Part 14: A New Leaf

Deon Duvalier was accustomed to the wild and eccentric tourists; those with strange misconceptions about dress and behavior for visiting Caribbean islands like Grand Cayman, where he had lived and worked all his life; more recently here in airport security. Despite the new regulations and focus on security, the dark-skinned, grizzled old man did not anticipate any serious danger or trouble. He read his newspaper nearby the security metal detectors; scarcely aware of the strange uproar and grumbles of disbelief from the lined-up passengers crawling their way through the security process.

Deon's field of view was blocked by the newspaper, but he could still see a pair of bare, feminine feet walking through the metal detector. He ignored her, yet the outraged cries continued. Slowly, Deon's eyes went higher... higher up sleek calves and unclad thighs, up to... the woman had no pants! He was staring at her bare womanhood! And then her firm abdomen, up towards jiggling mountains of tit with no traces of tanlines, nor did these perky breasts seem to have any need of a bra.

She was a velvety dream of voluptuous peaks and hard curves. No woman should have been able to retain the luscious bounty of hips, ass, and bosom while maintaining such a slender standard to her waist. Her legs were sculpted from a cream-colored dream, her boobs hung firm and ripe, nipples seeming to angle forward as through to recriminate Deon for not lusting after her even more than he was. Between her legs, a coppery bush seemed to present itself to the light from the way her hips swayed; and Deon forgot to be embarrased or shocked; her pussy seemed only to cry out a welcome towards anything with a hard cock.

And her breasts! They were of course, larger and higher than they should have been, Yet he was not sure whether his hands could encompass them in their entirety. Would it take one hand, or both to cup either jugg? Their apparent softness would no doubt flow through his grasp even while firmly maintaining an impossibly enticting shape. But no, she was not wholly naked: A flimsy, gauzy white veil draped over her bronze hair. It had intricate lacey patterns and embroidered designs that for a moment seemed almost... religious?

"I surrender..." the woman said; red lips raised in a crooked smile.

"Why do you fear them?" the strange, crazy woman asked in a sneer. Deon thought he detected traces of an Italian accent. "Men crave the chance to stare at, to gaze upon, and to touch breasts like mine. Yet you cover my nudity with this ridiculous blanket! As if all do not know that I have glorious, naked breasts beneath this pathetic covering!"

"Eh- please c-come with us the security station..." Deon asked, as he and another islander working at the airport hustled the madwomen through a side door.

"What, do you feel that you are not deserving of more than one glance at my bosom? Wrong, my son. I want you, desire you to enjoy these tits upon my chest!" Her shimmering eyes turned sideways to rivet him in their depths; did Deon see a faint, passing green glow? "You must trust me when I tell you; a woman does not present herself in the nude unless she wants to inspire the lust; women of my sort, that crave the attention of a man's roving eye, we want you to enjoy us. It gives us pleasure when you take pleasure. Why do you not wish for all of us to be made happy?"

"P-please ma'am, there are children watching, come with us into this room so that we can - "

"THEY DESERVE THE TRUTH! NUDITY IS THE HIGHEST, PUREST TRUTH!" she hissed in rage. "AN END TO THE LIES AND DECEITS WE MASK OURSELVES WITH!"

What happened next was a blessing in a way; when she pounced upon the older, greying security guard, the way she wrapped her legs around his pelvis, and her arms around his neck obscured her indecent, thrusting breasts from passersby. Still, it was hard to walk with this naked nymphomaniac hanging off him, but Deon eventually succeeded in stumbling through the non-descript doors off the main concourse that would lead to the security station. His first attempt to remove her came as the door closed, and the two of them grappled each other in the narrow, sterile hallway leading to a communications center to the right, 20 feet ahead, and another door far off at the end of the passage.

He tried, tried to pry her off of him without causing damage; yet those slim, perfumed arms encircled him like bands of velvety steel, her strength as improbably great as was the lofty swell of her gravity-thwarting bosom. He would have attempted to keep talking, to calm her down, yet Deon could form no words with her tongue thrusting all throughout his mouth. And she did not even know him! It must be some new drug; yes that made sense. Some terrible new narcotic that turns naive European tourists into sex maniacs. What else made sense?

Finally, the veil-draped slut paused, rising from the security guard's mouth as if coming up for air.

"Ah, I see how it is;" she purred, green light dancing in her mischievous eyes. "You are a healthy man, but at your age you are experiencing... performance problems!" She tittered in that European accent, was it Italian? Well, that was the last straw, the naked woman was clearly unarmed, and unlikely to be a threat to security, but she had no right to speak to him that way!

"But you want these tits, don't you?" she queried, hands raising up the proferred mammaries for his inspection. Even now, you crave to lick, suck, and stroke my... endowments." she gave a quick jiggle for emphasis. "Yet you dare not embrace my bosom, for your impotence would be a terrible embarassment; imagine! A man given the chance to fondle and worship breasts like mine! Breasts that put canteloupes to shame! Breasts with firmness like unto bowling balls and yet the softness of a wet dream!

"But I can sense your desires! The lust, the craving is ingrained too deep in a man's soul! Your age stops you from growing a shaft firm enough to penetrate me, yet the bosom, the full swell of teat and tit is such a thing of beauty, that you yearn for them all the same! I shall surprise you, old and horny man, suck them! suck upon these tits, and you shall never need fear your impotence again!"

But before Deon could make a response more coherent than outraged sputterings, a calloused hand grasped hold of the auburn mane of this sex-crazed tourist and yanked backwards with a vigorous and unsympathetic tug.

"This peepshow is over, slut!"

"Wh-why do men and w-women date?" she asked him. In spite of himself, Pablo found his rage and fear softening. This one, this shorter female was not like the others. She had not confronted the captured nature guide with the beastial estrus and haughty lust as had the others.

"To see if they can grow to like each other." The harsh curses and defiance Pablo normally resorted to seemed hollow and unnecessary before this petite, naked girl. She was certainly one of the female abominations that spawned regularly on the transformed estate of the notorious drug-lord, yet she was weaker, less aggressive than the others.

"But... if a man seems to be an acceptable mate, wh-why does the woman not tear off his clothes and couple with him at first sight?" Her pale-grey eyes were genuinely puzzled, her face as wan and forlorn as a woman could be with the beauty of a world-class fashion model. Pablo shook his head with a wry grin.

"Real w-... er... human women... they must be selective when they choose their men. For... humans, bearing children is difficult, and time-consuming. A woman must find a man that she can bond with, connect on a deeper level, a man with whom she can connect in her soul. Some do otherwise, some do not always find soul-mates, but even still, a woman must consider her men carefully." The pain of being tied-up spread-eagle against wooden struts embedded in the ceiling seemed to fade at these innocent, yet improper questions.

"I must... I am so... what is the word... curious... about human customs..." Her words had an untraceable accent; but it was remarkable that she was able to speak at all, having been spawned so recently from a plant pod. But Pablo knew to expect that once the Seal on the Counter-Balance had been broken, the spawn produced would have extraordinary abilities and knowledge, apparently a form of race memory. All to resist the spread of their ancient enemy.

"I am... a runt," she reported. " I am too small, too weak to struggle with the others in the mating muds. If I... If I cannot overcome an opponent in the muds, and reach climax... then... then I cannot become fertile! What is the purpose of my existence then? Should I be thinking of... another way? A... human way?" Interesting, Pablo thought. He had named her Platina, from her unusual, grey-white eyes that seemed almost platinum-like. She had indeed seemed to be the outcast, runt of the litter. Her petite frame and slender build made her outrageous bosom seem especially awkward; the jutting canteloupes were a burden for one of her slight stature. Her warm complexion was a soothing amber in which her skin and hair seemed nearly the same color; and she had a classic, feminine vulnerability that aroused protective instincts in the restrained man very different from the crazed breeding-bitches that regularly milked him of sperm.

"I want to believe that... if there is no hope for me among my own kind... m-might I find a place among the human world?" It seemed unlikely for a freak of nature that mimicked humanity as a sexual parasite, but Pablo didn't have the heart to tell her no.

"Nothing is impossible." He assured her, that maxim seeming more apt than ever these past few days. Her hands began to caress his naked thigh, and a thrill rippled through him as Platina's hot breath teased his exposed, semi-erect member. But she could sense him turning away.

"Why do you turn away when one of the Offspring tries to suck upon your cock?" Platina asked, with perfect innocence.

"I must answer your question with a question: Why do you feel the need to suck upon my cock?"

"I... it..." it was difficult to put her primal drives into words. " There is... a great need, a great... burning... between my legs," she gestured to her naked cunt for emphasis. "When I see a man... there is a great desire for him... I need... I need him to be... inside me. Then... there is the shaking in my lips." Her mouth puckered, and she gazed with unabashed hunger at his groin. "I know what to do... I feel it... I feel how to suck the cock... You will enjoy it! I know it! I feel it!" As she spoke, there came to Platina's voice a frenzied tone; as if speaking about her urges made them more powerful. She sniffed his naked groin and her tongue darted out for a sensuous lick of his rod.

"N-n-no... y-you cannot become... r-respected in human society that way..." Pablo protested, trying not to enjoy the lurid caress. Her softly innocent doe-eyes raised to his face in genuine, innocent confusion.

"But... do not all men crave wild sex with young women? Am I not attractive?"

"N-no... but human women do not behave this way... human women seek something far beyond sucking men's cocks and becoming pregnant." Her face was imploring... pleading...

"Human women seek something your mother-mistress cannot conceive; they seek love."

Brunhilde Gerty knew something was desperately, terribly wrong. As she squirmed upon the hard linoleum of the outer hallway leading to the communications center for airport security, she found it a struggle to remember her own life.

Instead, her mind was being assaulted by eerie, impossible images of animals - she was the animal! Lions, bears... earthworms... tapeworms... dinosaurs... Why? How? It was that strange, wicked, naked tourist-slut. Why had she felt the overpowering need to touch those breasts? Those pillow-soft mounds that taunted, tormented her! Brunhilde herself being completely flat. Yet... yet she had sucked them! Without understanding why, her lips had encircled the bulging bulbs of tit and suckled deeply of a fruity, impossible nectar. Why? Why had she been compelled to do it? The answer seemed inches away... She grunted, feeling her aging flesh tighten and fill with a strange, robust vigor. The heat, the fiery heat in her breasts was beyond endurance!

Brunhilde had long suffered from depressing recurrences of breast cancer, and numerous surgeries and harsh treatments had burned away whatever youthful beauty she had left, leaving her a curveless, sexless, middle-aged husk. She'd been lucky on balance; still healthy enough to be credible as a security guard.

Why think of that now? Why did it matter so much that she hadn't been with a man in twenty years? Women just didn't need sex the same way that men did, why did she crave... no... she did not crave a man... she was starting to desire... all men, she wanted orgies!

The images returned, more focused, vivid and disturbing that before. As Brunhilde clawed at her throbbing, inflating chest, she suddenly dove into the mind of a placid female buffalo, nursing a young calf... then she was a cow... doing the same... the sea... she shared the mind of a female blue whale also nursing her legless young.

She... she hadn't had breasts in years! Not since the second round of surgeries! Yet now... now swells of rounding flesh began to rise into view like yeast-laden bread dough... it took her a moment to remember bra-sizes... cup sizes... she... she hadn't even bothered - needed to wear one in years! She arched her back on the cool linoleum, straining from what appeared to be plums beneath the skin of her chest, widening and enlarging her once-flat bosom to accomodate. But by no means where her neo-breasts finished!

Brunhilde barked out a cry that was half snarl, half yell as a rush of orgasmic animal memories asaulted her. She was a desert lizard, appraising a lithe male whipping about in a species-encoded mating dance. Finally, she was in darkness... no... sex... rutting, sweaty mating... but not her... she was a venereal parasite, a mite of some sort, eager to spread... to procreate.