Lavender

Conclusion

"Violet," she thought. "I can't exactly call this bathwater, so I'll call it Violet. Lavender is too obvious, purple's too dull. It's so warm. It's like tea. Gosh! What am I thinking?! I can't believe this is happening! It's right out of a tabloid!"

Betty lay in the warm Violet for three days. Violet flowed through her body; it filled her lungs and her stomach. Oxygen was extracted, alien proteins were processed and metabolized. Her newly efficient digestive tract produced no waste.

Betty found the lack of boredom to be the most interesting part. She thought she would feel restless after lying still for such a long period. She could move but sluggishly. Occasionally she would look at her swollen belly, "Swelling," she thought, and run her hands over it: "Something is happening in there."

She felt movement; not quite the kicks and bumps Robert gave her when he was in the womb. It was a soft vibration with an occasional pulse; almost mechanical, as if something were being assembled.

On the second day her belly began to throb; expanding and contracting like a bellows. It felt...sensual: "This is making me horny," she thought. "Hmmm, breasts or cunt? I'll take breasts, my cunt's been given enough exercise. Besides, the tea needs cream."

"I should be hysterical. I should be crazy. I think I am," she thought. "I'm pregnant with something. Maybe it'll burst out of me like the alien from the movie. I'm supposed to be terrified."

The Violet was warm, soothing, quiet; Betty wished she could lie in it forever. "This is what it felt like in the womb." The contractions began on the third day. Betty felt an almost nostalgic familiarity, "Here comes my third child."

She felt warm liquid flow from her womb, down her birth canal. Her belly deflated slightly. She looked over the curve and noticed dark fluid drifting from between her legs: "I hope it isn't blood." The movement in her womb increased; something brushed against her cervix. It was coming: "I'm about to give birth. I better assume the position. No stirrups, no doctor. This is going to be hard." Betty thought for a moment, "On second thought," she remarked, "It's good the doctor isn't here. He'd have a coronary."

She placed her hands on the sides of the tub and carefully pulled herself up; the sides were slippery. The time on her back hadn't stopped the sluggishness. Her head broke the surface for the first time in three days.

The transition from "liquid" to air was brief. One cough expelled the fluid, the next breath sucked in the air. A few moments passed while her breathing returned to normal. Betty ignored the labor pains (not an easy task) until she felt the creature enter her birth canal: "Well, time to do this." She spread her legs, gritted her teeth, and began to push.

"I never thought I would go through this again," she thought, "I can't believe I'm so calm. I'm about to give birth to an alien. I'm a living, breathing tabloid story." Between the contractions, Betty thought for a few moments, "Maybe this experience was so crazy, so...weird, my mind just had to accept it; or maybe the alien did something to my brain; maybe it's both."

She pushed through the experience; her body remembered after fifteen years. The expanded cervix; the unbearable pressure on her vaginal walls; the slow, agonizing passage through the birth canal.

She fell into a familiar pattern ("Huff...huff...huff..."), pushing on every third breath. The birth was complicated by the slippery sides of the tub, so Betty bent her legs, placed her hands on the knees and braced herself against the end.

The birth was shorter than Laura but longer than Robert; Betty thought it was because of the Alien. The Alien was larger and longer than a human baby. The pressure within her body was excruciating, "It's just like the movie." The labor took ten long, agonizing hours, through the late afternoon and into the night. She exhaled a relieved sigh when it finally popped out. It settled to the bottom of the tub and lay still for several moments.

There was a swirl of violet. It thrashed around for a few moments before its head broke the surface. It was a smaller copy of the Alien; "From sex to pregnancy to birth in three days. That's a record." Other than its size, there was nothing "babyish" about the creature. It did not cry, but emitted a series of clicks and gurgles: "I guess that's crying," Betty thought. It wasn't her "son" in the purest sense but Betty did feel some connection: "My body was used to create this thing."

The creature swam forward and crawled onto her body. Six tiny arms sprouted from it sides; the hands fastened onto her left boob. Betty ignored the impulse to fight the Alien off: "It's my baby. It wants to feed." She did not object when it started to suck on her tit. Betty cradled the Alien as it sucked, not so much from motherly instinct; she just felt foolish sitting there with her hands at her sides.

Her nipples grew hard; breast milk (albeit the genetically altered kind) flowed into the Alien. Her breasts were tender and sensitive and Betty squirmed a bit. The boob action made her cum briefly. It was a far cry from the wrestling match of three days ago.

The Alien made faint slurping sounds as it sucked; with each swallow it grew in size and length. He (Betty started to think of it as "He") transferred to her right breast and repeated the action. "More sucking," she thought, "and I'm cumming again."

When the creature was finished it was roughly the size of its predecessor. He rested on her body in roughly the same position as his "Father". Betty realized her legs were spread; the Alien's lower body rested between her thighs, its skin rubbing against her pubic hair. She felt her pussy getting wet. "Oh no!" she thought, "It's happening again." She couldn't take another "massage", or another "pregnancy". The Alien stared at her; then he took his upper right hand, placed it on her forehead, and began to stroke it. "What's it doing?" she asked.

Betty looked at the Alien; at first, his face seemed just as unreadable as the other. Seconds passed and she thought she saw something different: a shift in his eyes, a slight movement in his mouth; an impression or a feeling. "You're welcome," she said, "Why did I say that?" The Alien stopped stroking her and climbed out of the tub. She watched as it slithered out of the bathroom and into the garden. He moved much faster than his "Father" and was gone in an instant.

Betty lay in the bathtub for several minutes. "I've got to get up. I've been in this tub for three days," she thought, "one hell of a soaking." It was difficult, "Why shouldn't it be after what I've been through." The sides were slippery and she had been mostly immobile, but a few minutes later, she was standing by the side of the tub, waiting for the feeling to come into her legs. She looked at herself; no stretch marks, no water wrinkles: "Somehow I'm not surprised." Violet ran down her body, puddled on the floor, and ran down the drains.

Betty left the bathtub and walked, on wobbly legs, into the garden. It was a summer night, no moon, starry; the weather was warm. The liquid evaporated on her skin, cooling her. Betty was naked; she didn't care, there was no one to see. She didn't mind if someone had: "Let them watch."

Was that a flash in the west? She wasn't sure. That streak across the sky; a falling star? His spaceship? Three days ago she stepped into the bathtub for a few hours' relaxation. Instead she underwent the most intense sexual experience of her life, followed by the strangest anyone could know: "But nobody will," she thought, "nobody would believe it. They'd put me away or do experiments on me. I'd never see Laura and Bobby again."

Betty looked at her body; she was changed; not just in her thoughts, but in her entire self. "I'm different inside. That creature changed me. I can feel it." She looked towards the house: "I'm going to have to drain the tub. The kids will be home in a few days." Betty thought, "This has been the weirdest week," as she walked back to the house.

Seventy five degrees and it's a beautiful summer afternoon; Laura and Bobby Roberts are back from vacation. They did not have a good time; one week with their traitor Dad and his brainless blonde bitch of a girlfriend.

The Girlfriend (they refused to call her stepmother) told them she was expecting, so it meant they were going to have a brother or sister; they didn't want a brother or sister. Dad was no help. They knew from a young age that he was a self absorbed shit. He confirmed it by ignoring them for the whole week. He was more interested in his clients...and Her. On the plane home they both agreed: Mom was right; when they were old enough they'd break all ties with him. All in all, not a good time; they are glad to be home. Mom meets them at the door in a blouse and jeans. "Hi kids," she asks, hugging them, "Did you have a good trip?" "Don't ask." Laura answers, hugging back. "'Sniff...sniff', Mom you smell great. Is that new perfume?" "No."

End