Hell's Housewife
Book 1

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Magic, Lesbian, Heterosexual, TransGender, Science Fiction, Group Sex, Orgy, Masturbation, Squirting, Lactation, Pregnancy, School, Transformation,

Desc: Sex Story: Book 1 - Mrs. Sarah Evans Cox is an unassuming, flat-chested, prudish housewife that leads a dangerous, awesome, magical double-life of ballooning boobs, toe-curling sex, and... alien invasions? A dark and disturbing epic.

She didn't want big tits. Her figure, just as she was, seemed perfect for the life she led. Sarah had no use for the great globes of jiggling mammary that those sluts in the magazine had possessed. The discovery of the hidden magazine stash while cleaning had come as a blow to her, as slap in the face! Yet... also a reminder...

Sarah clicked her turn signal as she wove her usual route through the Meadow Heights district on the way to retrieve her daughter from gymnastics practice. The unassuming, red Chrysler minivan reflected the afternoon sun upon its placidly glistening surface, contrasting with the turmoil of the driver. There could be only one explanation: Jason was the only male in the house; Sarah's husband was the only possible culprit.

She furrowed her brow while brushing aside a stray whisp of her grey-tinged, auburn hair, patting back the neat bun her tresses were bound into. The disgruntled P.T.A. mom knew that she was hardly a supermodel, she did not match the beauty ideals of the consumer age, even if she were younger. Yet still, Jason hadn't given her even a hint of dissatisfaction. Just last night, their impassioned love-making had been as intense, as responsive as ever, perhaps even moreso than usual. But with no other males in the Suburban townhouse, the big-titted girly mags could not have come from any other source.

Had she been a fool? To think that mere love could compete with silicone-infused mammaries large enough for those ditzy blondes to wear as helmets? Well, the magazines were the extent of Jason's crimes so far; and... she shrugged. Some women thought it was no big deal. For some wives/girlfriends, it was acceptable for men to have a stash-- so long as nothing else came of it. Sarah chuckled cynically; with the secrets buried in her own past, certainly there was no call to--

"AHHNHH!!" A wave of fiery agony swept through her! "What the..." She examined herself, the jolt of pain felt as if her dress had ignited! But no, the same knee-length, conservatively cut, floral pattern with nary a bulge across her flat chest was there. Was that the reason for Jason's wandering eye? Were his genuine feelings being submerged beneath the irresistable male fixation on the female breast? Sarah's non-existent cleavage could not hope to hold the interest of a true Breast-man, was that the-

"URRHHH!!" The Pain! Again! A palpable aura of feverish heat flushed through her entire body with lightning intensity. Had Sarah been just a few years beyond her mid-forties age category, the explanation for hot flashes would have been obvious. And yet... while her body held little in the way of youthful vigor, she knew now what this was. It was no natural cycle of life, she'd known this sensation before, long ago.

The minivan lurched on the road as the jerking, tingling sensation assaulted Sarah's chest. Arching her spine, she grunted as the wave of painful pleasure swept over her; it was starting. The breast growth left no possible doubt. The tense thrusting of her suddenly erect nipples created visible tents in her dress. There was no bra, Sarah was not one of those women who felt she needed one to be truly female; her flat-chested figure did not require it.

But that meant that now, there was nothing to stop the rampant, ripening expansion of her breasts. As usual, the growth started first with a rapid burst of growth that propelled her bustline into a shape like small pancakes, barely an A-cup. But Sarah knew what was next, the searing waves of throbbing heat as burgeoning teats continued to enlarge. It had all happened before; and there was no escape!

But how much time did the blossoming housewife have? She examined herself carefully in the Van's rear-view mirror. Within moments, skin tightened, her eyes seemed to grow narrower, sharper, with a darkening around them, as if she'd been applying eyeshadow. But already, the crow's-feet that surrounded eyes and mouth smoothed out in less time than it took to say it. She was youthening more rapidly than normal. She might have been a woman in her late twenties by now!

But her hair, her hair was writhing inside the restraints that kept it in the tight bun, by now all traces of gray had vanished, and the auburn strands were shifting in color towards an orange-red. With a grunt, her breasts jiggled; having expanded past A-cups, the erect nipples soon lengthening into a strawberry shape, rounding and plumping into apple-like sizes. It was as if larger, sexier mammaries were forcing their way outwards through her chest; a fiery, erotic lava seemed to be pouring into her bosoms, enlarging as they sensitized, jiggling as juggs ripened from a mere orange size through and past the girth of grapefruits. Her growth slowed down only slightly as ample breasts reached a vast, fluid grandeur too large for her to hold in hand, breastflesh pressing against her forearms as she gripped the steering wheel.

No time now! She HAD to pull in! Struggling to focus on the road as her body became progressively younger, bustier, and hornier, the wetness from her heating cunt rapidly dampening her panties. Jerking the wheel, her minivan swerved into Save-N-Munch, searching out the most remote parking space available in the supermarket lot.

A strand of silken, blood-red hair fell over her eyes as she slithered into the backseat, pulling down the front of her dress, to try to minimize the damage down by her outsized orbs. There was no stopping it; the Compulsion was too powerful. She would have to resolve the situation as soon as possible, but she couldn't let the changes consume her!

"I... will not forget who I am!" Sarah declared, as her labia began to quiver with desire. "I am Sarah Evans Cox, I am a forty-five year-old wife and mother!" Yet the eerily smooth perfection of her seamlessly beautiful face could not have belonged to a woman over thirty. She wrapped her arms around her ribs, as the fiery waves of painful pleasure seared her skin, while quivering bosoms swelled upwards against the resistance of her arms, creamy valleys of raw tit pressing up against her elegant chin. "I am Sarah Evans COX! I WILL NOT FORGET!!" She insisted.

But when her fingers seemed to lengthen, when she felt a slicing sensation along her shoulder blades, she knew there were mere moments before-

"YAAAHAAAAAAAHHHH!" The burst of flames, sparks, and oily smoke would stain the minivan interior for weeks, but Sarah had other problems...

The combination of pain and pleasure confounded the senses, as they did with every summoning. But then, the Frenzy hit. Sarah felt a throbbing pulse of volcanic heat between the moist folds of her slippery cunt. Her lower lips bulged and swelled, a fiery craving radiating outward from her womanly core that would only grow more intense as the seconds passed.

Sarah rose up to her full height, stretching her toned, powerful muscles. There was a nervous quiver in her crotch, much like the sensation of a vast penis penetrating her, but only a brief, tantalizing taste. Her skin shivered with a sensation similar to that caused by a hard, hairy man pressing up against her naked frame. Her taller frame.

She now stood well over 6 feet tall, almost 10 or 11 inches over. Hers was a statuesque body with just enough toned muscle to convey the appearance of optimum physical health, yet the soft curvature of hips, thighs, and jutting breasts aroused the basest of male instincts.

Emitting a low snarl that resonated to menacing effect, Sarah stretched, and opened wide her red and black bat-like wings. Harsh shadows like sword-points raised in defiance spread across the smooth cement floor upon which the summoning circles had been inscribed.

Eyes that glowed with a blood-red malevolence within her hauntingly elegant face surveyed the cool, cement chamber. Nearly 150 feet in all directions were barren, cinderblock walls. Bare metal frames that looked like they might once have been bookcases were scattered in the northeast corner. A library no doubt.

"Dude! This crap is for real?!" exclaimed an uncultured voice from outside the tertiary warding circle, which was drawn with surprising skill; whoever summoned her this time had done their homework.

Her legs moved like coppery-skinned towers of feminine grace as she approached the boundaries of the summoning circle, her red tail swishing languidly between her powerful thighs. Not the silly, arrow-head devil's-tail men drew in myths, hers was flexible, but it ended in a point more like that of a scorpion. And she didn't have hooves, just blood-red, elongated claws on hands and feet.

The fierce horror of her hellish anatomy would strike fear into the hearts of the most resolute, yet the voluptuous splendour of her ample femininity triggered a fiery lust in men that warred with their original fright. Most often, the lust won. Smarter men down through the centuries had fled screaming into the night even as their pensises lengthened to full erection, to masturbate from afar.

"Esh' Ult-kra' athrah! Esh' Ult-kra' naka thok! Sarai'erothkok!" Rasped a thin, waifish Goth-girl with white face-paint, nipple rings revealed on her bare, pert breasts, clad in a nightmarish riot of leather belts and fish-net stockings. Candlelight played across her painted face as she strained to pronounce words in a forbidden language whose speakers had been exterminated for witchcraft in a primordial age before the Egyptians raised their Pyramids.

But more disturbing than the girl's fashion sense was the fact that she knew Sarah's Truename! Moist lips curved in a predatory smile, revealing sharpened teeth as Sarah spoke.

"I have familiarity with the Modern English Language, you may address me in this tongue." Her voice had a husky, feminine allure with a thundering undercurrent of diabolical menace that echoed throughout the library basement. Impressive; these humans were far more learned than the last bunch of bunglers. Sarah was becoming more interested. Her porcelein face appraised the mortals, the ethereal perfection of her face and form reflecting no trace of the aging features of the 40-something housewife.

Goth-girl nodded slightly, and repeated her earlier greeting, this time in modern english.

"We summon you in humility; We summon you with respect; Sarai'erothkok!" Began the sorcerous waif, her brown eyes wide with admiration and terror alike. "We apologize for summoning you away from your dark realm of fire and torment!" she added.

"If you only knew, Human."

"Those narrow-minded cowards! The whole point of the test is because we don't know anything about it!" Dr. Linda Cartwright silently admonished. Her colleugues kept insisting that they needed more information on the cells, that her proposal was too invasive, too risky when the research team could determine nothing with certainty about the cells. But that was the idea! To learn enough finally to build some theories and write the reports!

The South Weddel Microbiological Research Initiative had isolated the ice-core samples nearly a month ago, long shafts of glacial frigidity chock-full of unusual cellular structures that had been on ice for eons. Possibly since the 'Snow-Ball Earth' ice-age nearly 700 million years ago, Dr. Cartwright surmised. And it was a rare and serendipitous shifting of the Antarctic glacial ice-sheets that revealed this unexplored layer, with cells unlike any yet known.

But the problem was, after weeks of experimentation, they had learned almost nothing definite. The cells were purple; they had structures that might contain an equivalent of chlorophyll, but... purple? Their architecture was baffling: The surface was festooned with tubules, injectors, and attachment points, much like what one would expect of a virus. Yet, the clearly delineated organelles made it clear that these were cells of a living, multi-cellular species. But what?

They'd done PCR, spectroscopy, chromatography, E.L.I.S.A and every sort of immunoprecipitation assay they could come up with, but no matches to any known species! The proteins that they isolated from the samples had no discernible function, and did not match any known protein families. It was in short, enough to make Linda a believer in UFO's! The samples matched nothing, at least nothing on Earth!

She loosened the clip that bound her mouse-brown hair and turned her hazel eyes towards a plasma screen tasked to a nearby scanning electron microscope. The computer display showed a perverse hode-podge of loops, whorls, and pointless twists and turns drawn in a single, purple line. Similar to an unfinished protein, yet the strange bodies inside the cells were not made of conventional amino acids, but rather Thymine? Outside the nucleus? It made no sense, but there it was, and that was the only molecule found that any molecular biologist could recognize.

If Linda's calculations were correct, (and they almost always were!) She could get a protein with demonstrable function if she could somehow form connections between these bizarre Thymine loops. And the only way to do that was by bombarding the sample with a burst of ultraviolet radiation. But the others! They wanted less invasive, more indirect tests first. After all, we don't know what we're dealing with. Linda made a pantomiming motion with her lips to mock the mantra repeated time and again by the Director, as he tried to moderate her enthusiasm. But she hadn't made it this far by being a shrinking violet; she had already resolved herself to take the initiative. And after this worked, and their names were all permanently ensconced in the pantheon of biologists, they'd probably try to take credit for what she was about to discover... in about 30 seconds.

A small chip of glacial ice sat forlornly in the isolation chamber under the hazardous materials hood. And... yes, the bombardment had begun! The Thymine loops would form dimers, as the molecules linked with each other under the influence of the U.V. bombardment. Intently, Linda watched the computer monitors with baited breath.

"Now... once the Thymine dimers form, that should complete the Quaternary structure, and this should be a legitimate protein with real, testable function! Heh, probably named after me!" she chuckled. The process was completed even faster than she expected. "80... 90% and... hold on... that can't be right!?" Linda exclaimed, as she poured over the digital data. The small ice chip, which had turned a deep purple, went unnoticed as Dr. Cartright double-checked the readings.

"These mass readings are way off! What could have gone wrong?" It was difficult to say what surprised her more; the implausible readings that flickered across the plasma screen monitors, or the glistening, purple and green-veined tentacle that crashed violently through the hazardous materials glass partition and thrust itself into her mouth and down her throat.

"Dude... is she like... a succubus or something?" asks the spiky-haired, lackwit youth in a tie-dyed T-shirt. The fishnet-clad Goth girl snarled angrily, and turned on the boy.

"Fool! Her kind prefer to be called, Lilim. You must address the Great One properly if she is to grant us our boon!" explained the girl.

"You are correct, human. Succubi are myth; The Lilim are truth. The sex-demon sensuously walked along the line of the summoning circle that bound her, the red, flexible tail that sprouted above the curvature of her ass caressed her smooth, tall legs like a lover's kiss, as it approached her steamy-hot cunt. She knew the role well, and played her part admirably. "And what Boon would you dare to request from Sarai'erothkok, Mistress of Flame and Lust?" She almost chuckled, summoners expected you to add a few boastful nicknames. Goth-girl's eyes widened before she spoke, she was really getting into this.

"Oh puissant Mistress of Flame and Lust, this unworthy mortal would ask only a small, minor gift easily within your great powers. Before speaking of my own needs, I offer up what I hope to be suitable payment for your attentions." The girl's eyes glistened, hands trembled with excitement as she gestured to her left. In an ancillary circle connected to the other runes by intricate circuits drawn in what seemed to be chicken blood, there sat a somewhat pudgy college sophomore tied firmly to a chair. He wore a Sigma-Chi Letter shirt, and the redness of his eyes suggested great fatigue or mental impairment.

"For your payment, I offer the soul of this human, to be your plaything as you sit upon your burning throne of blood and sorrow!" Oooh! How poetic!

"Hey!" protested the proffered sacrifice. "Y-you ssaid... if I sat in th-this chair... I wuz gonna get laid!" he insisted. His speech impediment suggested severe intoxication, confirmed by the pungeant aroma of cheap whiskey.

"And so you shall, Fool! Do not speak again!" demanded the painted girl. Smiling sheepishly, she again regarded the imposing sex-demon. "In addition, my assistant promises one year of service if you will grant him a boon at the conclusion." Sarai'erothkok was growing impatient; she was already late to pick up her daughter from the high school, she had to move quicker in order to get back to her life. The Mistress of Flame and Lust also had a P.T.A. meeting at 6.

"Your wish?" she demanded in a harsh whisper filled with veiled menace. Goth-girl shuddered as she spoke.

"I wish to be... forever young and beautiful! I wish to appear as you do! And to never age! I would ask for beauty as you possess, that will never fade with age!" Years of longing trembled in the girl's voice as she spoke.

"Easily done, come forward and embrace your boon!" Unable to leave the circle, Sarai'erothkok had to lure the humans to her. With equal parts lust and trepidation, the waifish girl entered the central summoning circle. The Lilim laid a delicate hand over her nipples, and red eyes flared with power. With a burst of sparks and brimstone, every stitch of leather and fabric the girl wore disintegrated, leaving her naked before the bosomy embrace of the sultry demoness.

Female flesh pressed together, as Sarai'erothkok ravished the waifish girl in a perverse coupling born of hellish lusts. Overwhelmed and overawed by the daunting power and greater size of her illicit lover, the girl could do little more than twitter and squirm as the Lilim thrust her elongated tongue into her mouth. Clawed hands swished and poked at precise nerve centers and erogenous zones, engulging the girl in erotic sensation even as pliant, vast breasts engulfed the human's head.

Her mortal prey yelped in both pain and glee as the pointed tail neatly speared her cunt in a precise, perfect penetration. This was of course, the primary purpose of the Lilim's tail. The sharp, wicked implement could actually be manipulated to provoke spasms of erotic stimulation unavailable from a mere cock. And further more, the sharp tip contained a potent erototoxin that Sarai'erothkok was now injecting into the human, paralyzing her with delicious ecstasy for hours on end.

It began with a burst of blood-red light from the girl's own eyes, as her bones and flesh shifted, reformed, enlarged. Writhing against the terrible beauty of the demoness' feminine curves, the waifish girl grew and throbbed with hellish energy. All the while the tension, the stimulation assaulted her every sense with carnal cravings. Shuddering, the girl ground and thrust her hips against the barbed tail, as the pleasure of a dozen dildoes ravaged her mind and body.

"Oh no my pet; you will not climax until I wish it!" hissed the Lilim. Centuries ago, the hellish creature had mastered the sexual organs of both genders. For men, it was too easy; she had absolute control the moment a man dared to thrust his penis into her hot sex. But for women, she had needed a few decades to learn ways to manipulate her tail so that like males, females also were helpless before her. Lilim spent long hours practicing upon their own cunts in anticipation of the need to dominate a woman. She could do more tricks to a man with his penis inside her, but nonetheless, once her obscene tail penetrated a vagina, all hope was lost.

"Drink," ordered the Mistress of Flame and Lust, as a turgid nipple was thrust into the girl's face. The demon-breasts were wobbling mounds of unlikely buoyancy, with nipples perched high upon the erect globes, each easily the length of one of the goth-girl's college textbooks, and very nearly as wide as dinner plates, with no hint of sag. Perfect, impossible mammaries to tempt the unwary. Quivering with frustration, the human latched onto the pink nubs, and jets of sweet, hot milk drenched her throat. The demonic lactation was scaldingly hot! Very near the boiling point of water! Yet a perverse delight suffused the human even as she felt her tastebuds dying. A lurid slurp filled the air as the unwholesome suckling continued, the human burying her face into the vast bosom of the hellish harlot, relishing the hot steam that poured from her nose as the girl drank down the infernal milk.

The changes accelerated at a pace faster than the males could easily watch. Legs and thighs toned and expanded, a ripe ass filled out with plump femininity. Dark and slick hair fluffed and sprouted into a luxuriant mane of cascading flame, flowing down to the small of her back: just as it did on Sara'erothkok. The human disengaged from the spurting teat of the demon as she felt her own breasts filling out. She shimmied and shook her torso as waves of pleasure accompanied the jerking and throbbing expansion of her own previously unimpressive chest. Great swells of tit blossomed in the fleshy valley between the chests of the two females; the dominant boobs of the demoness were being rapidly challenged by the jiggling, thrusting advance of the enlarging mammaries of the human prey. In mere moments, the two matched. Pussy for Pussy, Breast for Breast.

"Beautiful... young... forever!" breathed the transformed girl; steam still flowing from her mouth and nose from her scalding meal of demon milk. Errant droplets from Sarah's nipples sizzled as they hit the cement. But now, now her human lover had been transformed into an exact, physical replica of the Lilim herself! She did not have the wings, tails, or claws; but in terms of human anatomy she was a precise match. Sarai'erothkok dug her wicked tail deeper into the vulnerable female flesh. As her lower lips clenched wetly against the red intruder; a sluice of female ejaculate heralded each terrific thrust.

"NOW, you may cum... forever..." hissed the demoness; as a solid wall of pure pleasure rose upward through the girl's body. With each second, it was as if a wave of ecstasy was rising higher and higher through her flesh; reaching pelvis, arms, breasts and head. Her last scream of long-awaited orgasm became a hollow echo as her flesh transmuted into pure, pristine white marble.

"She did want her beauty to last... forever! Now it shall." explained Sarah. "All too easy; mortals must be more careful in the phrasing of their wishes." There now stood an exact statue of the demoness, minus her extra anatomies, yet seemingly carved in the purest, finest marble. An obscene sculpture of a porn goddess in a moment of spine-tingling orgasm. And with the pressure created from the tail inside her sex, there was now a permanent opening between the folds of her frozen pussy; large enough for a cock perhaps. The Lilim wished she could be there when the owners of this Library discovered the perverse object the next day.

But like so many men, the young male assistant, found that he could run away. Despite the horror of what he'd just seen; the sheer lustful majesty of the demon slut was too compelling; brain fought a silent war with his cock as he tried to edge away, and masturbate all at once. But first she claimed her prize:

Effortlessly her inner folds manipulated the hot, male rod thrusting within her. The drunken, Sigma Chi was doomed the moment his penis became erect; and with practiced grace from more such encounters than hairs on the boy's head, the steamy cavern of drooling lust engulfed his manhood, rapidly seizing control of his every thought and desire. The spiky-haired sorcerous apprentice, gasped in longing; broad chest heaving beneath his tie-dyed shirt. His flinty blue eyes riveted with awe upon the spectacle of the demoness straddling his friend's crotch as he sat tied to the chair; cackling with manic, libidinous glee.

As her demon-tits heaved, encircling Sigma Chi's head and concealing his ears with each lurid thrust, her flaming red eyes bored into his soul.

"You could live for one hundred years; and never know this much pleasure with a mortal woman." The whimpering screeches of delight from her latest prey attested to the truth of that. Forcing his inevitable doom from his mind, spiky-haired boy leapt forward; clasping a hefty, ripe boob, and began to suckle.

"EMERGENCY EXTRACTION! I REPEAT; EMERGENCY EXTRACTION!" Howled the voice of Linda Cartwright over the powerful radio. After a few moments of tense static, a hesitant voice replied.

"South Weddell Microbiological Research Initiative, you are not scheduled for another drop until-"

"WE HAVE WOUNDED! I REPEAT WE HAVE WOUNDED! THE FIRE DAMAGED MOST OF OUR SUPPLIES!" Yet Linda's face belied such fears; her lips were in fact twisted into a wry grin. The lush cascade of her bronze hair spilled luxuriantly over ripe, pert breasts at least three times the size of her previous C-cup chest. Her statuesque body reclined in resplendent nudity, as she ran a delicate hand over the thick bulge of her taut, pregnant belly. Almost as if on cue, a surge of obscene, sensual bliss tingled along her spine, and she gave a throaty moan that to any audience, might have sounded like deep distress; but was in fact a response to the enhancements in her body. Her plain stature was ripening, lengthening, and firming into a stunning form that Linda was unclear whether she more resembled an Amazon of legend, or a World-Class Supermodel. Of course, no Supermodel would pose in excess of 9-months pregnant with... with what?

Her gravid womb rippled as the unwholesome spawn surged within her. Any fears, doubts, or suspicions had faded away within seconds of the impregnation. The floodgates of a primal, potent race memory stretching back incalculable eons had overwhelmed all previous trepidation. Honestly, the creature that had been Linda Cartwright felt a little embarrased that she had actually been afraid when the alien tentacle had thrust itself down her throat, to infect her with what was no doubt a potent blend of retroviruses, catalytic enzymes more powerful than anything modern science had ever dreamed; and her Destiny.

The Goddess lay back in a churning nest of purple, glistening tentacles that now sprouted and hung from every corner of the laboratory. She was still recovering from the shame of not embracing the unearthly mentality of the alien species the very instant that the Infectors penetrated her brain. She shook her head in sadness; the old Linda had actually resisted for two seconds as her neurons were penetrated by the new biology. How foolish that she should value her old personality over this new glory!

"And you were foolish Director, for not unleashing the potential within the samples sooner!" She insisted to the squirming, naked man hanging suspended between numerous purple tentacles with held his fast as they penetrated every orifice. The fearful 'deer-in-headlights' expression on the middle-aged researcher's stunned face seemed to denote passionate disagreement. Well no matter; there were many things she could do to this one, so many.

The Plane would arrive ahead of schedule; there was no doubt of that. From their to the Airfield, and there to the larger airports until she had reached the city. Almost any city would do. Whichever was close.

From the corner of the laboratory near the water-bath incubators there came a perverse, gurgling sound. Linda twittered with delight! This was a momentous event! The slimy, many-layered greenish cocoon lurched and grumbled with pestilent promise as its contents became restless. Linda stood, caressing her slick, perfect body. Running her hands from her engorged, naked crotch, across the taut bulge of her motherhood, to tease her bloated breasts; which responded with a quick spurt of hot, sweet milk from erect nipples.

There was a shrill sound like a drowning horse trying to cry out with a snake in its lungs, as the cocoon ruptured; a delicate, feminine arm popping through the rippling tissue. The sickening abomination that emerged looked like nothing so much as a raven-haired strip-club dancer in the midst of a mud-wrestling match. The alien monstrosity had some difficulty slipping out of its chrysalis; using one hand to drag itself forward, and the other hand to masturbate her slick, throbbing cunt. Even with the slime from the cocoon it was clear her aroused sex had begun to release a flood of girl-cum. The horror raised itself on hands and knees to test out its toned, firm, experimental legs. The Spawn had the sort of body that human males dream about, and the mind to make a whore blush. Her round, squeezable ass quivered as the alien hybrid gave an obscene grunt, looking up at her mother expectantly.

Was it all about breasts? That seemed natural. Heather pouted in the front passenger seat as her mother Sarah drove her to school. After a fender-bender with her own car, the Insurance company had complicated the prospect of the 16-year old driving herself. That and the fact that mom was sooooooooo late picking her up from gymnastics yesterday combined to make a generally foul mood for the teenager.

"And what happened in here anyway?" Heather asked in disgust; noticing the burns, and scorch marks in the minivan's interior. Mom had to think fast.

"Well, it was going to be a surprise but... didn't work out that way. I went and bought a load of fireworks for the 4th! But I had a little accident, I guess they were faulty." It was about that time of year, not impossible. Heather noted no trace of the colorful wrappers that often composed fireworks, but suspected that mom had already attempted a cleaning. Her only reply was a disappointed, teenage-angst-ridden "Harumph."

Inspite of her worries, Sarah allowed herself a brief smile. Her daughter would never know that her own mother was in truth a millenia-old demonic entity that lived to destroy men with sex. Heather seemed perfectly healthy, intelligent, and... if she was a bit too sullen, well that's not unusual for her troublesome age. But really, the only trait that might be cause for concern was... well... Heather's profoundly large breasts. They had started when she was only 12, and had blossomed forth beyond all conventional cup-sizes until her youthful hemispheres hung at a size similar to that of a tall salad bowl, when loose her globes were not unlike full water-balloons; but they truly swelled in the tight spandex of her gymnastics outfit. Which was also unusual; girls of such impressive... endowments typically found so much leaping and bouncing all but impossible. Yet Heather never complained, and was fit enough to hold her own in almost any athletic competition. Still, her mammaries showed no signs of slowing down their burgeoning blossoming, but they never seemed to slow Heather down.

As Sarah rounded a corner, approaching the street closest to the parking lots, she dwelt momentarily upon some more disturbing thoughts. Her husband Jason, what was the real reason he'd bought those titty mags recently? Was it... could there be some strange, perverse notice of his own daughter? It all seemed so unlike Jason; after centuries of reading male behavior, studying and manipulating them, there was no indication that his affection was waning. The human seemed completely, hopelessly in love with Sarah's frumpy, flat-chested, middle-aged persona. Of course, it occured to her that she was most certainly a hypocrite, complaining and worrying about her husband's fidelity after what she did with those college kids... But to her, what she did as a Lilim didn't count; when she was summoned and compelled by sorcery, there was little choice in the matter. But what about Heather? Was there another reason for her sulking beyond car troubles?

But she really shouldn't worry; while there was every likelihood that a child born of a Lilim and human would possess demonic powers, Sarah had ensured that her daughter would have a normal life. When pregnant, she'd performed a Nullification Ritual to strip from her developing child all traces of Lilim nature. And then, just for good measure, after Heather had been born, she'd done the Ritual again; making doubly sure that her daughter had no demonic powers or traits, and would seem no different than every other human girl.

While giving her daughter a quick kiss goodbye, Sarah reflected on how proud she was. She was creating a normal, healthy, stable family. Something no Lilim had, to her knowledge ever done.

"Damn! This is almost as good as one of those silly stories about some sex-monster that lures men to their doom!" The doomed man exclaimed, clutching the waist and giving a firm squeeze to the ass of the horror that had seduced him.

"And what if it is?" the sexy monstrosity whispered in her husky voice.

"Heh, you'd be worth it, baby!" Strange, now that he was pressed up against the wall in his hotel room, the woman's clothing seemed to have vanished. He didn't remember her ever taking it off, yet the blue sequined, low-cut cocktail dress was no more, leaving only the sweeping curves and voluptuous bounty of the bronze-haired beauty that had so brazenly come onto him in the bar below.

Trace had never been with a woman that seemed so clearly, completely in lust. In his college days, he'd experienced one-night stands before, but most of the women he'd been with had a more frivolous, indulgent, or mischevious attitude when they'd dropped their drawers. But this hottie... from the fire in her unusual purple eyes, Trace almost got the feeling that... that she wanted this even more than he did! Which didn't make sense; women just weren't wired for this kind of hard-core, frenzied lust... right?

His further reflections were stymied when the impossibly erotic creature tore open his button-down shirt, exposing his broad, hairy chest, his slight paunch, and an appendectomy scar. Not the most handsome of men, yet her craving for him was as intense as his own! Rather than a more conventional kiss, she more of less engulfed his face, red lips locking with his own as her tongue thrust into his mouth, her hands caressing the dark stubble of his unshaven face, occasionally flowing through his stringy, black hair. He had only intended to drown his sorrows over losing Stacy in a few brewskies, but when opportunity knocks...

It was a swift, powerful rut. This woman, what was her name Linda? She hadn't bothered much with introductions, nor did she seem overly concerned with foreplay. So insistent was she that she didn't even wait for him to reach the bed. With surprising strength, Trace was tripped, mounted, and screwed within 3 feet of the bed. Yet the grunting, groaning, jiggling sex-bomb that writhed sensuously atop his cock would not even be denied long enough for just those few steps.

Trace tried to enjoy, to savor her body. He ran his hands over the swell of her hips, above her mons, as her pelvis jerked and leapt in time with her lurid grinding. His roving hands had almost reached her ass when all muscular control failed him. The electric sensation of her slippery, dripping pussy as it devoured his manhood struck him with a bolt of bliss too extreme to allow room in his mind for mere muscle control.

Time seemed to slip away; had it been minutes or hours? At times, the cavernous warmth of her womanhood seemed to engulf his entire crotch as she screwed him past all reason or sanity. In Trace's delirium, it seemed that her already vast breasts were getting larger still, and her face; that impossible, porcelein beauty contorted in savage lust seemed... for a moment her face and features twisted, mingling and churning in a way that was inhuman. But then the eerie expansion of her creamy boobs obscured her protean face as vast, ample teats dominated his field of view. With each jiggle that accompanied the grinding of their wet sexes, globes of pure boob seemed to attain yet more weight and girth.

Her breasts seemed to be twin heads with life of their own, exerting their dominance over his desires. Could Trace do anything but lick the silky smooth skin below a turgid nipple that was surging towards him? He wanted... tried to grope those glorious globes. But in the height of pleasure that had swallowed his mind, he wasn't sure whether it was tits, or ass that yielded under his demanding grasp. His hands knew only soft, pliable, silky feminine flesh.

It seemed to be the sounds that drove him over the edge. Her pussy, what a noisy pussy, it elicited pops, slurps, almost gurgling as his rock-hard shaft impaled the portal to the creature's womanhood. He remembered having the orgasm... he thought that's what it was. And yet... yet there was no crescendo, there was no true climax. They simply rutted like beasts upon the floor... and Trace was spurting into her; he knew that now. He could feel his cock spurting rich jets of seed deeply within her slathering cunt. But there seemed to be no true release. He did not build towards orgasm and then release tension with his seed. It was as if her pussy drove him towards orgasm... and past it. Ever and more stimulation. SSHLUK... SLURP

That pussy, that impossibly talented pussy, it did not seem to allow Trace to have a conventional orgasm, yet it stimulated him far beyond that threshold. As his hands roved over her womanly flesh, he felt himself again spurting into her, but the libidinous frenzy did not diminish! After spewing into her more cum than he had produced all week, the sex-beast seemed moderetaly contented. Her frenzied craving for cock seemed to mellow into more of a passive desire to be penetrated; while Trace's lust only increased. Now, she allowed the male to dominate the mating, allowed him to surge upwards, pinning her beneath his hairy, sweaty weight. SLUNKPOP

With Trace on top, the tempo changed to a more deliberate, reverent copulation. What remained of his sanity knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity that must be savored. Firm breasts squeezed beneath his chest, her nose nuzzled the heavy stubble on his face as she gave him an indecent lick. Hot friction between the mating couple heightened the experience for both.

Trace had stopped questioning the unlikely, implausible nature of this encounter; it was too good to pass up regardless; therefore he merely savored the woman's expertise, he did not question the way her pussy seemed to be moving in different directions simultaneously, teasing and tickling in ways he'd never imagined. He did not question what could have made a woman so horny, so slutty, and gave a small smile when he felt the drenching female lubrication that slathered his entire pelvis in girl-cum. He merely gave silent thanks that she had wrapped her sleek legs so tightly around his hips, to better force his member into her hot tunnel of lust.

It was odd; there was a slight quivering, a tingle and slither in his crotch, in his flesh that he couldn't explain. As Trace's hands gripped the bulging baby-feeders that wobbled beneath him, as an unearthly scream of forbidden glee erupted through the air, at last he found the release he had sought. His clenched eyelids did not notice the purple tentacles that had begun to spread out from the couple, to spread throughout the room.

It was not fear, or hunger that brought her out of the Chrysalis. It was lust, pure undiluted licentious craving for males of a sentient species. It was certainly tempting to remain in the warm, wet, comforting cocoon forever, masturbating her own cunt, but it would never be enough. With a roar and a thrust, the alien abomination ripped through the greenish tissue of the cocoon and dragged herself into the open air. One hand to propel her, another hand to slide in and out of her well-lubricated vagina; as was the way with her kind. She did not bother to examine herself further; she knew that her physical form was optimized to attract the males of the target species, and she hunched on the ground, breathing in the air for the first time since she entered her Chrysalis, and waiting for instructions from her racial memory.

She had emerged! She would go forth and claim males for her own! She would breed and spawn legions! As was the way with her kind. She rose then, the muscles of her new, sleek, feminine legs functioning properly. Her Mother and Queen, Linda was here as well. Mountainously pregnant, as she should be. Her rippling belly was preparing for the birth of yet another womb-sister. But Mother and Daughter shared no words in the conventional sense; once she had torn open her own Cocoon from her own power, she was clearly an adult, able to feast upon the prey species without guidance. Indeed, her violet eyes rolled up into her head as racial memory gave her a plan of action.

The new spawn stepped over the glistening, purple tentacles that were starting to take root throughout the hotel suite, emanating from LindaQueenMotherBreeder towards the various cocoons of her new womb-sisters, and entered the private bathroom. Going through the rituals of commerce in order to purchase clothing was too time-consuming, and the Spawn knew that she would need a large supply of semen within the hour if she was to survive.

Instead, she simply chose a simple bathtowel, wrapping it around her delectable torso in accordance with the local nudity taboo. In a hotel, women wearing bathtowels would not be unexpected. The moisture from her chrysalis combined with the towel gave her an appearance similar to a human woman just emerged from a swimming pool. It was sufficient; her nubile form was much like those women often depicted in pornographic magazines and movies, but the classical features of her face were more like those of a World-Class fashion model. Brief trepidation caused her labia to spasm slightly, but she had every reason to suspect this shape would be adequately appealing.

LindaQueenMotherBreeder had been busy, for She passed several more Cocoon Spawn in the lavish, red-carpeted hallway of this hotel floor. The seventh floor was rife with impossibly gorgeous, slippery wet women who appeared to be in their mid-twenties, wearing nothing but bathtowels. The most recent, dark-haired Spawn passed a stunning redhead with sharp eyebrows and jiggling breasts that held the white towel taut. Redhead unleashed a hypersonic trill with alien organs in her throat. Faster than human speech could register it, the dark-haired spawn responded with a subvocal ululation in acknowledgement. Redhead had been alerted to a large concentration of male organisms, and relayed the information to her Cocoon-Sister.

The pair of sleek sex-pots passed a pale, nordic blond just emerging from room 722. She was wiping her sultry lips as she reapplied her white towel to cover her glorious nudity. The hypersonic chirp she gave the pair warned them; 'HUMAN FEMALES MAY BE PRESENT, PROCEED WITH CAUTION.' Taking the warning to heart, the dark-haired horror stood hesitantly before room 725. Lifting up the bottom of her towel to expose her moist, throbbing labia. Exquisite, unseen sensory organs detected no life signs. Redhead used her own cunt to test 727... reporting only an aged male past his reproductive prime.

Exposing her crotch in front of room 731... yes... here... Dark-hair detected a potent dose of fresh testosterone... a virile male with unmet sexual needs. Her pussy moistened considerably as she sensed his health and vitality. She let forth a subsonic whine for several seconds, communicating a subliminal signal that activated the most primal, sexual part of the prey-race's brain. The blond and redhead entered rooms adjacent to this one, satisfied with the occupants.





"Alright already, I'm coming. Tim Samwell responded to the door. He adjusted his belt and unconsciously brushed his prematurely balding scalp. Despite his annoyance at being disturbed, whoever it was might break the boredom of his latest assignment. Being a P.I. wasn't all it was cracked up to be; and this wasn't his only lonely, bored evening. Man! What we wouldn't give to get a chance with some of that sweet pussy he'd seen in the hallways earlier! He'd... A sudden image of wet cunts and jiggling breasts came to mind. Unbidden, sexual fantasies stirred and churned through his awareness. With a sudden surge of interest, his beefy cock filled with life and strength, tenting his pants as he opened the door.

The woman was on him before the door had fully opened. Wet. Slippery. Sultry. Gorgeous. Dark hair with blond streaks pressed against his shoulder as the woman pressed against him. The white towel was gone in an instant as naked breasts the size of volleyballs teased and tantalized him. Then she... ewww! What!? She licked him! Just licked Tim's face like he was a lollipop... or... something.

"Whooooaaa, sweetie... this... this sorta thing just doesn't happen ta me! Who..." A delicate hand thrust down his pants, as if to confirm that he did indeed have a cock, which was indeed erect. It made no sense! Tim wasn't that bad maybe but... nothing to write home about, he knew. He was balding too soon for his age, but then again... his thick build and sturdy arms had impressed the ladies in the past...

"B-but... who... why... what's yer name?" he stammered, amidst nibbles, nuzzlings, and lurid licks.

"You may call me... Traci..." This time, they at least made it to the bed, before the pussy-impaling, breast-suckling rut could begin with sweat-slicked earnest.

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