By Wayne and Ann Triskelion
Comments welcome...
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Fifteen Nautical Miles East of Latigo Key
Sailors lowered the launch down from the upper deck of the freighter. Corazon de Balboa was a medium-sized freighter flying under a Panamanian flag but the boys in Langley could tell you it was actually owned and operated by the Cuban Resistance. Long ago, she had participated in the ill-fated Bay of Pigs Invasion.
In 1989, she was used to ferry supplies from Miami to support the anti-Castro freedom fighters.
What the boys in Langley didn't know in 1989 was the freedom fighters in the Cuban jungle were under the command, or rather the
control
, of a former Catholic nun known only as Sister.
They were also no longer quite human.
On the launch, Nurse Cordelia Heron held onto the wooden bench with both hands as the launch descended toward the gentle waves. It felt wonderful to finally be in her true uniform.
For the past decade she had worn simple jungle fatigues as she tended the wounds of partisans wounded in skirmishes.
The CIA recruited her from the UCLA School of Nursing back in 1978. She was a patriot - a notion that seemed hopelessly naive now. Everything changed when Sister took over her little jungle hospital. Cordelia and the other nurses and doctors had been spirited away in the middle of the night on a speedboat.
Morpheus had taken Cordelia and the others, molding their bodies and minds - their appetites as well. They had been called to greater service than that of countries or political ideologies.
They were going to change the whole world.
They were going to change the very concept of humanity.
She had almost cried when Sister forced them to wear their fatigues again once they returned to the jungle. Cotton didn't feel right against her skin.
She smiled. There was no reason to hide any longer. They were invading the United States, not cowering in some hole in the jungle.
She wore her tight, white and red latex nurse's outfit, her nipples clearly outlined by the rubber dress.
Cordelia smiled at the sailor holding the boat's tiller.
He couldn't take his eyes off the nurses.
A huge bulge tented his fatigues.
She spread her legs, letting him see her hairless pussy. No more need for the uncomfortable panties - they soaked through in less than an hour and had to be replaced constantly in the hot jungle.
Cordelia loved the feel of the sea air blowing across her firm thighs and up her short skirt.
The sailor was staring, enthralled by her pussy.
He almost fell out of the boat when, reaching the end of the ropes, the hull finally touched the ocean waves and the launch bucked up and then down.
Cordelia laughed playfully as he blushed crimson. "Amy? Tend to the ensign."
"
Madre Dios
," he whispered as Amy, a tall redheaded nurse walked in her heels across the pitching deck of the small boat.
Amy's footing was sure. They were the next generation of Transformed, the soldiers like the man at the tiller being far from the perfection of Cordelia and her colleagues.
Amy stood a head taller than the soldier. "English," she said as she ran her finger down his uniform shirt. "If you speak Spanish? I'll stop."
"Stop... what?"
Amy laughed. "This." She lowered herself gracefully into a crouch on the heels. She reached out and unzipped his fatigues.
"Oh, my God," he moaned.
"Better," Amy said. She reached into his pants. Then she nodded and looked over her shoulder at the other nurses. "Vintage... 1986 by the girth."
The nurses began to laugh.
Amy hauled out his cock - a thirteen-inch python already dripping with precum. She lowered her lips to kiss the head.
Then she stopped. "Don't you have to... start the engine or something?"
The other nurses had already released the bow and stern lines.
The sailor jumped. "Oh,
si
!"
Amy looked up disapprovingly. "Uh, uh. Bad boy."
"Sorry! Sorry. I... have to start the engine!" He pressed a button and the engine sputtered to life.
The little boat headed west.
"Good boy," Amy whispered.
She engulfed his cock to the balls.
"Jesus! Oh, fuck!"
Amy bobbed up and down on his big dick.
Cordelia smiled. "Try to keep us on course, ensign."
"Yes, Ma'am," the man stammered.
She fingered herself gently as Amy blew the sailor.
Of course, they fucked with abandon back in the jungle as well but out here? There was a joy beyond lust. They were finally doing the job they were meant to do.
And Cordelia and the other nurses now
looked
the part.
"Fucking throat is amazing," the ensign moaned.
Amy stroked him with lips, tongue, and throat. Her hands firmly on his buttocks and not stroking his cock.
Had he ever been sucked this way?
Cordelia doubted it.
Amy slipped one hand down and pulled on the ensign's bull balls as she sucked.
Cordelia laughed. In a few minutes, Amy would shove her middle finger up his ass and hit his prostate. What would follow would be a torrent of screaming grunts and a tidal wave of cum.
She was familiar with boats. If necessary, Cordelia could put them back on course should the ensign pass out. Early generations of Transformed - prototypes - were not always able to recover from a hard cum like the newer models.
Dr. Thompson, the Whoremaster prototype was a notable exception. Though no woman could take his massive cock in her pussy or ass, two to three women working together could rub him to orgasm.
Cordelia had taken part in one of those particular orgies, though she had to step away before Thompson ejaculated a fire hose blast of cum that covered the other two nurses in cream.
She had envied the heavy glazing the other two received; however, the other two nurses were
unbound
- fully transformed but bound to no one. Whoremaster cum did nothing but make them feel happy to be alive.
Cordelia's transformation was incomplete. Finishing Ambrosia directly from a Whoremaster or mixed up in a lab would bind her forever to the DNA donor.
She requested to remain incomplete until she found someone to be bound to. Some called her a hopeless romantic, and, what of it? She was one of the professionals, serving not only with sexual skills but also with medical prowess. Didn't she also deserve to find an eternal soulmate?
She hesitated to say 'love'. Love might be misconstrued as a desire for marriage.
Marriage was something strictly forbidden by Sister.
"I hear there are Whoremasters on the island," Nurse Charlotte said beside her.
She looked at the big breasted blonde and nodded. "Several."
Charlotte looked around nervously. "We might get bound."
Cordelia stroked her hair. "Maybe." Of the seven nurses on the launch, only she and Charlotte were incomplete and waiting for finishing Ambrosia.
Charlotte touched Cordelia's thigh. "We might get bound together."
Cordelia leaned in and kissed her.
Her lips were warm and coated with salty spray from the ocean.
Before Morpheus, Cordelia Heron considered Sapphic lust a disease. Now it felt perfectly normal, and she couldn't understand what ever made her think it wasn't.
Especially with Charlotte.
Charlotte laid her head on Cordelia's shoulder. "Together, okay? Please, Cordelia?"
"Then stay close to me on the island," Cordelia whispered.