Lust from Space!

"Hey, sweetheart," he said. "Why don't you get changed and rest for a moment while I check on your mother."

"OK, dad," she said, getting up. As she did, his hand slipped down her back. It was odd, he thought, that he didn't feel her bra at the middle of her back. But again he found himself thinking about his daughter's breasts. He had gone out of his way to avoid seeing his daughter naked after she had turned twelve. He had felt that once they were able to take care of their own bathing and hygiene, they deserved their privacy, but he had to admit to himself that his daughters were very attractive. Even more because of this, he had to keep his gaze away from them.

Back in the tent, Sara emptied her pack and repacked it, keeping the empty canteen on top. She hadn't decided whether to wash it out or not. There was a little nectar residue left in it, she figured, and if she simply added water to it, a sip from it might be a nice little lustful pick-me-up. Thinking more about it, she shook it and heard a little liquid inside, so she uncapped it and sniffed. Big mistake, she realized. All the fucking had made her a little scatterbrained, and she had already forgotten that she hadn't actually diluted the nectar-water yet. Just a whiff made Sara's head spin. "Damn it," she muttered, shaking her head, trying to clear the invading feelings of lust. Kneeling on the floor of the tent, she took a couple of deep breaths, trying to slow her thumping heart. OK, she thought. She stripped off her shirt and slipped off her shorts, underneath which she had worn nothing. She looked down again at her smooth pussy lips and ran a couple fingers across them. They were smoother than she could ever hope to get them by shaving. Just the feeling of her fingers was enough to prompt a second pass, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and before she knew it, she was laying on her back, hips thrusting against her hand.

Suddenly, a knock came on the flap. Sara reached for her sleeping bag and covered herself. "I'm changing!" she said in a sing-song voice.

"It's me," her mother said from outside. "Can I come in?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Maggie unzipped the tent flap and slipped inside, zipping it back up behind her. Indeed, Sara had appeared to be changing. There was a neatly folded stack of clothes at the foot of the sleeping bag, and a shirt and pair of shorts strewn nearby, but there was no longer any mistaking the smell of her daughter's arousal. Even the girl's face was freshly rosy. Maggie raised her eyebrows and silently mouthed, "Again?" Sara's eyes motioned to the canteen on the floor of the tent. It was open and had toppled onto its side, but there wasn't enough liquid in it to spill out. Maggie reached for it, and her daughter's hand grabbed her wrist. The girl shook her head "no," but Maggie waved her off and grabbed the canteen and capped it. Sara lay back, throwing her arm over her eyes, trying to relax and purge the lust from her mind. When she did, her body was exposed, and Maggie savored the sight.

"I know you're upset, honey," Maggie said suddenly. "But we'll find your sister." Sara uncovered her eyes and gave her mother a quizzical look. Maggie put a hand up to her ear and then pointed toward the outside of the tent. Sara's arm fell back over her eyes, surrendering to the little audio drama her mother was putting on for her father. Her pussy still burned white hot and she parted her legs in the vain hope that the air would cool it off. Maggie, seeing her daughter's exposed sex slowly reached out and ran a finger along the juicy slit.

"Mom?" Sara asked, uncovering her eyes again to see her mother grinning. As Maggie ran her finger up and down her daughter's slit, she continued: "She may not have your experience, but she's smart. She'll figure something out until we can get to her." With that, she pushed her finger into Sara's pussy. Sara groaned, trying her damnedest not to cry out. "I know how you feel, sweetie," Maggie said, a tinge of mischief to her voice that only Sara could truly understand, but it barely registered. Maggie had started rubbing her daughter's clit with her thumb, two fingers now buried in the girl's wet pussy. "I wish she was here, too." There was something about the illicitness of this, her father only meters away, that was driving Sara to orgasm far more quickly than she could have imagined. Her mother's fingers inside her were teasing her G-spot, and she felt as if she was going to explode. Suddenly, she sat up, driving her Maggie's fingers deep inside her. She hugged her mother, burying her face in the woman's neck as she bucked and ground on her hand. Maggie stroked her hair as she came silently, with only the slightest whimper. "There, there, baby. It's OK."

After the her spasms had subsided and she had collapsed back onto the floor of her tent, Sara felt her mother's fingers slide from her pussy. Her eyes were still clenched shut when smelled felt those same fingers below her nose. When they pressed against her lips, she took them into her mouth and sucked, tasting her own juices. When Maggie's fingers were clean, she removed them from her daughter's mouth and got up to leave. "Now get your sleep," Maggie said. "We're leaving in an hour, and we have a big day ahead of us." Mother and daughter exchanged excited glances, and then, almost before the tent flap had been fully zipped up, Sara was asleep.

In the depths of the buried spaceship, Lucy slept, too. Caressing her, the tendrils that formed the hammock fed off her electrical energy and, at the same time, let their own energy leech into her. In her dreams, she witnessed, in scattered bits and pieces, the life of the ship. For eons, the ship was worshipped as a god on some planets. Other planets viewed it as a curse or a bad omen. One civilization sought to control it as a weapon and hunted it from system to system for seven hundred years. Lucy's body twitched as she dreamed, and the tendrils glowed in excitement as they fed her more visions. Even in her dream state, Lucy found herself perplexed and oddly aroused as she witnessed a thousand different species in a thousand different states of ecstasy.

In her vision, she walked amongst the writhing ghosts of the countless generations the ship had hosted. She heard their pleasured cries and whimpers ebb and flow as the ghosts faded in and out of her vision. It seemed odd, she thought, that something always seemed to be just beyond her vision. A ghost? Maybe. She strode a little faster, past the ghosts, drawn on instinct like a moth to a flame. Faster she ran, cutting through the ghosts and started finding herself in familiar territory. She knew this place, but what was it? The more she thought about it, the more she felt her mind clouded. Stopping, she thought, what the hell? If Lucy hadn't known better, she'd have dismissed the fogginess as part of the dream state. Something was actively blocking her. Lucy woke suddenly, practically leaping from the hammock.

At the campsite, Sara woke to the sounds of supplied being loaded into packs. Quickly, she slipped her clothes on and threw the canteen back into her own pack. "There she is," her father gestured toward her as she climbed out of the tent.

The sun hovered thirty degrees off the horizon. "Are you sure we have enough time?" Sara asked.

"I'm bringing the extra tent, just in case," Don said, patting his pack. "It'll be a little intimate, but it'll do for one night." Sara eyed the tent roll and then caught her mother giving her a look that she couldn't quite interpret. She shrugged it off and hefted her own pack onto her back.

As they made their way through the forest and to the dock on the lake, Sara began to have misgivings about this plan. She and Lucy had already been on the path to discovering their erotic attraction. The encounter in the ship had simply made it quicker and with as little awkwardness than it might otherwise have had-with as little awkwardness as could be expected, anyway, when being ravaged by the local flora. They had brought their mother into it by necessity, to stop the bombing. That wasn't to say that they didn't find their mother attractive. Far from it, Sara found that just thinking about Maggie's body, the smoothness of her skin, and the taste of her pussy made her so wet she wished she had worn underwear. But now they were actively bringing her dad into this, and while she knew on some level that it was again an act of survival, she was particularly worried what this place would do to him. The vapors, sap, and nectar all had very pronounced effects on her, Lucy, and Maggie. But, she worried, what would they do to a man?

All these concerns fluttered away like sparrows when the boat hit the water and they dipped their paddles in, sliding the canoe gracefully past the point of no return. She must have been obviously distracted because she almost jumped when Don looked back from the front and said, "Hey sweetie, you're dragging your paddle. We need to hurry. Can you go faster?" Sara knew this tone. Throwing her back into her strokes, she answered the challenge. The canoe lurched forward and her father grinned and turned around, attempting to match her strokes. Maggie made a token effort, but she knew that she was out of her league, and just focused on keeping them pointed in the right direction. Sara felt the wind ripple through her hair, and when she looked forward, she saw the island approaching rapidly.

"Hey," her mother said, a little worried. "Time to slow it down, guys." Father and daughter continued to strain against their paddles, and the island continued to rush toward them. "Hey!" Maggie just about shouted, but neither her husband nor her daughter paid her any mind. Around them, the reeds of the shallow shore started to whiz by, and then started to become dense.

Suddenly, Don and Sara threw their paddles into the boat. "Hold onto something!" Don yelled. Maggie dropped her paddle in the water and gripped the sides of the canoe with white knuckles. Beneath them came the sickening rasping, screeching sound of a boat running aground. They had apparently found a gentle slope to ride up. Or not. The boat stopped short, and Don, who had begun to turn around to make a "see, not so bad!" face, went flying forward out of the boat.

Sara and Maggie had been able to remain seated, and instantly they leaped from the vessel and went to Don, who lay face down and motionless in the grass. "Dad!" Sara shrieked. "Don!" Maggie yelped. Sara went to him and was about to roll him over, but Maggie stopped her. "Wait," she said. "Careful turning him over! (Oh, god, Don!)" Sara felt her father's body for broken bones.

"Nothing broken," she said.

"What about his back?"

"Fine, luckily."

"OK."

They turned him over and saw that he looked to be undamaged. Sara went to take his pulse, and his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist, and his eyes went wide. "Gotcha!" he said. Sara screamed and Maggie yelped.

"Daddy!" she screamed again, wrenching her wrist away. "What the hell?!" She beat on his chest with her open hands. "What's wrong with you?!" He laughed heartily, and she slapped his chest more until she was panting and tired.

"I win," he said smugly. Sara and Maggie scowled back. "Anyway, we should get moving." After a moment, Sara shook her head and stood, and grabbed her pack from the canoe, which appeared to be sufficiently embedded in the turf. "Here," her father said, handing her a half-full jug of water from his pack. "Fill up before we head out." She took her canteen and filled it until the jug ran out. She almost put the now full canteen to her lips, but pulled up short. "There's another jug in my pack," her father assured her.

"It's OK. I'm not that thirsty," she lied, her throat parched. "Besides, I want to make sure we have enough." She capped the canteen and shouldered her pack.

Her father shrugged and motioned for her to lead the way. "You were the last one to see her, so why don't you go first and show us the last place you saw her," he said. With that, Sara took her first steps toward the entrance.

Lucy shook off the fog in her head and felt the cool grass beneath her bare feet. She wriggled her toes and breathed deep, calming herself. What was that all about? she thought. She knew that whatever it was, the ship was trying to hide it from her, but not terribly hard. Maybe it was something that they just weren't ready to see yet, something that would be revealed in time. Lucy tried desperately to convince herself that this was the case, but deep down, she knew she had to find out. And she knew that the last place she saw in her vision was the dense jungle-like area toward the bottom of the ship, where they had been earlier. She decided she would start her search there. Tying her shoelaces into a belt loop on her shorts, she headed out, barefoot, to get answers.

As she made her way from corridor to corridor, descending deep into the heart of the ship, she began to have second thoughts, but this time they were her own. What if, she thought, what if this is all a trap? The visions she'd had were vivid, but incomplete, and she had been acutely aware that she had never witnessed the final fate of any of the previous occupants. Had they simply died of old age, casting the ship adrift after each successive generation? She wanted to believe that. But the visions of the ship being hunted across half the universe haunted her. Why had it been hunted? So many questions cartwheeled around in her head that she could scarcely keep track of them all. Again, she cleared her head and carried on, padding lightly on the soft soil.

When the air began to thicken into a warm soup, Lucy knew she was getting close. Naturally, the thicker and more humid the air became, the more saturated it became with the vapors that filled her mind with lustful thoughts. She tried to clear her head again, but she found deep breaths only made her head swim with desire. Thinking fast, she stripped off her shirt and tied it around her nose and mouth as a makeshift filter. The tide of lust did not recede, but neither did it climb any higher. Now, though, Lucy felt her mind contending with the feeling of the ever so slight breeze against her naked breasts. It was taking almost all of her concentration to keep from succumbing to her urges, enhanced as they were by the ship. Forcing her eyes and legs forward, she started into the dense foliage in search of answers.

Lucy waded through the increasingly thick growth. The denser it became, the surer she was that she was going the right direction. Soon, she came to a place where the trees were so close that she could not slip between them. She also got the feeling that leaves and vines were purposefully positioned to graze against the areas that turned her on most. Lucy followed the wall of trees around in what she soon knew was a large circle. She continued around until she stopped short when she saw a door. Not just an opening in the wall, this was an actual door with an actual handle. She reached out, and the instant her fingers touched the handle, two roots shot from the ground and grabbed her ankles.

Sara brought her parents to the crawlspace that served as the entrance to the ship. Sliding her gear in first, she waited until she heard it hit the floor on the inside and then scooted herself in feet first. Bathed in the light of the glowing blue tree, she received more of the gear, and then helped her parents in. As she gathered her pack, she noticed her father was preoccupied with the blue tree. "Just wait," she said with a grin. "That's just the beginning."

As they descended into the ship, Sara sensed something was off. The empathic connection she had with the ship felt tense, but she soon wrote it off as the same reaction it had had to her mother at first. It could probably sense her father and his ill intent for this place. When they were halfway down the ladder, the hole through which they had entered suddenly closed with a loud rumble. The ship had simply healed the breach, and from the ceiling emerged the glowing blue tree, now growing upside-down above them. They paused for a moment.

"We should head back," Maggie said.

"No!" both Sara and her father said.

"We have to find Lucy first," Don said. "And then we'll find a way out of here. We'll blow that hole back open if we need to."

Sara felt the air become even tighter. That probably wasn't what the ship wanted to hear. When she reached the bottom, she cleared the landing and leaned against a tree with smooth bark and long, thin, drooping branches. As she watched her parents finish the climb, she whispered under her breath, "Don't worry. I won't let him hurt you." A wisp-like branch tickled her ear and she felt a warm energy in the trunk. She patted it with her hand and went to join her father, who jumped down the last meter, landing lightly on his feet. Despite his recent injury, he seemed to have recovered quite nicely. When Sara approached, he reached behind her and unclipped her canteen from her pack.

Before she knew what was happening, he had the cap off and was bringing it to his lips. "Thanks! That was quite a climb!" She opened her mouth to protest, but it was already too late. He was taking a long drink, and all Sara and her mother could do was look on in stunned silence and watch as excess water trickled down his chin and into the dirt at his feet. "Ahhh!" he said. "That hit the spot!"

The effect was more or less instantaneous. He approached Sara to hand her back the canteen, and when she reached out to take it, he grabbed her wrist, pulled her to him, and reached behind her. She heard the click of the canteen being hooked back onto her pack, but her father didn't pull back right away, and she could feel her breasts pressing into his strong chest. Sara had spent enough time in the ship that she felt she could manage the highly erotic vibes that seemed to emit from every indigenous life form, but she was not immune to them. The scent of masculinity invaded her nostrils and began running roughshod over all the mental barricades she had erected. As he pulled back, finally, he released her wrist, letting his fingers slide off sensually. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear. When she looked back at him, there was, despite the softness of his tone, something in his eyes that told her to tread carefully.

Sara looked over at her mother, who, despite their adventures earlier, looked somewhere between stunned and alarmed. Don caught Sara's glance and regarded his wife. He approached Maggie. "What's going on here?"

"What do you mean?" Maggie asked.

"I mean," Don said, "what is going on with you two?"

"Nothing," Maggie said. Sara grimaced behind her father's back. Her mother wasn't being very convincing. It was probably the influence of the ship.

Don suddenly wheeled around to face Sara. "What?" he accused. "Are you still upset?"

"About what? Why?" Sara asked. She was still distracted by her own attempts to purge her mind of the lustful imaginings her father's scent had triggered.

"About the little hook-up you were supposed to have," he said. "With the Forrester boy?" He winked at her.

"Oh, uh..." Sara had genuinely completely forgotten about that. It seemed like small potatoes in comparison with the week's discoveries.

"You were going to what?" Maggie asked, surprised. Almost instantly, she felt silly for not knowing. Her daughter was incredibly hot, smart, and self-reliant. Frankly, she was surprised that Sara had only recently begun to explore sex. She certainly jumped right into the deep end, Maggie thought.

"She was going to lay back and let some boy pop her cherry," her father said. Was that a hint of jealousy?

"I doubt she'd just lay back," her mother said under her breath, but not nearly quietly enough. Both husband and daughter regarded her with shock.