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Ah, the Literotica categories, which to choose? Sci-Fi, it certainly could be and I’ll admit that PC Andrews isn’t a million miles from Torchwood’s Gwen Cooper. And then there’s Erotic Horror, again it would certainly fit. Our heroine is in for a rough ride.
But, at the end of the day, this is a lesbian love story and all the action is Lesbian Sex so that’s where it goes, unless, of course, the Literotica admins decide otherwise.
“Jane, Jane, wake up! Jane, hello, Jane, can you hear me?”
Slowly the insistent voice penetrated the fog surrounding my brain. I wished they would go away. I just wanted to roll over and go back to sleep but they wouldn’t let me, it just went on and on. God, my head hurt. I forced open my eyes and there was a guy in one of those green uniforms ambulance medics wear. He was leaning over me, flashing a torch in my eyes.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“It’s Jane. Jane Hughes.” I looked around me. I was lying on the ground and the street seemed filled with flashing blue lights.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was… milk… corner shop…,” I tried to remember but my brain felt full of thick pea soup. “I’m sorry, it’s all a blur. My head… it really hurts.”
“Given the bump you’ve taken I’m not surprised. Now, there doesn’t seem to be any bones broken but we’re going to take you into hospital for a proper check up. Is there anyone we should be getting in touch with?”
“My mother… no, better not, she’d have a fit and I’d never get a moment’s peace. No there’s no one.”
“And you’ve no idea what happened?” A new, female, voice asked.
As the medic started messing around setting up the stretcher I rolled over to see a PC crouched down on the other side of me. Even in the state I was in the first thing that struck me was that she was female, quite young, maybe my age, and a bit of a looker. OK, so I’ve got a thing about uniforms but she wore hers well and, if I hadn’t been feeling so lousy,…. God, talk about inappropriate. There I was, lying in the gutter, feeling like shit and the only thing I could think of was how sexy the PC looked.
“I’m sorry officer. All I can say is that I went out to the corner shop to get some milk and the next thing I know I’m lying in the street with a splitting headache.”
“Is this your handbag?”
“That’s right. Is anything….”
“We found it lying on the ground next to you. There’s money in your purse and your mobile is still there so it doesn’t look like you’ve been the victim of a mugging. What’s more, there are no obvious signs of a road traffic accident. From the evidence that’s at hand we’re going to put this down as a purely medical emergency and the police will take no further interest in the case. However, if you do remember anything and want to talk to us, then you can always contact me at the station. Just ask for PC Andrews. Here’s my card.”
“PC Andrews,” I repeated looking at the card. “If I remember anything then I’ll get in touch.”
“I think that’s more than enough for now,” the medic cut in. “Come along; let’s get you into the ambulance. It’s time we were off.”
The stretcher, with me now on it, was lifted up into the back of the waiting ambulance and I was whisked away to Melchester General. Once we got there they prodded and poked, asked me a million questions and even kept me in overnight but nothing came up positive. In the morning they gave me another battery of tests but still they couldn’t find any obvious signs of anything wrong and, eventually, I was discharged.
And, for a few days, that was it. Young woman has fainting fit in High Street. No great deal. The hospital, like the police, wrote it off as “one of those things” and, in the end so did I. The headache went away and the bruise faded and all returned to normal. Well, what appeared to be normal. It was a couple of weeks later when the cramps started.
At first it put it down to that time of the month, except it was nowhere near that time of the month. What’s more it was getting worse and worse, far worse than anything I had had before. I just about managed to hang on at work until, as soon as the flexi-time agreements allowed, I struggled home on the bus, nearly bent double with the pain.
I must have taken half a dozen ibuprofen, all washed down with plenty of paracetamol before I took myself off to bed and curled up under the covers. I’d never known such pain. It was getting more and more intense and I was wondering if, or rather when, I should call an ambulance.
And then, with a spear of agony that shot through my body, I went into a spasm. I’d have screamed the place down except my vocal chords seemed to be paralysed. Please, please, make it stop, make it stop, make it…, make it…, stop.
It was as if something in side me had snapped, the tension released, the pain was gone and, immediately, the relief was glorious. A warm glow came from deep within my belly and spread throughout the rest of my body. I lay back, panting with exhaustion, and relaxed, wallowing casino oyna in the sense of release.
But, as I recovered my breath, I had the strangest sensation. It was as if there was something inside me, something sending little tingling tendrils searching through my body. Strangest of all, was the feeling as if these tendrils were trying on my body for size, the way you might try on a new jacket in the shop. Trying one arm, and then another, stretching, bending, feeling the fit, getting used to it. It wasn’t a bad feeling, far from, and when the tendrils reached the sensitive spots like my breasts or between my thighs it was anything but bad but, even so, it was more than worrying.
But, if the sensations throughout my body were strange, they were nothing compared to what seemed to be happening in my head. It was as if every memory, everything I knew, everything I had experienced, was a series of file cards and something was rifling through them, examining them, learning all about me. This wasn’t good and I was starting to panic.
‘Ah, a female,’ as clear as day I sensed rather than heard the voice inside my head.
‘Who’s that? Who are you?’ Now I was really scared.
‘Calm down,’ the voice said and, suddenly, that’s exactly what I did. It was as if the panic had been turned off with a switch.
‘Who are you and what did you just do to me?’
‘I’m… I’m a visitor. I shall be staying here a while. I cannot afford to have you panic so I stopped it.’
‘Stopped it? How did you stop it?’
‘Just a simple chemical change to your body. Most of your emotions are simple chemical changes. For instance….’
A feeling of bliss suffused my body.
‘Stop that! Stop mucking around with me. I don’t like it. Go away.’
‘But I have only just arrived and I shall be staying for a while. Do not try to fight me, you will not win. The more you co-operate the better it will be for both of us. Now, let me have a look at you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Find a mirror. I want to examine you.’
‘No way! I’m not taking orders from you.’
‘Oh, I think you will. You’ll do anything I say because, if you don’t, I have a number of ways of making you. I could cause you pain,’ an agonising stab ran through my stomach, ‘or I could just take control.’
To my amazement my body began to move and, in a jerky, uncoordinated fashion, like a bizarre string puppet, I started to get up out of the bed. However, I only made a couple of steps before I crashed to the ground.
‘Hmm… bipedal locomotion is a little more complex than I thought. It will come with practice but, in the meantime, I suggest that you obey anyway or maybe I need to hurt you again?’
‘No, I’ll do what you want.’ I said with some resignation.
‘Good. If you cooperate then we can both enjoy the benefits.’ This time I felt a warm, rather sexy urge wash through me. ‘Now, I need to inspect you. Show me yourself in a mirror.’
I picked myself up off the floor and went over to my wardrobe which had a full length mirror inside the door. I opened it up and struck a pose.
‘Remove these clothes. How am I supposed to inspect you when you’re clothed?’
With a sigh I pulled off my pyjamas and stood, naked, in front of the mirror. Under orders I struck a number of poses, not sexy ones but poses designed so the thing inside could inspect every inch of me more closely.
‘Fit, healthy and of breeding age. This will do well. Now it is time for me to feed. You must copulate.’
‘I must what!’
‘You must copulate. You must perform the sex act. I feed on certain… essences… that are released when the host creature copulates. Find a suitable male and mate with him.’
‘Perhaps you need persuading.’
There was yet another stab of pain and I collapsed to my knees.
‘Please, please, it’s not that easy. I can’t just… I don’t know anyone… and anyway…. Please, look in my mind. I know you can do that.’
There was a pause, a long pause, and once again I had that odd sensation that my mind was being read, as if my thoughts and memories were being investigated. This time the ‘file cards’ that were being selected all related to my sex life, or what little there was of it
‘What curious mating rituals you creatures have,’ the voice exclaimed. ‘And you! You have only copulated with a male once and it appears that was unsatisfactory. It seems you prefer to copulate with other females! How is that supposed to create offspring?’
I’m in no way ashamed of being a lesbian, well, except in front of my mum, maybe, but this creature’s disdain had me blushing to my roots.
‘Yes, I prefer to copulate, as you put it, with other females. Does that matter? Can… can you only feed if I produce offspring? Maybe it would be better if you found another host, one who copulates regularly, and with men.’
‘Finding another host is not an option at the moment. Anyway, I feed off essences produced by the pleasure of copulation. The production of offspring is not important. From what I have found canlı casino from your memories it appears that your species can achieve pleasure without actually breeding, or indeed, partners. It appears the sex act is pleasurable in itself.’
‘Why do you keep going on about “my species”? Who are you or rather what are you and where are you from?’
‘That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I need to feed and I’m getting inpatient. If finding a mate is not possible at the moment you must perform the sex act on yourself.’
‘What here? Now?’
‘Is there a problem with that?’
I quickly thought about what the voice was saying. If it fed on ‘essences’ released when I performed ‘the sex act’ then it seemed as if it simply needed me to have an orgasm. Kneeling naked on my bedroom floor wasn’t the most conducive position but, given its power to hurt me if I disobeyed, I didn’t have much choice. I reached between my thighs and started rubbing myself.
‘This is poor fare, poor fare indeed.’
‘Maybe if you allowed me to get comfortable, to get back into bed, then it will be better.’
‘If you must.’
I picked myself up off the floor and got back into bed where, at least, it was warm and comfortable. I stretched out my legs and started again. Mind you, it’s hard to get yourself going when you know that someone, or should that be something, is looking over your metaphorical shoulder.
‘Where is the essence? This is very poor.’
‘Well, it bloody well would be. You try feeling sexy when every move you make is being watched and analysed.’
‘This may help.’
I felt something surge through my body and, suddenly, I was turned on, very turned on indeed.
A slideshow of images tumbled before me: Shane from The L Word, k. d. laing, that kiss from Desert Hearts, Kirsten from high school, Claire Balding, PC Andrews, Rachael Stirling from Tipping the Velvet, Naomi from college, Naoko Mori from Torchwood, Monserrat Lobard from Ashes to Ashes, all of my little crushes, each one as clear as day.
And then, as if rewinding, the images rolled back until the image of PC Andrews was clear in my mind. It had only met her for a few moments and I had hardly been at my best but she had certainly left a deep impression. I remembered lying there, talking to her as I was helped onto the stretcher. OK, so maybe I do have a thing about girls in uniform, there’s something about blue serge and those little hats they wear, but there was no doubt that she wore it well. She had looked so smart, so sexy. Ooh, she could arrest me any day and, having arrested me, I’d be under her control, I’d have to do what ever she said. From there I wondered what she would look like out of uniform and my fevered imagination supplied the answers. I would be down on my knees before her, worshipping, kissing, licking, tasting and then she’d take me to bed and…
The images fractured into a kaleidoscope of limbs, lips, kisses, caresses. It was as if I could actually feel her lips on my breasts, her hand, not mine between my thighs as she took me higher, higher, high…
“Oh my god!” I groaned as the climax hit me and, clamping my hands between my locked thighs, I squeezed every ounce of pleasure from the best solo orgasm I had ever had. It must have been something to do with the thing inside me because never before had it been like this, never before had my imagination been so clear, never before had I come so hard, so intensely, without any partner or other stimulation. Wave after wave after wave washed through me until, at last I could take no more and I collapsed, exhausted.
Gradually I got my breath back; gradually I returned back to earth.
The inside of my head was curiously quiet. As I basked in the post orgasmic glow I could neither hear nor feel any effects from whatever it was that seemed to have infected me. Had it gone? Had one orgasm, however powerful been enough? I very much doubted it. I had to assume it was here to stay so, as I lay there, I thought about what, if anything, I should do about it. The answer was ‘not much’. After all, if I tried telling people about these voices in my head that could force me to do things against my will then I was on a one way ticket to the funny farm.
I got out of bed and found my laptop. Googling ‘alien parasite’ returned an unsurprising mix of bad science fiction and the occasional nutter. If anyone else had been infected as I was then they certainly weren’t telling. Mind you, I wasn’t keen to post my condition on the web either. Who knows what sort of person that might attract. For the moment, at least, I was on my own.
And, for the moment, I had very little to work on.
I woke the next morning and still my head felt clear. Even so, as I went through my morning ablutions, I kept having that feeling that I was being watched. However, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it and my only real option was to behave as if everything was normal. I got dressed, ate my breakfast and headed off for the office.
By mid afternoon, when everything kaçak casino was still quiet, I had all but persuaded myself that the previous night had been some sort of crazy dream. Maybe I could relax, maybe I could just put all this craziness behind me.
This silence continued all the way until seven o’clock when, having stayed late to make up for the time I’d lost the day before, I was the last one left in the office. The door opened and I saw Yvonne, the office cleaner, doing her rounds, pushing her vacuum cleaner before her. This wasn’t the first time I had worked late and bit by bit I had got to know Yvonne quite well. She’s ever so nice; a Filipina single mum taking all the jobs she can get in an effort to get by and provide for her toddler. What’s more even the drab olive green dress the cleaning firm provides as a uniform couldn’t disguise the fact that she’s got an arse to die for. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t give her the once over as she bent down to empty the bins.
‘That one! You will copulate with that female.’ Oh, no! The voice was back.
‘You have to be joking!’
‘I do not joke. It is time for me to feed and it is quite obvious that this female makes your essences flow. You must copulate with her as soon as possible.’
‘Just because she’s got the cutest little butt does not mean I would ever dream of doing anything so inappropriate. Anyway, she’s straight.’
‘How do you mean, straight.’
‘I thought you could read my mind. I mean she only copulates with boys, not girls. What’s more, she’s got a boyfriend. See that ring on her finger. She’s just got engaged. She’s off limits any way you look at it.’
‘You’re petty mating rules are none of my concern. As for any reluctance on her part, you must find some way to touch her.’
‘No way, José.’
‘I thought I had made it clear that disobedience will not be tolerated.’
The stab of pain to my gut was sharp and mercifully short. Even so I couldn’t help but give a grunt of pain.
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine, Yvonne, just a touch of indigest…. ooof!” I doubled up as another stab of pain hit me.
“You don’t look OK.” Yvonne, ever the sweetie, came over to my desk.
‘Touch her! Touch her!’ the voice inside me screamed and, as yet another stab of pain shot through me, I involuntarily put out my hand as if to fend it off. Yvonne, mistaking my intention, took hold of it. Immediately the pain inside me was replaced by a tingly ribbon of pleasure that ran from my groin, up through my body, along my arm and into Yvonne. For a moment or two we stared at each other and, at that moment, a wave of pure lust surged through me and I needed her more than I have ever needed anyone else, ever. I fought back the urge to grab her, throw her to the floor and…
Mercifully, before I could do anything, she snatched her hand away and ran for the door.
‘Go and find her.’
‘Please, please don’t hurt her.’
‘I won’t hurt her but, if you don’t go and find her, you know that I’ll hurt you. Do it!’
I knew this was no idle threat and, anyway, I had this deep physical need of my own that would only be satisfied by touching her again. I took a guess and went down to the cleaner’s room, the one where they store all the equipment. Tentatively I knocked on the door.
“Yvonne, it’s me, Jane.”
“Go away. What have you done to me? It’s wrong what you make me feel.”
“I can’t go away. Please, Yvonne, open the door. We need to talk.”
There was a moment’s pause and then the door was opened just a crack. Yvonne stared out; her deep dark eyes wild and fearful. Seeing no one else around she opened the door a little wider and pulled me in.
“What have you done to me?” She said trying to keep as far from me as the cramped cupboard would allow. “Why do you make me feel like this?”
“I don’t know, Yvonne, really, I don’t.”
“You make me feel… I’ve never… I need… I need… Oh, god forgive me!”
Whatever had been holding her back just snapped. She pushed herself away from the wall and leapt on me, slinging her arm around my neck and pulling me into an embrace. While we exchanged saliva she used her free hand to tug at the buttons down the front of her uniform until it hung open. I was no less restrained, reaching inside her now open dress and slipping my hand inside the elasticated waistband of her panties. That was exactly what she wanted and she grabbed my wrist, forcing my hand further into her crotch. To my complete lack of surprise she was wet and willing and, when I cupped my hand, there was no resistance as my fingers slid deep inside her.
But neither of us wanted to stop there. Whatever the parasite inside me had done to us it wasn’t interested in her pleasure; mine was all that mattered. Feverishly we worked together scrabbling at the waistband of my trousers. The button didn’t seem to want to work so, in my urgency, I just tugged until it, and the zipper below, and the seam below that, gave way, ripping half way down my thigh, and we were able to push them, along with my panties, to below my knees. I opened my legs as far as my trousers would allow, Yvonne’s hand reached between them and grabbed me the way I was grabbing her. Locked together and with no finesse or subtlety we frigged each other madly.
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