Enter the Amazon Book 2

In a few more quivering moments, her belly had swelled beyond the first trimester of a normal pregnancy. And soon, it seemed as though one of her lovers had managed to smuggle a soccerball within her stomach.

"LIFE!!!" The Priestess shrieked. "IT IS LIFE!! I BREED!!! I LIVE!!! IT HAS NEVER BEEN SO SWEET!!" But her paramour was understandably confused; reason warred with lust as he gazed slack-jawed at the impossible, quickened pregnancy that ripened her already gorgeous figure. Fears of the unknown contorted the face of the bearded driver, yet his flesh, his loins could respond only to the raw, explosive femininity of the creature impaling herself upon his rod. His hips jerked, and he ejaculated. He spurted. Again, and again the Brazilian trucker spewed forth his vigorous manseed into the over-fertile body grinding atop him. The shock of a woman experiencing a complete pregnancy in less than a minute was profound, yet not enough to change his lust for a creature so seductive. Her lower lips, her cunt contracted and throbbed to draw in every last sperm.

"T-too late...." grunted Pablo. "The nightmare has begun!"

**********

"A heavy burden indeed," Dylsia agreed, or rather the sex-creature that had once been Dylsia Jimenez. She stroked the shoulders of her latest conquest, a slim and tantalizing sculpture of womanhood, the glistening sheen of Bellini's flesh teased the bright lights in the lavatory, until it seemed as though the Italian former Nun had been dipped in liquid bronze. "To have to dress again in such tasteless clothes..." she gestured at the discarded Nun's habit crumpled on the floor.

The nude woman writhing on the floor had still not recovered from her final round of orgasms. Eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into the carpet, skin glistening with moisture - each muscle and tendon clenched as though to prevent her from being whisked away on a licentious tide of toe-curling bliss. At first, there had been the screaming, the moans of ecstasy that one might expect from a woman whose pleasure centers where being assaulted as no man had done before. And Dylsia had often shoved her plump boobs deeper into the mouth of her prey, in a belated attempt to silence the rapturous cries she made.

But soon enough, once the quivering heap of lust-drugged woman flesh had passed the seventh orgasm, she seemed to lose all semblance of awareness. It was sort of like gorging yourself on pure sugar; yes sugar is sweet and pleasing to the tongue, yet too much, too quickly can overload the senses and give one an adverse reaction. So it was with Sister Bellini; the joy of the forced climaxes that ravaged her body had been immensely pleasing, yet the lust, bliss, the sheer delight had compounded until it became more than her mind could handle. She degenerated into a grunting rag-doll of jiggling bounty, unable to speak except to grunt with indescribable sensations. Unable to move except to masturbate her cunt. The infectious ovum-spores had overwhelmed her, body and soul as the transformations completed.

Dylsia paused only a moment to lick the dripping slit of the naked, former nun before helping the new creature rise to her feet. Bellini gripped the edge of the sink furtively, her mind struggling to cope with the aftermath of the final, eleventh orgasm.

"But I...I never imagined...it would feel...like this!?" She hissed in awe, eyes widening as the majesty of Gaia imprinted itself upon her thoughts, rewriting, reenforcing, shifting the nuances of her character into a salacious reversal of her former personality. Firm fingers gripped the sink with taut intensity as the newborn female reveled in her appearance. Her flesh seemed to shine with her own newfound, inner eroticism as much as the sheen of sparkling moisture that new graced her skin. With a start she reached down to grope her hot pussy with a quivering left hand, her wet womanhood a seething cauldron of female arousal.

"How...how can you ask me to put clothes on again....after this! Sister Bellini demanded, her upper lip trembling with the magnitude of her passions. "How can I feel the ripeness of my new breasts, how am I to touch my delicious cunt under clothing?! Look at me...at this new body...it's as though...as though an Olympic Class Swimmer was kidnapped for outrageous breast implantation that she might be sold into sexual slavery!" How colorful, Dylsia thought.

"But don't forget this ass," remarked Bellini's mother/mistress as she fondled the coppery hemispheres bulging with fecund vitality. Dylsia's hands traveled on a slippery journey from between the woman's wet thighs, up along the firm trail of her tight navel, towards the jutting grandeur of triumphant boobs that would have severely strained a D-cup bra. Ripe, dark nipples and the sensitive halos around them seemed poised for action; as though each teat were programmed for a mission of Mass-seduction. So ripe, ready, and willing. "No woman alive could match your figure now..." Dylsia purred in her protege's ear. "No human woman..."

"And...no man could resist me for long!" The ex-Nun's brown eyes practically burned with excitement; and just minutes ago, when she'd entered the lavatory, she had sworn a vow of eternal celibacy. The rational side of Dylsia Jimenez was amazed that the infection could so rapidly, so drastically bring about such a transformation in mind and body. Yet the Over-instinct put her concerns at ease; all was natural, all was to be expected. "We...we are not human anymore, not truly human. I feel it clearly...what...what are we Mother?" For surely Dylsia was, the newborn feminine predator had no doubt.

"A unique product; we are an over-arching control to maintain the natural order, to bring life on Earth back into Balance. We are Ladies of Nature; and we shall save this world, and yet destroy it. We shall conquer it, and yet liberate it as well.

"But as for you....you know that you must put on your clothes again - at least temporarily." Dylsia stared her spawn straight in the face. "The plane has already lifted off; we'll be over the Atlantic soon, and your sisters will be concerned for you." The hispanic mother/mistress pressed her firm nipples against those of her convert. "You must allay their suspicions; for there is a plan. I assure you. A plan to capture this aircraft and bend everyone onboard to the service of Gaia."

"Wh-what plan?" Bellini asked. But Dylsia only smiled wryly.

"No, child...consider this a test." The latina smirked; the Nun had been biologically older, yet now, as a new species, a new creature, Jimenez was the senior. "You can feel the Over-instinct, which we call Gaia, you feel Her inside your mind. It is the sum of all the needs and desires of every creature that has ever lived. We are apart of it, and we can use Gaia to fulfill the Mission of Gaia. We will link ourselves to each other through this Super-instinct that connects the globe.

"Feel Lisa, she who was once Lisa Sorrentino....feel her through your connection to the Web of Life that envelops all of us. She has a strategy that will give us total control of this aircraft. I won't tell you what she is doing..." The Mistress pressed her hands to the cheeks of her eager pupil. "You must reach out yourself, feel her intent for yourself. In this way, you shall grow in your abilities as a Lady of Nature. Reach for her with your emotions...feel her...yes...feel her and see the plan..."

Bellini's brown eyes suddenly flashed a luminous, emerald green for a second. "Oh yes Mother....I see now....I understand!" The new daughter gave a sinister smirk.

**********

Eric Cones absentmindedly thumbed a copy of 'Silent Spring' that sat on the book shelf of the apartment rented by Dylsia Jimenez, for which he had a key; the trust his girlfriend placed in him allowed him to go as he pleased through the small 3-room corner dwelling. Eric's bald-shaven head furrowed with doubt and worry. Could his girlfriend's beliefs have finally landed her in serious trouble?

He reclined in a whicker-backed papasan chair staring at the flowery Greenpeace poster on the nearest wall. Eric wasn't normally paranoid; but it wasn't difficult to piece together a frightening scenario:

"She'd gone to South America...protesting diamond mines... could be some corrupt local officials didn't take kindly to the interference of some idealistic, American students..." His dark brow creased with worry as he balanced his chin on his clenched hands.

"A lot of students...but they don't know the area....might have hired a local guide... But in some of those countries, there are drug lords, Marxist rebels, separatist factions....who routinely abduct and hold for ransom vulnerable, rich Americans. Or...rich as they see it. Could be a lot of influential investors who thought they could do without the nuisance and attention; there could be all kinds of ways to lead the students astray... lead them into a trap...then into a grimy cell, guarded by cigar-chomping men with bad-goatees, deadly machine-guns, and more than enough greed."

Eric thumbed the pages of Silent Spring unconsciously, weighing his options, evaluating the risks, the probabilities. Dylsia had been almost a week late for her last contact, and Eric decided that it was best not to take chances, the longer he waited, the more likely something was to...get worse. If he was correct, there'd be ransom demands soon enough. And if some petty drug lord didn't get some hard cash, then....well, better not to think about it. Was it a leap? Was he fooling himself with undue pessimism? Maybe, this could just be some innocent misunderstanding that would work itself out.

Eric's sable-colored eyes glanced at the white telephone on a nearby coffee table. Any second now, she might be calling; he stared intently, as if willing the phone to ring and connect the two of them. He tapped his fingers restlessly, for there was another reason for his concern. The hot little Latina had been very, very friendly of late, and had not hesitated to give him something 'to remember her by', before leaving. The nights of furious, unprotected passion they'd shared forced him to consider the real possibility that a nine-month surprise might soon be on the way. Not that he had any firm proof, but the way they'd been going at it the week before he left...made him wonder. She never mentioned anything in the way of birth-control, and primitive emotions of protectiveness rose to the fore as he contemplated ways to protect his girl.

Options? Well perhaps he should call the police, and then from there maybe he could get the F.B.I., and then maybe, maybe he could connect to the State Department, maybe the Customs Service, and perhaps through official channels there might be some small chance of gaining information, if nothing else. Yes, he probably would do that, but...it seemed like too uncertain a method. Kidnappings like this did happen, and often the bureaucrats seemed powerless to really save people in that kind of danger. Even if the Government could do something, would they expend the political capital needed to roust the local government into some kind of action? If the local government could do something? And would his government go to that much bother over just one, anonymous citizen with no political connections? Maybe, since there were a group of students, and a Professor with Dylsia...but none of whom had any political connections.

Well, it wasn't impossible to save Dylsia from...whatever was going on through the official government channels, but it seemed like too slow a method, too unreliable....Eric needed to do something, take some sort of action quickly. Yes, he'd try to go through the authorities, but he'd also do more than that at the same time.

"Think, Think, Think, Eric...who do you know....who could you bring in on this..." Eric Cones wasn't really that special himself, he didn't really know any powerful, unusual, or influential people that might be able to bail out Dylsia in her time of need. However....wait....hmmm... Eric's eyes brightened. There wasn't much he could do, but what he could accomplish, he would. True, there were no strings he could pull, no dangerous men beholden to him that could undertake some kind of rescue mission, but there was someone...perhaps. He grasped the white phone on the coffee table, and began dialing a complex, long-distance number.

"Hello...New York Post? Yes...well it's very important that I speak to one of your investigative reporters; Melissa Jimenez. Yes......I know she's busy, but she'll want to hear this...........no, no, tell her it's about her niece, Dylsia. Yes, I'll hold."

**********

"Reporters...." The man sneered in his native Portugese. "Thinking they have the right to meddle wherever they please." He was a balding, portly man with a salt-and-pepper goatee, reclining in his cusioned, leather-backed chair, yet the electric gleam in his eyes seemed not unlike that of a panther ready to pounce.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" Shrilled the olive-skinned young woman in her professional beige business dress. "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ABOVE THE LAW, MARCOS!?"

"Here, I am the Law. And beyond the walls of my estate, I can buy the Law. Your crusade to expose my enterprises will embarass a number of powerful politicians; men willing to turn a blind eye towards unfortunate...accidents to prevent such embarassments from reaching the public." From his tailor-made, 3-piece jet-black suit, Marcos withdrew a plump, cuban cigar and prepared to light it. The woman rolled her eyes.

"I have heard it all before; you think you can slit my throat and dump me into the jungle. I have brought down greater men than you, Marcos! You think I would expose drug dealers, death-squads, bribery rings without taking precautions!"

"And you think yourself to be...smarter, more elite than the rest of us, eh Ms. Celeste de Lourdes? Because of your fancy education in a fancy American Journalist school?" Marcos made a whimsical, dismissive gesture with a pudgy, ring-bedecked hand not holding a cigar. "This is not California! This is Brazil! And In this country, My men can get to you, I can hire men that will -"

"AND IT WOULD STILL BE WORTH IT!" Interrupted Celeste, fist clenched, long mahogany hair flying about her high cheek-boned face. "I KNOW OF THE POLITICIANS YOU HAVE BRIBED! I KNOW OF YOUR TIES TO THE FIRST CAPITAL COMMAND! I KNOW ABOUT THE DRUG SHIPMENTS! MAYBE IT IS WORTH MY LIFE TO BRING DOWN A MAN OF YOUR CORRUPTION!" She turned and spat; yet her quivering lips and shaky hands still betrayed an irrepressible fear from the deadly threats of this corrupt Kingmaker. Marcos chuckled as he puffed upon his thick cuban.

"Be certain, little one. Be certain that you truly can do what you claim. Accidents happen, Television Stations can have their licenses revoked, witnesses can be...silenced." She seemed about to speak, but Marcos pressed ahead: "No, I am not a politician, I do not have an elected office; because I do not need one. For I am the man who pulls the strings of the leaders of men! It is my pocket that they come to when they have need. It is my doorstep on which they appear when they need favors!" Marcos leered at her from across his polished, oaken table. The glare of lights from overhead cast a shadow upon his broad face not unlike that of a snarling jungle cat.

"Men like me are more dangerous than any man with an elected office, because we do not fear polls, voters....or the Law. Because I have reached a point where Legal Decisions can be bought...." he arrogantly puffed a ring of volant nicotine in her face. "....And sold...like Any. Other. Commodity." But Celeste steeled herself, she'd come too far to back down now.

"We shall see, Marcos. In an undisclosed location, there is a modem that is programmed to transmit a complete file of all your bribes, butchery, and backstabbing to the six largest newspapers in Brasilia! If I do not return within three hours to stop the transmission; then we're going to put your secret influence to the test!" Her green eyes sharpened with indignation. There was a tense moment of silence.

"Still, I think that when - " But Marcos was interrupted by the harsh buzzing of his desk-side intercom. "Speak!" He commanded. The voice on the other end was a lilting, honeyed tone that promised salacious pleasures better left unspoken.

"It is... your new best friend..." crooned the womanly voice. "I have an excellent solution to your...media problem. Give her to me, I can absolutely guarantee that she will pose no problem at all....after I am through..." Interesting. Somehow, Marcos was inclined to believe that his new mistress could deliver as promised.

"As you wish," he said through the intercom.

**********

The bearded, bandana-clad men in Marcos' employ shoved her through a thick doorway into a sumptously decorated apartment with smooth linoleum floors, white leather furniture, and a glass sliding door to the south that opened up onto a patio with grass. From the way the grubby mercenaries had fondled Celeste as they forced her along, she began to worry that this might be some sort of twisted, rape-chamber.

How would raping her get her to not reveal her evidence on Marcos' corruption? Yet it was not to be so simple. Immediately after the door was slammed shut, and locked, and locked, and locked again the intrepid reporter became aware of the cries. No...they were not the sounds of a wild animal caught in a trap, they were womanly sounds; the noises of women in some sort of...ecstasy?

The first two women were wet and slippery with what might have been oil or...or mud? They thrashed upon the limoleum, writhing as one might to escape a giant, constricting snake, yet they were caught only in coils of their own lust. Naked women, cream-coffee skin tones apparently of Brazilian extraction, except for their impossibly green, green eyes.

Yet they were eerily, strikingly beautiful, with a plumpness of breast and hip that nearly any man should find attractive. Yes, their boobs were vast, most men could barely wrap his hands around either, but the swelling valleys of their magnificent teats were not overly vast, not like the clearly artificial enhancements of porn-stars. Everything, the jiggling boobs, the sleek legs, the heart-shaped rumps all seemed perfectly natural, yet undeniably impressive for their abundance.

Celeste could not tell what had cast these women into these senseless fits of erotic gratification but both were....pregnant!? Yes, each was cradling a plump rise below their navels, a quivering womb ripe and throbbing with energetic young. The girls shivered with delight as...hey! Celeste's eyes must be playing tricks upon her! Each taut, tawny womb blossomed and pulsed outwards even as she watched with slack-jawed amazement. No...it was not some trick of the light; the thrashing, naked women seemed to be half-way through pregnancies; yet they plainly grew yet larger, in an incremental creep, even as she watched!

"It is important that you leave Mr. Marcos alone; he is important to us." Said the disturbingly attractive woman with the exceptionally perky breasts clad in an open, gold-embroidered robe. She strode leisurely towards the glass sliding doors, and looked out towards the grass, where several young workmen were clearing away a ten-square meter area of turf next to two dark-green bushes on the vast and manicured lawns of the estate.

"I don't know who you are Lady, but I have a responsibility to the People of Brazil! This man is the center of a web of corruption and crime! I'm sure he's important to his pet whores, but I serve a higher calling!" Insisted Celeste, more with revulsion than fear. The strange, robed woman chuckled.

"Oh no, little one. You do not serve a higher power, but very soon you will. You see, we need a man like Marcos." The green, green eyes of the robed beauty widened with manic intensity as she glared at Celeste, a hand reaching towards the handle opening the sliding glass door. "Marcos has privacy, security, and considerable wealth. He can transport people and....objects all across this country, and beyond in many cases. His connections allow him to interdict the police forces that might become too curious in me and my......daughters."