Dr. Porneau's Pet: Roger Does The Other Thing
Tiffany floated in liquid bliss, dreaming of Mark, an ex-boyfriend. He was doing the thing he did so well. "Mmmm! That's good Mark, keep going," she purred. They were by the pool at her parents' house: Spring Break '04. She was lying against Mark. Mark's wonderful artist hands were kneading and sculpting her breasts. Tiffany was hot and wet. "I'm going to fuck him soon," she thought, "if only he wasn't such a shit."
Mark tended to sleep with his models, which was why she broke up with him. "Hey! Why am I thinking about that?!" she asked. "Wait, I didn't find out about the models until a year later. Which means this isn't '04...which means I'm dreaming...which means I'm actually....Oh no!!"
Tiffany opened her eyes, expecting to see the monster, its tentacles inside her, its mouth sucking and pumping. Instead it was something else, an unexpected shock.
She didn't know what to process first. The two deformed hands, elongated fingers studded with tiny suction cups, squeezing and massaging her breasts (which squirted milk with the same fountaining intensity as before)? Or the swollen round blob of flesh that used to be her flat belly?
"Omigod!! I'm knocked up?!!" she asked. Her memories of the tank were a vague swirl of orgasms, punctuated by wet slurps and watery gurgles. She didn't exactly remember feeling her belly bloat; just a loud gurgle as of a water balloon filling. All other sensations were obscured by her numerous orgasms.
Tiffany's mind ping ponged back and forth. She settled on the hands; their expert boob-diddling, grudgingly acknowledged. Tiffany looked up and gasped. "Hi," said Dr. Porneau.
His arms were over her shoulders, hands brought to her breasts, kneading away. He was kind of cute; a geeky, nerdy cute. He had curly, bushy black hair, gray-blue eyes, a long straight nose, a thin mouth. He looked just like the pictures from the tabloids.
Tiffany liked what she saw but couldn't ignore his nudity, his boob-molesting hands, and the fact there was a monster in the pool, "What?! Hey!! You're alive?!! And....wait! Stop that!! Get off me!!"
Dr. Porneau looked at her blankly, "Uh no?"
Tiffany struggled, a feeble spasm of belated outrage. "It's no use struggling; I gave you a sedative. Besides, we're kind of entangled at the moment," Porneau said.
"But....but....we have to get away! There's a.....thing!" cried Tiffany.
"I know, I know. It's my pet Roger. He's kind of a horn dog. He'll pork just about anything that moves." "He's your...what?!!" Tiffany incredulous. "Well, up to this point, it's been mostly dolphins and seals. You're the first blonde," Porneau smiled. "You!...You!...You let that thing in the pool with me!! "Weeellll, you were hot and I wanted to see what Roger would do. I don't usually get hot girls on the island. More often it's drug dealers and old fishermen. Maybe an occasional surfer," Porneau's unrepentant tone was infuriating.
"You bastard! Oooh! I'll kill you! Look at me; I'll sue! I'll have you arrested! You broke so many goddamn laws! I'm a reporter, dammit! I'll tell! I'll ruin your ass!" Tiffany struggled, but the sedatives were powerful.
Armand waited until she calmed before he spoke. "Uh, before you sue me, or kill me, or bury me, can I say something? Uh, I'm a rich and powerful geneticist, kind of a mad scientist? I have close connections with powerful people, including government. I made some phone calls while Roger was...well. Right now your boat is gone and, um, you've sort of disappeared. Temporarily, of course, but it can be permanent."
"You can't do this! It's illegal!"
"I'm rich, powerful, and connected. I can do anything," Armand replied, "Now, um, I'm going to move you a bit. I want you to see something."
Armand shifted his body; Tiffany saw they were in a shallow part of the pool. "His body feels soft," she thought, "Soft, warm, and pliable." She felt something wriggle near the crack of her ass. Her breasts "squished!" as Armand continued his massage. She struggled not to admit the massage felt good, "Almost as good as....no! Can't think of that!"
Armand propped her so she could see over the curve of her belly. Her legs were spread and tangled in "Pink taffy?" No, tentacles; pale, pink, and studded with suckers. They spiraled around her legs, from the thighs to the ankles. They held her open, exposing her sex swollen labia.
The tentacles were not the unsettling part; Tiffany was more than familiar with tentacles. The color, the same skin color as the hands fondling her melons, was the shocker. "Those are...those are...." she stuttered.
"Yes they are," Armand replied.
"But....but....but how?!"
"Just a stupid accident, really. I was monkeying around with some mollusk DNA. There was a storm, a lightning flash. I was startled and jabbed myself with the needle. I'd go into details, but you're a reporter. I can't trust you just yet."
"I'll say!" Tiffany thought, "I've hit the jackpot! Giant monsters! Mutated mad scientists! If I can figure a way out of this mess, I'll be famous! Pulitzer famous!"
Armand moved his hands to her belly. "I know what you're thinking," he said, "I can't let you go right now, at least until we figure out what to do with you."
Tiffany felt another chill; she realized the danger she was in, "So why am I still alive? And what's that, uh, bump I feel?"
"That's my dick. It's very pliable, see?" Tiffany gasped as Armand's cock slid through the crack of her ass. "N-n-no! Ung!" she grunted as the member snaked across the rectal walls. Her sphincter crunched, but couldn't stop Armand's penetration. He plumbed almost to her lower intestine. Meanwhile, his hands stroked her sensitive belly, from navel to just below the melons. A ticklish and intensely arousing feeling warred with the deep invasion.
"No! Stop! Urrnng!" Tiffany grunted. Her belly and breasts heaved against Armand's hands. She ground her teeth, clenched and unclenched her hands. Her body was shiny with milk, sweat, water, and sex.
"It's been years since I've had some, and you're the hottest item to come on the island since, well ever. I'm taking advantage while I can."
Tiffany's outrage outweighed the mild flattery she felt. Her traitorous body quivered in response to the belly rub; speaking of which, "Ung! What...what happened to my belly
?"
"Oh, that's just the embryos. Roger has all sorts of DNA; he pumped a bunch of it in you. I didn't see myself, the camera malfunctioned, but the sperm found your eggs, so you're going to be a mother.....temporarily."
"What do you mean, temporarily?" she asked.
"Oh don't worry; I've seen the movie. They won't bust out of your stomach. It'll be quite conventional, actually. In fact, you might even enjoy it; the dolphins did. No, what I meant to say is Roger has certain gastronomic tastes. He enjoys fish, breast milk, and, well, his own young. He's just waiting for the embryos to develop. It happens reasonably quick. I'm rubbing your belly because you look sexy pregnant."
