sentient species in our corner of the Universe. They’re locked in something of a colonial cold war, particularly over the possession of water planets in Reptilian Space.”

“The Naiad are really good at chemistry and produce a lot of drugs, both medical and recreational, so Flotsam is an important hub for them.” Gan Ceann says. “They had an understanding with the previous Dragon and don’t like being fucked around by the Serpent.”

“But why help us?”

Gan Ceann lifts her hand like she’s holding something, “Because maybe you find something that blows up the Serpent’s spot and fucks her over.” She lifts her other hand, “Or you get caught snooping in the compound and embarrass her for lax security.”

 

“Isn’t that risky for the Naiad?”

Gam Ceann makes puppets of her hands, “What!? One of us was snooping? Who! Halley! She’s new, only hired her as a favor to the Embassy. She’s a down on her luck clone. Can’t trust clones after all, very dodgy. Why of course you can torture her!” The hand puppets mime looking disappointed, “It’s incredible that the Serpent would allow this to happen inside her own Pyramid…”

Sam nods, “Plausible deniability.”

“So I’m on my own.” That sucks.

“Just don’t get caught,” Gan Ceann says headlessly.

“And to that end,” Samanovar declares while making arcane command gestures. A hologram of a black reflective glass pyramid with glowing edges appears in the center of the table. It looks so much like that casino in Vegas that I’m left wondering if there’s a connection. “The Dragon’s Pyramid.”

Gan Ceann does an itsy-bitsy finger pinch, “It’s a small pyramid by Reptilian Standards, but still one of the largest buildings on Flotsam.” 

Sam makes a gesture and the pyramid goes translucent and becomes a 3D floor plan of stacked blocks. “The pyramid has four above ground levels.” A big double tall block in the heart of the diagram starts to glow. “There is a large atrium in the core of the building. It’s two stories tall and serves as the Dragon’s throne hall, the space where petitioners would traditionally come for judgement, although this practice is antiquated and thus far the Serpent has used proxies like Halley-17 to pass along her judgements.”

“Which is a big part of why we thought she could be a fake.”

Sam nods and the other ground floor blocks light up. “The rest of the first level is comprised of court facilities: offices, private meeting spaces, conference rooms, and the like.” The second floor highlights. “The second level is devoted to suites for the Serpent’s most trusted lieutenants, however there is a public balcony that should be open to you during the gala.” A small area in the floor plan glows. “There should also be access to the top levels here, which are comprised of the Dragon’s private apartments.” 

Gan Ceann counts on her fingers. “Level 1: the courtroom, level 2: the lieutenants, level 3 and 4: the Serpent.”

“Got it.” I suck thoughtfully at my facial labia behind my facemask. “You said four levels above ground, which must mean there’s a basement.”

“Quite.” Sam gestures and two additional underground blocks appear in the floor plan. “We have dramatically less intel about the subterranean space. We gather there are two levels and that the first is made up of a barracks, servants quarters, kitchens, and interrogation rooms, but we don’t have an exact layout.” Sam frowns and adjust his glasses, “We believe the lowest level has longterm storage, holding cells, and an armory. We also think it’s where the Dragon’s vault is.”

“How am I supposed to get all the way down there? I doubt that’s open to party guests.”

Gan Ceann makes an imperious gesture and two areas on the pyramid light up, one in the lowest basement and one near the top. “The Memory Crystal might be kept in the vault, but my gut tells me that the Serpent keeps it up top in her quarters. I bet she has a personal stash there in case things go tits up and she has to slither away.” Gan Ceann rubs one of her breasts thoughtfully for lack of a chin, “You said the Serpent was personally involved in securing the Memory Crystal, and that it’s some sort of blackmail, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what Halley-17 told me.”

“Then it’s exactly the kind of thing I’d want to keep close to me.”

I stare at the two potential locations for the Memory Crystal, one below the pyramid and one near the apex. I drum my fingers on the table, “How am I supposed to know where it is?” I look at Gan Ceann and Sam, “And how am I supposed to get to either place?”

Sam grins shyly and produces a small metal box, “That’s where this little device comes into play.” He pops open the box and presents it to me, revealing a thick metal ring. I pick the ring out of the box and balance it in my palm. It’s surprisingly heavy and wide enough to nearly cover the top joint of my pointer finger. The band is a dull gunmetal that's inlaid with arcane circuitry and crystals and a flowing web of liquid quicksilver. It’s very pretty but I suspect it’s more than just jewelry. “What is it?” I ask.

“I called in a rather large favour from one of my senior Ürnaut contacts and had them build us a covert insertion platform.”

“A thievery MacGuffin,” Gan Ceann translates.

“The device is calibrated to detect the quantum emissions of the Memory Crystal and lead you there by tactile cues.”

“The ring is a dowsing rod for the Black Box,” Gan Ceann sticks out a fist and waves it around. “It’ll vibrate when you’re pointed the right way, then just follow it hotter-colder to the objective.”

“Okay,” I nod. That’s one problem solved.

“The device should shield you from Reptilian electronic surveillance, but won’t help you elude sentient observers.”

“Ring of Stealth +1, not a Ring of Invisibility.”

“The device can also align your subatomic probability fields in opposition to material objects for infiltration exploits.”

I blink and look at Gan Ceann, “What?”

“The ring will let you walk through walls, darling.”

“For a very limited number of times. That little trick has a high energy cost, and the power-plant on such a small device is inherently limited. So use it judiciously.” Sam frowns, “Also be aware that the energy cost rises exponentially as distance increases.”

“Use it on thin doors,” Gan Ceann says, “Not thick walls.”

“Okay, so the ring will tell me where to go and let me phase through doors.” That’s helpful. 

“It can also rapidly download the contents of the Memory Crystal. Simply touch the device to the objective and you will have the entire archive in less than a second.”

“Steal the data not the Black Box,” Gan Ceann instructs primly.

Okay, that seems like a reasonable plan to get me there. “How do I escape?”

Sam smiles regretfully, “Ideally you’ll have gotten the data without being observed and can simply leave with Embassy.”

“And if I get caught?”

Gan Ceann holds up her hand and points to the finger I wear my HAL-E ring on. “Then I’d invoke my personal guardian angel to rapture me out of there.”

I frown, “That seems like… an abuse of her trust.”

Gan Ceann shrugs, “You’ll be in terrible danger and honestly, I think she wants to know about the contents of that Memory Crystal too.”

“Shouldn’t we at least ask her first?”

“No. As much as I’d value her help in this endeavor, her governor programming might stop her from interfering. The less she knows about our plan, the easier it’ll be for her to rescue you if it comes to that.” Gan Ceann runs a hand along the unbroken smooth line of her shoulders, “I think this is one of those times where it’s better to ask for forgiveness.”

“Okay.” I push the Ürnaut ring onto my left pointer finger and blow a puff of air out of the slits behind my ears. “I get into the Pyramid with Embassy, find the Memory Crystal with the magic ring, and either sneak out or escape.”

Gan Ceann does a little golf clap, “Bravo.”

“I guess all that’s left is to go see Clem about a womb upgrade…”

Fuck.

***

I’m standing outside Clementine’s little apartment feeling so nervous I could puke, which seems like it would be awful to do through a cunt. I’m scared about the Shaping, of being transformed again. My mind keeps flashing back to the Sleeping God and the wonderful, terrible feeling of being physically warped by my own corrupted imagination. I shiver, will this be like that? Like the perverse hunger of the Sleeping God? The eradicating bliss of the Grey Artist’s aesthetic? The uncaring numb mechanism of the Ürnaut penal system? Or will voluntary Shaping feel different? Nice, maybe? It will be with Clem, Clementine, someone I trust and maybe still love, or whatever. Could Shaping be beautiful? But oh fuck! Clementine! I fight down another burble of anxiety nausea. I’m not ready to deal with that either! What are we to each other? What do I want from her? Well… maybe more importantly what does she want from me? We’ve barely even talked! Is having her rework my womb for alien accommodation really the right signal to send? Hey babe, we should date, but also I want extraterrestrial slime living in my cunt! And oh Jesus, before this Clem was fixing up my new pussy face! She must think I’m a freak! Why didn’t I talk to her sooner? When I was still pretty old human me. I’m starting to hyperventilate, air rushing through the slits behind my ears and blowing out my cunt. I make myself stop, close my eyes, and take three deep breaths before I faint. I feel my racing heart start to slow. It’s going to be okay…

“Are you going to stand there all day or come inside?” I see Pussy perched behind an open window watching me with her green feline eyes. “I don’t really care, but you should know you look quite stupid.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” I open my eyes and glare.

Pussy rolls her eyes and lashes her tail, “Just go to the door, it’ll open for you.”

I glare at the catgirl and walk up to the space-hatch apartment door, which opens to me with a bright “Hi Halley!”. I step through the tiny airlock vestibule and into the main living space where I’m confronted by Pussy standing naturally on all four paws, her tail twitching. She tilts her head and studies me, and then slinks around me, brushing against my legs with her naked skin.  “Take the facemask off, I want to see.” 

“Why?”

“Mrrrow, I’m curious.”

“Isn’t that dangerous for cats?”

Pussy sniffs, “Be that way.”

“Where’s Clementine?” I ask, eager to be away from my porno kitty doppleganger. 

“In here!” A musical voice sings from the bedroom. 

I head that way and find Clementine perched on her bed folding laundry and looking radiant. Her long silver hair is clipped up in a sloppy bun that shows off the elegant curve of her neck and the lacquered swirl of her ram horns. She’s wearing an oversized black t-shirt that doesn’t quite hide the swell of her three breasts and skintight tiny shorts that show off her wide hips and the bulge at her crotch. She has her digitigrade legs tucked up under herself and her long tail rests limply on the floor. Clem puts down the lacy panties she’s folding and smiles brightly when she sees me. “Hi.”

“Hey yourself…” My heart is racing and I’m suddenly way too happy to see her. I blush and try to think of something to say and notice Clem’s black t-shirt has a knockoff flying saucer graphic that says I WANT TO BELIEVE. “X-files, huh?”

Clem composes her face very seriously, “The truth is out there.”

I giggle, maybe a little nervously, and she grins. Clem looks so casual and at ease and sexy, effortlessly beautiful and in her element. She somehow looks like Clem-the-boyfriend, although the big tee and shorts outfit looks much better on her than it ever did on him. It’s a striking contrast to the last time when I saw her all dolled up in a formal dress for her fancy client. “I guess I don’t get the VIP treatment,” I say playfully trying to flirt.

Clem’s eyes go wide and she gestures at the neat stacks of folded clothing on her bed. “What do you mean? This is the cleanest my bedroom has been in literally years!”

“I’m honored,” I say with mock gravitas, thinking about the heaps of dirty floor laundry I’d seen in her bedroom before. I run my fingers through my hair and smile with my eyes, “I’m also impressed you actually learned how to fold a shirt.”

“I’ve become sophisticated,” Clementine stretches her body in a way that makes my heart flutter and other parts of my body tingle. The mystery of the loose UFO shirt only makes me want to see her tits more, somehow. “I’m not quite the slob you lived with in the trailer park.”

“No. No you’re not.” You enchanted creature. “But you’re bedroom is still usually a pigsty.”

“Guilty!” She says with a laugh. Clem tilts her head and purses her full lips. “How are you?”

“Good?”

Clem shakes her head and looks sheepish, “No, I meant, how are you getting used to the, you know…”

“Pussy on my face?” I touch the holstein cow-print facemask I’m wearing.

“Yeah.” 

“Oh…” How am I doing? “I’m getting used to it, I guess? Eating is still an adventure, and I don’t really like being exposed in public, but I don’t hate it?” I blush and wonder how much Clementine can see, “It’s really fun… in the bedroom. There are times when it feels like it’s worth the trouble.”

“That good, huh?” 

“You have no idea.” I slip a finger under the earstrap of my mask; should I take it off? Clem has seen my new face already, probably studied it pretty thoroughly when she did her damage control Shaping. Besides, if this is ever going to happen between us again she’s has to like how I really look. I might as well show her and get it over with. I slowly peel the mask off my face, baring my pussymouth to Clementine: clitoris, labia, and slit. “I wanted to thank you for your help. All those little changes really made this more manageable.”

Clem stares at the cunt on my face with intent fascination. I try not to squirm or tun away, to be confident with my obscene face. She looks curious, interested, and is that lust in her eyes? Does she like it? “I’m glad I could help,” Clem says, forcing herself to make eye contact again, “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“It’s okay,” I smile with my eyes, dimpled cheeks tugging on my labia, “I’m getting used to it.”

Clementine nods her head thoughtfully, like Clem used to when he’d understood something important. She daintily swings her cloven hooves to the floor, moves her tail out of the way, and pats the bed next to her. “So I have you scheduled for an Aquarium Job today, right?”

Oh shit! My uterus to alien womb conversion! Ugh! I stammer, suddenly embarrassed by why I’m here, “Yes, but…”

Clem giggles and waves a hand to stop me. “It’s cool, it’s cool. The Naiad are frequent clients of mine, and being their vessel is an okay gig as long as you can, well, stomach the assignment,” She grins at her little joke. “And Embassy is a straight-shooter.” She shrugs, “It’s far from the worst job on Flotsam.”

I sit on the bed next to Clem, too aware of how close she is. “It’s only a trial run,” I murmur while avoiding eye contact, “I’m still looking for my place here, and I thought this could be a way to see a different part of Flotsam.” And also my ticket into an alien crimelord’s fortress for a secret mission.

“Mmhmm,” Clem says, her mind elsewhere as she thinks. “I’ll need you to lay down on the bed and take off your underwear.”

“Um?” Take off my panties?

“Think of it like a medical exam.”

“Oh.” Administered by my extremely hot ex who I’m totally crushing on. Simple. No problem. 

“I’m not going to do any… penetration. It just helps me visualize what I’m Shaping if I can see your body.” She gives me an apologetic smile, “It’s hard to explain.”

“No it’s fine.” Clem is already staring at my face cooch, I might as show him the original too. I hitch up the skirt of my gingham dress, and slip out of my underwear, dropping them to the floor. I squirm onto the bed and lay on my back. “Okay.”

Clementine climbs onto the bed and kneels among the folded laundry. “Can you lift your skirt up higher?”

“Yeah.” I poke my Keyband and command my dress to relax, making the garment go from snugly fitted to loose like a hospital gown. I lift up the hem and bunch it up around my breasts, leaving my body bare from my chest to my toes. “This okay?”

“Perfect.” Clem gently takes my legs and lifts them, bending them at the knee and spreading them so my pussy is exposed. Looking up, I can see her crouch over me like a lover. She chews a plump lip and her eyes trace over my flat stomach, wide hips, and the mound of my enlarged, prominent pussy. I feel a flush of heat deep in my body; it feels like she’s about to go down on me. I can feel myself getting wet. “This might feel a bit intense,” Clem says, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say, almost with a gasp.

Clementine tucks a stray lock of silver hair behind her horn and stares intently at my pussy. She blows out a slow breath and I feel a strange warmth flow through my stomach. “Mmmm,” she hums, leaning closer to me and concentrating. She reaches out with a slender finger and I feel tingles race through my flesh and swirl like Clem is magnetic. She moves her finger through the air and my guts grow warmer, a sensation like glowing, and I feel a cringe deep in my core, like a period ache but not painful. Pins and needles spread through what must be my uterus and I squirm, suddenly aware of the exact dimensions of my womb. “Okay,” Clem whispers and then she touches me right below the navel and I moan as a flare of pleasure erupts inside me and races down my vagina. “Jesus!” I gasp and try to close my legs, but Clementine is between them and her palm is flat on my stomach and waves of heat and sensation are boiling through my cunt. I close my eyes and bite my lip and fuck it feels so good! Like my whole cunt is being massaged from the inside! Clem places another hand on my stomach and I feel my insides begin to change somehow, not swell or move, but become qualitatively different. Transmutation within the pounding waves of sexual pleasure. I’m panting and I can feel my pussy, my pussies, all engorge and swell, hungry and wet and needy. Clem’s face is pinched with focus and she’s breathing hard and sweating, her shirt damp and clinging at the chest and arms. “Tricky,” she grunts. I moan and buck my hips, desperate to be fucked, driven wild by the relentless stimulation. Clementine moves one hand lower and cups my swollen, boiling, gushing pussy and I mewl and grind my achingly hard clit against her. Clem’s body clenches and I feel my insides shift, actually change shape a little, become something new. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I gasp. Clem wipes sweat from her forehead and then sits up, quickly pulls her shirt up and off, her three perfect breasts falling pertly free, her long silver hair knocked loose and wild. Her three dark nipples are tight and hard and exquisite. She grabs me tightly by my wide hips and leans forward and like she’s about to… But instead she presses her forehead to my belly and the roiling storm in my body intensifies, multiplies, explodes! I yelp and try to buck, but Clementine holds on and uses her body weight to press me down onto the bed. I flail my legs and knock her laundry piles over, scatter to them to the floor. The pleasure is endless, constant, incredible! Fuck! But I’m caught on the edge! The awesome stimulation is somehow too diffuse to orgasm. I need to fucking come! I need to! I jam three fingers into my mouthpussy and start fucking my face, use my other hand to frantically rub my facial clit! Fuck! I’ve lost control and fuck I can’t stop and Clementine is on top of me like a lover and I can feel her tits on my thighs, her hard nipples on my skin, her gasping breath on my cunt, and oh fuck all the sexy alien feelings happening in my cunt and FUCK!!!! “Ahhhhhnnnnngghhhhh!!!!”

***

I blink my eyes back into focus and see an angel smiling down at me. She’s perfect, radiant. Her messy silver hair hangs down and frames our faces and her three tits are brushing against mine. “Beautiful,” Clementine says.

“Wha?” I pull my slick fingers out of my facial cunt.

“You’re beautiful,” Clementine says, smiling and blushing a little.

“Oh,” I’m blushing too.

“The Shaping is done,” Clem says and I feel fingers gently stroke my naked belly. “It was a little tricky to work around your other changes, but we got there.”

“Mmmm.” Did we ever. “Felt nice,” I say.

“I could tell,” Clem says with frank attraction in her eyes.

“We should do this again.” I say without really thinking. I blush and feel Clem’s tail brush my leg.

“We should.” The tail strokes my calf.

I feel my vulva tingle, I want to kiss her. And why the fuck not? “What about right now?”

Clem laughs and kisses me on the forehead, her lips warm and soft. “I think you have a diplomatic engagement to get to…”

“Oh right!”

***

“You’re late,” Embassy says, arms crossed under her enormous chest and above the bulge of her massive, pregnant-looking belly.

“No I’m not,” I say, because I’m perfectly on time.

“Well you aren’t early,” Embassy grumbles. Halley-15 looks more pregnant than ever, her body swollen enough to be carrying a dozen children or maybe a baby elephant. She is dressed in another skintight cerulean swimsuit, probably crotchless. She has a short sarong tied around her hips for modesty and an iridescent gauzy robe draped around her shoulders. “Punctuality is preferred.”

“Noted.”

“Come along, we don’t have time to waste.” Embassy turns and leads me down a familiar hallway to the large pool where I first met her. She waddles and puffs her way over to a table holding a stack of folded clothes. “Outside clothes off, swimsuit on.”

“Um?”

“Quickly.”

I turn my back to Embassy and tell my clothes to relax. I step out of my loosened dress, and remove my bra and underwear. I take a deep breath and peel the facemask off too, and then pile my garments on the table. I pick up the swimsuit, a mint green one-piece, the fabric feeling cool and slick in my hands. I give it a tug and it stretches effortlessly before relaxing back into its original shape, like a perfected futuristic spandex. I squirm into the swimsuit, slipping in one leg and then another, stretch the suit wide over my wide hips and ass, before pulling the straps over my shoulders. I adjust my tits and go to fix the crotch and notice it’s split open and totally exposes my cunt. “Nice.”

“I would have thought you’d be past feeling shy,” Embassy says, nodding at my vulgar face. She sees me scowl and looks slightly apologetic. “Anyway, come sit on the edge of the pool and open your legs.”

“What?”

“If you want to infiltrate the Dragon’s Pyramid you’ll need a passenger onboard.” She pats her enormously taut belly. “We need you to look the part, after all, and there might be scanners at the door.”

“Oh.”

“Just relax and think of something sexy.” Embassy blushes a little, “It’s not unpleasant as long as you steer into it.”

“Okay….” I cautiously sit by the edge of the pool, legs tucked up tight, the ass of my swimsuit instantly damp. Up close the pool has a briny funk like the ocean and I see the bottom of the pool is covered in sand and has coral and seaweed growing from it. I squint looking for signs of the Naiad, maybe a motion flicker of unexplained currents or a discoloration in the water, but I don’t see anything. Am I really about to do this? It’s way too late now. I take a deep calming breath, scoot closer to the edge, and slip my legs into the pool, which is warmer than I expected. I brace myself on my hands and slowly kick my legs in the water. “Now what?”

“Spread your legs.”

I swallow heavily and fight down a burble of anxiety. You can do this. I force myself to open my legs, spreading them as far as they’ll go, exposing the swollen bulge of my pussy to the surface of the pool. I shiver, less from the cool air than nerves. Think sexy thoughts! I scramble for a fantasy; what’s hot? I think about the Shaping, the intense pleasure of having my pussy remodeled, and try to daydream about Clementine’s magic flowing through me again. I feel myself starting to warm up, my heart beating a little faster, a nice tightness in my belly. I see the surface of the pool ripple, watch something invisible create a little wake. The Naiad. I bite my lip, try and fend off a need to panic. Think about Clem, think about Shaping, think about Clem taking off her shirt and showing her incredible tits. The strange current skims across the pool and stops just in front of me, swirling into a little whirlpool, and then coalescing into a bulge that raises above the water. I take a deep breath and fight the urge to snap my legs closed. I can do this, I can do this. Fantasy Clementine, naked now, still touching me, massaging my belly, pleasure arcing through me. Mmmm. The Naiad pushes itself into a column, a liquid tendril aimed at my cunt. It looks hesitant, uncertain. Is it nervous too? I try to look inviting, spread my legs wider and scoot closer, ass half in the pool. Come on already! I imagine Clementine crawling on top of me and touching me with her hard cock, using it as a focal point for Shaping, an especially magic wand. I’m wet and fuck it, steer in right? I reach up with damp fingers and start to stroke the pussy on my face. Mmm yes. My original pussy is wet now, in two ways, and ready to be filled. The Naiad seems to get the hint and stretches and oh! Something wet and warm is touching my labia. I close my eyes and pretend it’s Clem, rubbing her cock against my hungry pussy. “Yesssss…” I feel the Naiad flow up and around my hips and a wet pressure build against my slit. I stroke my facial pussy faster and try to pretend it’s Clementine, but the flow of warm water is too different, the sensation is wrong. I gasp and feel pressurized liquid push into me, penetrate me. It’s too weird! But…. What if it was still Clem? In my imagination Clementine becomes transparent, becomes a woman made of water, and she’s still trying to fuck me, but her cock isn’t solid, it’s a liquid tendril. A liquid tendril she is pushing into me, pumping into me. I moan, yeah this works! I feel the pressure on my cunt increase and feel my pussy stretch open, forced wide, and I gasp! Oh. Ohhhh… The fluid pushes in further, warmth and force flowing up my vagina, stretching it so wide, filling it completely. “Fff-ffuckkk…” I’m fucking my facecunt and juices are dripping down my chin. I feel the Naiad, no Liquid Clementine, bottom out inside me, but then push further, splash through what must be my cervix and into my womb, a sudden burst of warmth like cum! I gasp and feel myself orgasm! Buck my hips and moan! But the sensation is different, the hot spray doesn’t stop, it just keeps coming, more and more hot liquid is flowing into my belly, my womb. I gasp as I suddenly feel something new! Something alien! I open my eyes and see my stomach start to swell! A reverse waterfall from the pool flows into my cunt, and my belly bulges like I’m pregnant and just starting to show. Oh fuck! Oh it feels so good! I groan and come again! I pull my grool slick hand from my face and rest it against my tummy bump. It feels hard and warm and oh fuck, it’s still growing! Another orgasm rips through me and I feel my belly grow and grow and grow! So taut and round and hot! Fuck! My belly is so big! I can’t see my cunt anymore! Just the top curve of my bulging body! I must look six months pregnant! Oh fuck! Oh Jesus! And then with a shivery sensation I feel the penetrating flow cut off, my vagina suddenly empty, but my womb still so hot and full. I moan and lay on my back, legs still in the water, huge belly stuck out above me, panting. “Oh fuck….”

Embassy chuckles, “You’re a natural.”

“That was…” I gasp, “…Intense…”

“Don’t get too comfortable, you aren’t done yet.”

“What?”

 “You have two more to go…”

***

“Calista! You absolute bitch!”

Calista giggles, “What? She had it coming!”

I’m traveling in the back of a sleek floating limo thing along with six other very pregnant looking “Consulates”. I’m nervous and uncomfortable and I really need to pee. I squirm and try to find a comfortable way to sit that doesn’t squish my bladder. “Ooof.”

“It takes a few times to get used to it,” the woman next to me says warmly. She’s middle-aged and has a kindly round face with smile wrinkled eyes. She gives me a motherly pat on the arm. “Just remember to breath and take it slow and you’ll do fine.”

My hands stroke the ninth-month-plus bulge of my inflated stomach, “It’s just so big…”

“You know, you don’t have to wear your veil till we get there,” the woman across from me accuses. She has frizzy red hair, a gap in her teeth, and a cheap officiousness. I self-consciously touch the veil over my face, a convenient part of the Consulate uniform that hides my pussymouth. “Um?” I say.

“Oh chill the fuck out Plam,” says a striking woman with the matter-of-fact demeanor of a seasoned sex worker. “Leave the new girl alone.”

Plam crosses her arms above her pregnant belly in a huff and Motherly gives my arm another pat, “It’s fine to be shy, although you shouldn’t feel bad about working as a Consulate. It’s a good job.” She reinforces her eye wrinkles with a smile, “The Naiad pay well and it gets me out of the house for an evening.”

The striking woman lets out a filthy laugh, “It’s certainly the most honest work I’ve used my pussy for.”

“Ahnja!” Plam scolds.

Ahnja grins and rubs her swollen belly, “Way better snacks too. Love a canapé.”

Another woman with a deeply freckled face and earnest eyes says, “I’m just glad to be part of the Naiadine Mission.” She strokes her alien bulge tenderly. “It’s nice to contribute to something bigger than yourself.”

Ahnja rolls her eyes, “Suck up.”

Calista laughs, “You just want a full time job working for Embassy!” Freckles blushes and Motherly gives her a sympathetic frown.

Ômné, the petite Naiadine functionary, claps her hands for attention. “Alright ladies, cut the chatter! You all know the rules: once we arrive you all become Consulates. You are living vessels for the Naiad, so you go where they tell you, and you do so quietly. No more socializing,” She gives Calista a pointed look. “Do not endanger your charges or cause a diplomatic incident.” She smiles, “Enjoy the snacks, but in moderation please. Absolutely no alcohol or narcotics.” She gives each of us a cutely stern look, “The security word is Angola and the escape plan is Scarlet.”

The other pregnant-looking women all nod and repeat “Angola. Scarlet.”

The flying limo arrests and thumps onto its landing gear. “Veils ladies,” Ômné says as she affixes her own headdress. “We’re here.”

Fuck me, it’s go time.

***

Chapter 26