Curves Ch 01 1

Thanks to Tangent Joker for the edit.

"So! To summarize: The Zorgon Empire has contracted us to produce an army of clones for its new offensive against the Cretan Federation, and the Cretan Federation has contracted us to produce colonists to bolster their territories against the Zorgons. So you see the problem. We have a major conflict of interest ticking like a shit bomb. We need to figure how to profit from both parties while keeping them in the dark. Suggestions anyone?"

"Ahem!"

"Cough! Cough!"

"Well. . . er. . ."

"Etc. . . etc. . ."

"Uh sir, I have a suggestion."

"Yes, most junior executive with the brain of a Dalgonian flea?"

"Um, well, research division has just bio-engineered a new factory ship. They call a BFT. It stands for Breeder Factory and Transport."

"Hmmm. Go on."

"Well, the ship was engineered from an extremely prolific jellyfish from the Protean moons near Sirius. I propose we install an A.I., send it to an obscure but inhabited planet, and let the ship fulfill our contracts."

"Good idea, but the planet most be out of the way. Way out of the way."

"We've scouted some promising prospects along the rim, sir."

"Okay, do it. If your idea works you will get a promotion to just junior executive with the brain of a Dalgonian flea."

"Yes sir, thank you sir."

Unfortunately, by the time the ship reached its destination, the Zorgons and Cretans had effectively and apocalyptically resolved their differences, voiding the contract. It didn't change the ship's mission, however, and the company kept shoddy records.

***

In high school the women were known as the Curvy Club: Maria Cantalone, Charlotte Hughes, and Lynn O'Connor; best friends since junior high. The girls bonded over three common characteristics: they were chubby, blue collar brunettes, in affluent, blonde, and thin obsessed Malibu.

New jobs and key promotions had brought their families to the wealthy California town. The effect put East Coast (Maria and Charlotte) and Midwest (Lynn) into conflict with Southern California. The boys either ignored or teased. The girls, titled with names like Britney, Tiffany, or Brandi, snarked and bullied. The future club came together for mutual survival. The blondes anointed the brunettes the Curvy Club as an insult to their chubbiness. And then the girls grew up.

It happened in high school. The girls grew up and out. . . in all the places that mattered. Their parents encouraged them to pursue athletics which toned their muscles. Over the freshmen and sophomore years, the girls gained another foot in height, redistributing the body fat. Much of the redistribution went to their breasts and asses. The result: fat and flat became curvy and stacked, and the boys noticed.

Seemingly overnight, the blonde cheerleading Paris Hilton wannabees faced competition from the three curviest, hottest, most voluptuous teens in the state, and the Curvy Club gave as good as they got. . . with interest.

The high school snakepit, combined with the girls' street smart tough and smoldering sexuality, produced a trio of hot young women who embarked upon a decade of success in business, marriage, and entertainment.

Each year the Curvy Club gathered in a pre-chosen area to catch up on each others' lives and bask in the glow of youth, beauty, and success. This year they picked a small isolated lake in British Columbia.

"What a beautiful lake. What did you say it was called?"

"Chuglick or something. Difficult to pronounce," replied Charlotte.

"Well Chicklet or not, I'm swimming in it, soon as we unpack. God! I'm hot!" exclaimed Maria. "What do you think Lynn?"

Lynn, busy with her bag, replied with an approving hand sign. "Gup! Gup!" Charlotte said. "Mmmm! Mmmm!" agreed Maria.

The women had come up with codes and signals in junior high, as part of their war against the blondes. Hand gestures, body movements, and nonsense sounds were the girls' shield against the bullies. The habit continued even after they blossomed in high school. "Curvespeak" became their language of choice whenever they came together.

"So how did you find this place," Maria, model, actress, and host of Pow! TV's Truth or Dare Challenge, asked.

"My boyfriend," replied Charlotte, Public Relations Director for Visage, the social network site (it helped that the "boyfriend" was the founder and COB). "He camps a lot. He heard of this place from the locals. I rented the house cheap. The locals keep it up but nobody likes to stay here for some reason. The townies say the big animals avoid this place, so we don't have to worry about bears or wolves or moose or whatever."

"Hmmm, I don't know," said Lynn, the CEO's housewife. "Big animals avoiding the area? Sounds creepy."

"Well, the townies said the First Nations considered the area sacred. Some legend about a god coming from the sky and bestowing the gift of fertility."

"Ha!" laughed Maria. "'Gift of fertility?' Probably just an excuse to fuck."

Lynn and Charlotte chuckled. Maria was always the raunchiest of the trio. "If the tabloids ever found out what she did back in the day. . ." Lynn thought, borrowing her husband's slang. "Girls, can you help me with this stuff? I'm not the bellboy, you know."

The girls picked up their bags and tromped to the house. The house was a wreck. "'The locals keep it up' Charlie?" Maria scowled.

"Damn!" Charlotte cursed. "No swim today. Come on girls, let's get to work."

Hours of trash, dust, cobwebs, unpacking, and respective showers later, the women were in the living room, sipping Chardonnay and listening to. . . nothing.

"Well, the locals weren't kidding. I can't hear a cricket," Lynn said.

"Good, nothing to keep me up all night. I'm bushed," Charlotte replied.

"You're right, Lynn. The quiet does feel a little creepy," said Maria. "You sure about this place, Charlotte? I see a big potential for cabin fever here."

"Oh good grief, Maria. 'Yaaawn!'" Charlotte replied. "It's only two weeks. Swimming, fishing, no husbands or boyfriends, no dangerous animals, and even the pesky locals stay away. This place is near perfect. Remember Miami Beach?"

"Oohh! Don't remind me," groaned Maria.

"Gup! Gup!" Lynn agreed. Miami Beach was a disaster. The women learned never to try a get together on spring break. None of them would say attracting packs of frat boys wasn't fun, however.

"Well, yaaawwn! I'm going to bed. I'm bushed," Charlotte said. "You girls coming?"

"Aaawnn! Good idea," Maria replied.

"I'm going to stay up a few minutes and finish my wine. Gup! Gup! You bitches!" Lynn smiled. "Gup! Gup!" the two replied. They stood for a second, gazing at each other, reveling in the bonds of friendship and sisterhood. Their heads filled with memories of battles fought, cheerleaders thwarted, boyfriends acquired, and athletes emasculated. "Gup! Gup!" Charlotte said affectionately and went up the stairs with Marie.

Lynn lingered a few more minutes, nursing her wine glass, pondering. "The damn place is just too quiet," she thought. "It's creepy, I feel like something's watching." Suddenly the living room felt too uncomfortable. "I think it's time to go to bed," she thought nervously. "I wonder if I can sleep with one of the girls?"

***

The ship slept beneath the lake, quiet for these thousands of years. It fell to the earth when the forest was near virgin, primeval. Huge glaciers loomed nearby like giant fortresses. They would not stand for long. The glaciers were in retreat.

Witnesses to the landfall included a pack of dire wolves, a grizzly, a lone saber-tooth, and a tribe of aboriginals recently immigrated from a land far to the west. They thought it a god descended from the heavens, and rushed to the site to receive its wisdom. The subsequent events were passed down the ages through song and story.

The women of the tribe received the blessing of fertility, the most beautiful offered as sacrifice. The god returned them to the tribe, fertile and ready to bear more children. The tribe prospered and spread throughout the land, breeding with others who came after and becoming many tribes. The Lake of Mothers became sacred, a place of fear and awe.

Eons later, a new tribe arrived. A tribe of pale skin, strange clothes, and sticks that spat fire. The lake's beauty awed them but they had little time or patience for stories about gods from the sky. They came to explore, trade and, finally, stay. The older tribe had no say in the matter.

The ship spared little concern for the feelings of primates. It had a contract to fulfill, quotas to meet. It knew it faced some problems when it landed. One life form after another was examined and discarded as unsuitable. The arrival of the primates pleased the ship; higher life forms were better for breeding. The primates' belief in the ship's godhood was a bonus. It meant sacrifices, i.e. specimens.

The ship quickly found however advanced the evolutionary scale "Almost but not quite" didn't qualify in terms of suitability. Modifications had to be made. Genes had to be manipulated and spread throughout the populace. The ship performed these functions and then settled down to a short nap.

It should only take a couple of generations or so,

it thought before going into dormancy. It took longer than expected, nor did it account for the convenience of a land bridge in gene dispersal.

***

The next day dawned clear and warm and Charlotte was the first to wake. She stretched, did some push-ups, and yoga before leaving the bedroom. She went through the house, checking on the girls. Maria and Lynn were still asleep. Charlotte decided not to wake them.

The house was quiet except for the "Tick. . .tock. . .tick!" of the grandfather clock. The upstairs windows were open, bringing in the already warm morning air. A lack of birds chirping outside contributed to the near uncomfortable silence. "God, this place feels dead. I can't wait for the girls to wake. Maybe we can go into town later."

Charlotte walked into the kitchen but decided against breakfast. "I think I'll take a swim and a shower first," she thought. "That lake is just too inviting." She walked out the door.

Charlotte was an exerciser of habit, preferring morning swims and yoga before attending to the day's business. She trod to the pier by the lake. The morning was warm, sunny, with a touch of brisk. "The water should still be cool," she thought.

The lake was a calm mirror, reflecting the sky and forest about it. Charlotte gazed into an ethereal looking glass world. "It's beautiful," she thought.

Charlotte thought, briefly, she should go back to fetch her bikini but decided against it. "Fuck it! The girls are asleep and there's no one around." A mischievous smile played across her face.

Charlotte's only clothes were a long T-shirt and pink panties. She was not a lingerie girl. The two articles were stripped and dropped on the wood planks a second later.

She stretched, her double D's prominent in the early morning sun. Her golden brown skin, a gift from her Puerto Rican mother, gleamed with early morning sweat. She took some time for self-admiration before diving in.

Charlotte, like the other girls, represented the best attributes of the curvy woman; not fat but stacked with big hips, a big ass, and a 28" waist line. Every muscle on her body was toned from good exercise and diet. All her attributes were natural, from her 34DD's to her 36" ass.

She took great joy in her looks. The fact of her beauty was revenge in of itself for the humiliations of her early years. She viewed herself in the water, taking in her deep, rich, dark brown hair, her snub nose, bee-stung lips, and dark amber eyes. Those eyes wandered to the treasure between her legs.

Charlotte, along with Lynn and Maria, had laser treatments to remove body hair. While Charlotte and Lynn opted for bald pussies, Maria preferred a tiny, slim, landing strip. Otherwise, the three women were silky smooth from top to bottom.

Charlotte, of the three, was the one with the most prominent clit. It nestled pink and moist within her rose. Her vulva always seemed the most swollen and sensitive, even though Lynn was the one with the largest pussy. Charlotte's hair-trigger sensitivity made her the most popular of the Curvy Club. Her sensitivity wasn't just confined to her pussy. Charlotte's breasts, double D'ed natural cantaloupes, tipped with half-dollar aureoles and pink eraser nipples, saw many a boy's mouth in high school and college.

In the absence of boys and when she was bored, Charlotte's fingers proved useful substitutes. She was often her own source of pleasure and she indulged herself that morning. Her hands played across her soft melons, smoothed over her flat tummy, glided down her quivering pelvis to the wet flower below. Her fingers plunged into the warm, pink rose. Her vulva blushed red. Her clit swelled as its sensitive nerves responded to the fingertips brushing across its thin skin.

Charlotte's gasps hissed forth as she worked her cum-coated fingers between her folds. "God! I wish it was a cock!" she gasped. The wave burst from her womb and flowed up the belly and spine, before exploding white hot in her brain. "Unnnngh!" she moaned, and collapsed to the deck. Cum squirted out of her pussy to splatter on the dry wooden planks. She crouched, trembling on the deck, belly bellowing in and out, until the orgasm passed. "That does it! Tonight me and the girls are going into town to get some," she thought. Charlotte stood, stretched in the sun, and dove in.

Splash! The vibrations of Charlotte's entry activated long dormant sensors. Alarms rang through the ship.

What?!. . .What?!. . .Oh!

Grumbled the A.I. The sensors transmitted, "Possible candidate."

The A.I cocked a positronic eyebrow and activated its camouflaged optics. Small, submerged pebbles watched Charlotte as she floated and swam above the ship.

Hmmm,

the A.I thought.

A primate and a fine specimen of her species too. Should I capture it for examination?

The A.I checked its chronometer.

My! I overslept a bit. The gene modifications must have dispersed by now. Perhaps it's time to proceed to production.

The A.I ordered the ship to prepare a capture while it got the chamber ready.

Charlotte knifed through the water, reveling in the feel of the cool liquid against her skin. She loved to swim. In high school, the swim team beckoned but her curvy body was built wrong for competition. It didn't stop Charlotte from taking a job as a lifeguard in college. It kept the pounds off and her body toned and hot.

She glided through the water like a seal, playfully slick. When she came to the middle of the lake, Charlotte stopped and floated on her back, taking in the bright morning.

"Mmmm, it's so quiet and peaceful," she murmured, unaware of the silent trap unfolding beneath her.

It began as a mild disturbance on the muddy floor; a tiny depression in the silt which deepened into a growing hole. It drew in mud and water as of an expanding sinkhole. A bluish glow appeared in the center and bubbles erupted from the widening hole. The surrounding water began to churn and swirl, forming a long shimmering funnel.

Charlotte first became aware of small bubbles effervescing around her body. The water soon began to boil with jacuzzi-like energy.

"What the. . .?!" Charlotte gasped, startled. The water churned and bubbled. "Holy. . .?! I better get out of here!"

Charlotte didn't understand why the water acted thus but the churning was obviously dangerous. However, in spite of her furious swimming, the young brunette couldn't make headway. In fact, to her horror, she found herself pulled backwards.

"Oh no!" she gulped.

The churning, swirling liquid grabbed the young woman, trapping her in a watery cyclone.

"What's happening?!" Charlotte screamed. She tried desperately to keep her head above the water. "Oh my God! It's a whirlpool!" she realized.

The swirling funnel spun Charlotte deeper and deeper into the lake. The clear morning sky receded to a circle surrounded by an ever growing boarder of dark, glassy water. Charlotte was drowning, unable to maintain her bearings as she twirled around in a watery pirouette. The dark water rushed in a blur. She stopped struggling, accepting the futility of fighting against the whirling maelstrom. Her lungs burned as they filled with fluid. She would have vomited from the dizzying whirl but black spots already clouded her vision. As she twirled ever downward, Charlotte's last thoughts turned to her friends.

"Damn! This is going to ruin the Club's vacation!" And the dark took over.

The whirlpool stopped. A final bubble blew from the depths. Spreading waves faded to tiny ripples, and soon the lake calmed to glassy, mirrored peace. Where it sat. . .waiting.

To Be Continued.