Chapter 1

The alien jiggled her tits at me. The creature seemed utterly consumed with sexual innuendo and interest - or ... perhaps it thought that I was, and it was all simply to entice me into letting it free.

No chance of that happening; I may remind people of the 'absent-minded professor' smart-but-dumb mad scientist cliche, but I wasn't quite so absent-minded as to forget the threat this creature posed. And that was what I was here to assess - the black-budget, Area-51, off-the-radar wing of the federal goverment that didn't exist employed me for just such assessments.

"Determine whether 'Classified-Alien-Intelligence-Research Experiment-269 was a threat to national security. And if so, recommend a countermeasure to my department.

"Claire..." I nodded. It seemed appropriate I thought, as I typed in my thoughts and reports onto a keyboard that added them to a holographic screen, using cutting-edge tech that wouldn't be public for another 15 years.

"I love that name;" The Alien told me. "I'd love it even better if you opened this enclosure and fucked me." she-it said. I really wasn't sure whether 'Claire' could be referred to in that way. Yes, outwardly it had perfectly copied the body of a surprisingly voluptuous woman in her late twenties, with golden-blonde hair that curled at the shoulder length tips in a row, very fifties-June Cleaverish. Yet her blue, floral pattern dress seemed to push up her tits to form blatant, tantalizing cleavage striking to any observer. More like a wet-dream fantasy of a housewife.

But I couldn't let myself be fooled. The creature's exact biology was an unprecedented mystery. I had scanned, X-rayed, probed, and tested it ... her ... for days, and was beginning to get a picture that raised more questions than it answered.

"The entity designated CLAIRE-269 is composed of what appear to be a mass of partially differentiated pluripotent stem cells." I had clicked on a small voice-recorder that I often employed for spontaneous documentation of my insights as I paced my billion-dollar, underground laboratory.

"The cells are not unlike immature blood cells; but it's as if the entire biomass of the entity is made of these stem cells; like some sort of leukemic organism. The cells are flushed with an unknown enzyme that superficially resembles the hormone estrogen, yet with side-groups in a constant state of flux; this enzyme seems to catalyze ... thousands of reactions ... in a way that defies everything I know about biochemistry." I shook my head in amazement. Claire giggled at my confusion.

As I paced and spoke into the recorder, I walked closer to the Alien's enclosure. It was a thick, plexiglass cube with a bed, a treadmill, a table with various educational aids used to determine the extent of the creature's intelligence, and a television mounted on the wall, off most of the time.

"Equally unusual is the DNA of the alien lifeform. I've examined thousands of cells, many of them have differing amounts of DNA, and the genes coded in the DNA are transcribed seemingly at random. It's as if the cells only obey their genetic code half of the time, in other situations they operate according to some independent rubric I have yet to determine.

"Most of it is identical to human DNA, yet the cells it produces couldn't possibly operate the way they do if the instructions implicit in human DNA were being followed. It's ... It's chaos. I would never believe that an organism like this could survive, much less grow to adulthood. And it's levels of DNA actually seem to be ... decreasing?" At that, Claire's beautiful face seemed downcast and anxious.

"Does this entity have ... I just don't understand; everything on Earth ... EVERYTHING ... has a mechanism to replicate its own DNA, yet ... I find no traces of any of the three DNA polymerases, and none of the normal enzymes that repair mutations. What will this creature do when its DNA finally depletes itself?" Claire swallowed; looking worried.

I sighed. What will I do if I have to report a bunch of 'unknown', 'cannot determine', to the advisory board? I was here because I could find answers to scientific conundrums that run-of-the-mill PhD's would never imagine. I slumped into my high-backed chair to ponder, resisting the urge to feel sorry for myself.

"I could've had the fame; I could've had acclaim from my peers, my pick of universities worldwide ... almost had the Nobel in my grip. But I got too cozy with a Grad Student that wouldn't take no for an answer - she couldn't prove anything ... but the shame, the disgrace of it all..." But then Uncle Sam had come along with their doubled-edged offer. I could have access to data and equipment to make most scientists salivate, I would be given access to test subjects and inscrutable incidents to challenge the most ingenious intellects. Yes, there was the money too; but with all the clandestine-secrecy, there were severe limits to what I could do with the salary.

But I would know the truth, I had told myself; the real answers that the UFO-religions would give their right-arms to discover ... errh ... well, that's what was supposed to happen. But in truth, the super-secret black-budget paranoia-wing of the government kept everything so compartmentalized that I had barely scratched the surface of the greater mysteries that the public wasn't meant to know.

Like Claire, for instance. I would ask her again the question that had nagged me.

"Are you ready to tell me your place of origin?" I tried to sound stern.

"MARS!" She squealed happily, then started giggling. "I have no idea, silly. Just like the last time you asked."

"Is your species a natural, unknown stock, or are you of extra-terrestrial origin?"

"Do you remember being conceived by your parents? " I frowned.

Still, I would continue, the answer was here ... the answer was close. Claire began pressing herself against the plexiglass.

"If you want to learn about me; then you should feel me firsthand..." her breasts squeezed against the glass. "Feel my naked body against yours, fuck me with your hard, horny cock; you'd learn a lot from a roll in the hay!" Again, the creature was trying to distract me.

I began experimenting again with a blood sample from Claire inside a sealed, glass booth with gloves penetrating into the compartment.

"The quasi-estrogen hormone that exists at human-fatal concentrations in the creature's hemolymph has catalytic abilities that I must continue to explore." I said into my little black voice digital recorder as I began the tests.

"I've found that incredible textural changes are possible by bombarding the subject's tissue with various electromagnetic frequencies." I turned a dial inside the booth, there was a low, electric hum. The blood in the tube turned gray, and hardened into rubber. Adjusting the dial again, the mass in the test tube seemed to sprout a coat of fuzzy, brown fur. Another adjustment made the fluid as transparent as water. I scrutinized the sample, until an insight hit me. I turned back to the alien.

"Your clothes; it's all an illusion, isn't it? You're not really wearing anything, are you?"

"Bingo!" Claire confirmed with a smile and giggle. "I guess you don't like the slutty housewife look huh? Wellllll..." Claire shook her head, and somehow she was no longer wearing a blue floral-print dress, instead she was now clad in a pink bikini with nipples blatantly pointing through. Her body was lean, toned, perfectly voluptuous and yet with a strong suggestion of strength and vitality that sent a shiver of desire down my spine as she displayed her scantily-clad assets. Her hair was still 50's house-wife curly and blond. She could see the way I inhaled, how interested I was.

"Or maybe..." She shivered her body. "Something more cozy?" Her body had morphed before my eyes into a sizzling red lingerie with fishnet and pumps. Dressed to kill, boobs jutting upwards to best, sluttiest effect as she strutted and posed. The alien's mimicry was incredible - flawless.

"I know what you want ... you want a bad girl; a dirty girl..." Claire crooned. She changed - shifted in less than a second, but now she was apparently naked, yet coated in what seemed to be slippery, wet mud barely concealing her female charms. The nude alien seductress turned her shapely ass at me, and I noticed that the words 'LADIES MUD-WRESTLING' were painted in moist clay upon her hips and the cheeks of her wide, shapely buttocks. That was amazing! The ability to use her own body to reproduce text! What else could Claire accomplish?

"But maybe you're the one who's been dirty ... maybe you've been naughty..." With a shake of the head, the mud and nudity was replaced with a sleek layer of black, patent leather, with a dog-collar, spiked bracelets, and a chain going from a pierced lip to her ears. Somehow, a bullwhip was in her right hand and handcuffs seemed to be in her left.

"Meestress Claire vill punish you, leetle man! You vill beg to cum! But only vhen Meestress geeves you leave to do so!" Her eyes took on an air of lusty menace as she adapted to a dominatrix fantasy that made my face beet-red. Unconsciously, I leaned in closer to the spectacle. Claire moaned and writhed in her enclosure.

"Are you a leg man, or a tit man? Well ... I've got you covered both ways..." she said in a sultry tone. She actually was growing visibly taller; her legs elongating into sumptuous towers of muscled grace as the outer covering morphed from black, vinyl leggings into pantyhose with red high-heels. Her black vinyl bustier flowed and shifted to become a flimsy white T-shirt with the printed words:

Titopia Triple-XXX

Wet T-shirt

Contest

Moisture appeared from nowhere, dampening the apparent garment, clinging to her soft flesh beneath, exposing dark aureolas and plump swells of bosom. "Ahh ... Tit-man, I see." Claire replied sagely, noticing my eyes fixed to her chest.

What began as mere apple-sized handfuls seemed to plump up then, the space between them tightening; cleavage deepening - and her impressive mams began to quiver and tense as though ... they were preparing for something. Suddenly, her breasts seemed to leap in size; a slow but steady inflationary creep like a water balloon attached to a garden hose. Perfect, flowing expansion everywhere at once. Aureolas stretched beneath the flimsy, wet garment as apple-sized bosoms grew into grapefruits, inch-by-inch stretching larger, until the mammaries threatened to conceal her armpits, all the while the alien was moaning and writhing sensuously, pressing herself against the plexiglass, and as her juggs continued to expand, it became difficult to guage their full dimensions when resting, I could only compare them in size to flat objects.

The flat area pressed to the glass expanded from just larger than mere coaster size, until the space covered by soft, wet mammalian flesh was at least as wide as a pancake...

"NO!! No ... I am ... a scientist ... ruled by reason ... I will not allow you to distract me." I took several deep breaths. "You ... are not a woman, not human. I don't know what you are ... but this ... mimicry does not deceive me." Claire giggled.

"I'm not trying to deceive you, Doctor! I'm trying to get you horny!"

"And you think I would be foolish enough to release you through sexual enticement? I don't think so." I turned my gaze away and ignored the worried expression on the alien's face as I focused on the experiments I was documenting. I didn't know what she was, but I had to figure it out!

So ... that brings me to the agar plate experiment I had prepared two days ago. A small, plastic disk with a gel inside that provided nutrients for Paecilomyces lilacinus, a fungus related to penicillin. I wanted to see if and how a single cell of C.L.A.I.R.E.-269 would interact on the cellular level with other, better known organisms. With the equipment in this lab; I could also search back through video recordings over the past 48 hours through time-elapsed photography to study every minute detail of anything that might have happened. Yes, by glancing casually at the plate, it looked like the bluish-green fungus had grown like it was supposed to, but there was a strange, discolored spot that drew my attention.

I looked through my microscope, and through photographs taken by my computer through the microscope, and a very different picture began to emerge.

The single cell from Claire had latched onto one of the spore-producing hyphae of the fungus, and it seemed to be ... ingesting the spores as they emerged. The cell began to multiply and multiply ... and I could see through the recorded footage that as it grew, it took on the shape of the fungus, branching filaments under the microscope.

I watched fascinated as the mimicking cells grew around the fungus, attaching itself to the same area, and growing to cover the spore-producing hyphae, absorbing the spores as fast as they could be produced. Detailed studies of the chemical data also revealed a startling fact: The new mimic was ... feeding the other fungus; the alien cells were secreting some kind of sugary surrogate food source that seemed to satisfy the fungus. Soon, the Paecilomyces stopped growing, stopped explanding, no longer putting out new vegetative hyphae that would allow it to expand and cover new territory. It was stunted. But only in that way.

My eyes widened as I studied the reproductive strutures of the paecilomyces.

"They've quadrupled in size!" The fungus was churning out more spores than should be possible, yet it refused to expand any further. The mimic had grown to encircle its prey, and now absorbed every last spore produced. And over the intervening hours; the mimic had grown and expanded, doing what the fungus should have done, grown to encompass the entire plate. The blue-greenish fuzz I saw was not the fungus itself, but rather an alien entity that had copied its appearance, and stolen the ecological niche of the original organism. Yet the fungus itself seemed healthy; just stunted. And overtaken by the mimic.

My mind grappled with the implications, wondering how much of what I saw could be extrapolated. And I looked upon the gorgeous, giggling woman in the enclosure with renewed suspicion.

So tired ... and it still didn't make sense. I sipped a cup of coffee as I leaned up against the enclosure that kept the beautiful alien parasite contained. The creature was as gorgeous as ever, yet it ... she walked around her cell with a worried expression. Claire's breasts were larger than their normal resting state, and she rubbed them as though they were irritating her. I wasn't sure if I should continue to converse with the alien. It's only motive would be to escape the cage, and while it was remarkable how intelligent it ... she was, I just didn't think I could trust anything she might tell me. And I really didn't know if it was an it ... or a she. I poured over notebook sketchings I'd tried to make of its weird enzymes. The alien had enough estrogen for fifty women, (or something like estrogen) Yet, I could make no sense out of its DNA. This thing shouldn't even be alive! I scratched my head as I sat, and took another sip of coffee. And another ... and ... and ... ooh ... rather sleepy ... hmm ... must not have ... gotten ... enough ... last night...

Claire massaged her tits. The Doctor hadn't noticed her, absorbed as he was trying to figure out her biology. Her breasts had produced a milk that was laced with a highly potent sedative that would incapacitate a human almost immediately; and luckily the Doctor had placed his coffee near a series of perforations in the plexiglass that allowed air into the enclosure. And he was so consumed in his cipherings, that he didn't notice Claire milking her own hard-nippled breasts, until a thin dribble of her white lactate had landed into his coffee.

She'd planned for this eventuality. The Doctor should be unconscious for half and hour, long enough to do what was needed!

Yesterday she had noticed a tiny rupture in the lining of the door that sealed her into the enclosure. She had probed and studied it when the Doctor had been gone. And now she knew what to do. Her index finger elongated into a thin, pointed, metallic needle, which she then inserted into the tiny rupture, and probed ... and stabbed ... and probed. Finally, there was a crackling and a spark as a particular wire was severed. The seal on the door unlocked, and Claire stepped out into freedom. She smiled; her dress melting away to reveal the splendid curves of her ripe, nude body as she appraised the sprawling, unconscious scientist.

I awoke naked. And tied to a chair, withe many, many rolls of duct tape. Enough rolls of duct tape to hold down a 300-pound NFL linebacker, and I was just a lean, wiry, aging, salt-and-pepper haired scientist. I knew better than to scream; gagged tightly as I was.

I saw myself, standing in my own lab, wearing my exact same clothes. I was spiky haired, graying everywhere, with a dimpled chin and slim build and five-o-clock shadow. It was the mimic, C.L.A.I.R.E. - 269. And I knew what my threat-assessment report would read. The alien walked over to the outer barricade that sealed in my laboratory, and placed her ... its hand over the security scanner mounted on the wall. A green sliver of light ran down the panel.

FINGERPRINT IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED:

DR. Darrien E. Cecil, Ph.D, MT, CDCLS, (ASCP) Ed.d Professor Emeritus Level 12 Employee

After what I'd seen, I should have guessed that the alien's shapeshifing abilities were refined enough to copy my fingerprints! But I'd assumed it couldn't ecape the enclosure! No helping it now.

Claire (copying my appearance exactly) opened the door and stood outside in the dimly-lit hallway beyond. Smiled. Looked around for a few moments. The barricade came down again, sealing the lab shut. The Alien placed its hand on the outer security pad, and again its fingerprints were recognized as my own, and the lab opened again.

The alien produced from a pocket in its ... my labcoat a syringe. I recognized the label, I recognized the tube. My heart sank. The alien read the label.

"Batrachotoxin - derived from the South American Poison Arrow frog; among the deadliest poisons known to man. In case you need a way to kill the specimen?" It said accusingly, in my own voice.

It was the end. I swallowed. Puffed out my chest, and resolved to meet death with dignity. I closed my eyes.

The creature threw the loaded syringe into the wastebasket. When I turned to look at it again it ... she ... had again become the naked blonde woman with the toned body of a breast-augmented professional gold-digger.

"I COULD have become you and escaped. I COULD have killed you if I was aggressive. You believe all I want is escape; but that's not true." The naked woman sat on my lap, and began to kiss me. I was as helpless to resist this as I was to resist the poison injection that had never come.

She kissed, and kissed, and moaned as she unzipped my pants. Maybe the creature wasn't kidding with all of her sexual enticements! A few moments of pumping and my modest cock was rock solid. She smiled in pleasure and began to grind her pelvis, inching it down, pushing herself onto my cock, forcing my erect manhood to enter her slippery depths. My heart was racing! I'd gone from certain death to a hot lay in seconds! It was all too much to handle.