The snap of bone under Sharon's newly calcified teeth echoed through the kitchen. Gnawing and slurping sounds filled the air as her alien tongue greedily extracted the marrow that once supported her late husband's frame. The remnants of twenty years - a scatter of limbs, pulped torso - painted the pantry in arterial red.
He tasted good. A simple and horrifying truth.
Their marriage, a tapestry woven over two decades of shared intimacies, had frayed to this: him a protein source: her, the apex predator. The passionate joining she once craved to reignite their sputtering love life had mutated into this gruesome communion. No pang of loss echoed through the void that human sentiment used to reside. Now only the cold certainty of that promise the goddess offered; a life of boundless love and sex.
A week went by, an unfortunate time needed for the metamorphosis. Not even a note from her to her husband as she heartily agreed to follow her new religion. After that week, she had come home expecting to be welcomed with open arms and lots of sex. Especially now that she looked better than she did in her twenties. The goddess's first promise had manifested in a gooey, wet birth from a pod. Reborn, everything nubile, tight, and disturbingly young, she'd rushed home, eager to display her renewed allure.
The island in the kitchen had separated them. Even as he flew into a blind rage and began screaming at her, she wasn't sure when the instinct took over reason. A coldness erupted as well as claws, tentacles and teeth. He had tried to run and had been tackled into the pantry with a growl. Her first orgasm in her alien form coincided with a shuddering spray of viscous fluid and a violent bloom of blood from him. Even as the echoes of her monstrous climax faded, slick tentacles unfurled from her flesh to join the feast.
Another crack of bone continued the disturbing symphony of consumption. The clinical dismantling of her former life continued. The wet sucking and slurping became a perverse lullaby to her. Slowly, methodically, her body absorbed the consumed mass, the nubile form she'd emerged in solidifying into dangerous curves.
A smack of her lips ended the feast. The lingering tang of marrow and blood finally receded, even as her feeding tentacles retracted, their mawed openings shrinking back into rows of subtle suckers. Nothing left, she sighed in contentment for the moment of peace she now had.
Alien senses picked up a change in the air even before the front door opened. A familiar scent, tinged with a subtle, almost metallic undertone, tickled her alien senses. Things moved quickly as tentacles reabsorbed into her body. Ripples of iridescent color spread across her skin, coalescing into the semblance of clothing. A nice pair of curve-hugging yoga pants with flared bottoms and a dangerously low-cut v-neck that showcased the augmented swell of her breasts. Of course, her nipples were thick and outlined by the shirt.
The front door opened and slammed shut. The scent of his youthful energy, so different from the cloying tang of death, sparked an immediate, unwelcome response within her alien core. Heavy footfalls echoed in the house as her son Luke ran up the stairs to his room. His door slammed shut with unnecessary force, and the rhythmic thudding of his footsteps across the floor spoke of restless energy.
Sharon let out a whimper that turned into a groan. The primal imperative to propagate, a newly awakened directive within her alien biology, fixated on the closest viable host. Son or not, an overwhelming new need to breed blossomed in her. A dark curiosity stirred within her. How would this new allure affect him? A dangerous game began to formulate in her mind. Husband lost, a sliver of something akin to maternal caution warned against tempting fate if he proved unworthy. The fantasy festered in her mind as she chewed her lip.
A march up the stairs. A predator drawn to its prey. Idle chat, inconsequential questions masking a predatory gaze. Then, a feigned indignation at his imagined leering, a deliberate display of her augmented breasts. The anticipation of his stammered excuses, the silent pressure to beg for a closer look.
More likely, she would find him in one of his moods of dismissal. But even that could be manipulated. No young man, surely, could resist such an offering, even from his own mother. Mommy knew best, after all
The burgeoning heat between her legs propelled her towards the stairs, a silent promise of corruption hanging in the air. Her pussy buzzed with her fantasy. A singular need taking over as she needed to fuck. Need his youthful seed to spurt into her. Shivering in perverse want, she ran a hand over her confined vulva. With the need for sex taking over, she began to walk towards the stairs. That is, until a knock on the door stopped her in her tracks.
"Now?" A frustrated snarl rumbled in her chest, the interruption a cruel thwarting of her mounting desire. "Of course now."
Closing her eyes and leaning her head back, she sniffed the air. A familiar scent, tinged with a subtle musk, filtered into her nostrils. With a shudder of annoyance and a few calming deep breaths, she walked towards the door. On her way, she passed hanging photos of her family through the years, but they elicited no flicker of recognition.
"Hey Veronica," Sharon greeted as the front door pulled back. "I didn't realize your transformation was complete."
"I just got out actually and wanted to see if you'd let me get a shower real quick before I went home. Feel like I smell... you know," Veronica replied with a shrug while smiling, a hint of something shared in her eyes.
Sharon's gaze lingered on Veronica, a prickle of unease beneath her skin. Veronica had been... ample. A memory of wide hips and breasts heavy with gravity surfaced in Sharon's mind. The familiar silhouette was there, but the slackness of flesh had vanished, replaced by a disturbing firmness.
"My son is home," Sharon said after she finished taking in Veronica's improved look.
"Oh really?" Veronica responded with a bounce. Her ample cleavage bounced before resettling themselves on display, a hint of entitlement in her smile. "Is he available?"
A possessive fury, primal and unexpected, flared within Sharon. "Look you slut, he's mine."
Veronica leaned her head back and sniffed the air.
"Already seems like you've had one," she said as a matter of fact, her gaze knowing. A flicker of guilt, quickly suppressed by her possessiveness, touched Sharon. "I haven't had the opportunity yet. Let me have him."
Such a demand leveled at a mother whose frothy loins ached to claim her son's manhood. An alien growl rumbled from her.
Veronica wasn't deterred in her pushing of the issue, and Sharon hated it. She growled again. A low, guttural sound rumbled in her chest, and the edges of her fingernails began to lengthen into wickedly curved points. Stress brought about her alien features, which began coming out with her teeth sharpening. Suddenly, a vise clamped around her skull before her whole body fell under an intense burning sensation. The
Goddess then spoke to her in a commanding and domineering voice.
"You dare deny a sister the opportunity to worship?: The Goddess exclaimed in anger at her. You, who had a chance already and squandered it on the remnants of your former bond?"
"Please Goddess, it's my son," she cried out in a mixture of searing pain and desperate anguish.
There was a moment of silence and the pain slowly dissipated. Recovering, Sharon rested against the door frame, tears streaming down her face, the raw agony leaving her weak and trembling.
"Your recent failure to secure a bond has bred hesitation in your purpose. Kinship is irrelevant. You should have initiated the bonding the instant your transformation was complete. Now, you will watch your sister induct him into the fold."
Sharon wanted to protest, but her will was now subservient to the divine decree. Her son or not, to defy the Goddess was to invite oblivion.
"He's worthy?" She asked, surprised after mustering up some composure.
"If you were, then the offspring should be as well."
"Thank you Goddess, I'll facilitate this sacred rite with my sister."
The pressure disappeared, signaling to Sharon that the unexpected visit from her Goddess had ended. Now, the severity of the situation sank in. Had anyone else talked to the Goddess? Been visited mentally by the cosmic being? Oblivion narrowly averted, she realized with a shudder, not really knowing how the Goddess would have punished her in this situation.
"Well Veronica, come on in," she said in defeat after a few more moments of reflection. She stood aside, giving the unnaturally curvaceous woman space to walk past her. Veronica accepted the invitation with a knowing smile before she walked in.
