Xenofestation 2-02: The Fence

By Paragonas Vaunt

As a dealer in rare artefacts, Arlo Frenk is used to backroom deals done on the quiet. But events threaten to take an outrageous turn over the sale of his latest secretive and risky item.

Meanwhile, compulsive gambler Tali Slater arrives on the deep-space facility to begin her latest high-stakes adventure - mating with alien creatures. And religious campaigner Patience Mance reveals a secret of her own...

Twelve women. Sixty aliens. One purpose. Xenofestation 2-02 - The Fence is the eighth exciting episode of a series of darkly erotic sci-fi adventures of oviposition and alien implantation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paragonas Vaunt
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215003305

Paragonas Vaunt

Transgressive fiction with a dark & detailed undercurrent.The hottest stories. The twistiest tales.Whether you like your stories long and langorous, brief and breathless, or dark and dirty, come with me on a journey into the crooked world of filth maven Paragonas Vaunt.

Book preview

Xenofestation 2-02

~The Fence~

Paragonas Vaunt

Copyright © 2023 Paragonas Vaunt

All rights reserved

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Reader Advisory

This is a work of erotic science fiction, and a very rude one at that. Intended exclusively for an adult audience, it graphically depicts scenes of a highly sexual nature and situations of peril/horror.

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Cuntent Check

Cunt Quotient: 23

Fuck Factor: 62

Cock Contingent: 14

Cover imagery by Celia McKinley

No part of this book or its accompanying artwork was created with the assistance of Artificial Intelligence (AI) tools or processes.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Table of Contents

Entry 2-02/A – Loophole

Entry 2-02/B – The Fence

Entry 2-02/C – Artificial Spin

Entry 2-02/D – Let Down

Entry 2-02/E – Flutter

Entry 2-02/F – Essential Subsistence

Entry 2-02/G – Out of Sight, Out of Minge

Entry 2-02/H – Disapproval

Entry 2-02/I – Beastly Penetrator

Entry 2-02/J – In The Bag

Coming Next…

Note From The Author…

Hatching Now…

Connect With Paragonas Vaunt…

Entry 2-02/A – Loophole

Chemin des Jambons, Moore City, Luna

Arlo Frenk was a bustler.

He wouldn’t use that term himself, of course, and the discreet plaque above the old-fashioned bell-push claimed otherwise too, but his fathers had all been bustlers, along with three of his mothers, and so too was the last, latest and – dare he say it? – greatest to bear the name Frenk. It was a family tradition.

Tradition bore heavily on the Frenk dynasty.

And Arlo Frenk would be the first to admit the importance of tradition, of having a firm grounding in the past. It was the reason why he had the discreet plaque, after all, above the old-fashioned bell-push. It was why he kept a showroom behind the door upon which that bell-push sat, when most other bustlers operated in the virtual marketplace alone.

Tradition and innovation, that was the thing.

Arlo liked to think he knew when to employ tradition, and when to innovate. So while his rivals might consider it quaint to have a showroom, for example, Arlo knew that when it came to the type of goods he bustled it was prudent to keep their details off-grid. Discretion was something his clients very much valued, after all, especially when it came to certain of his more exotic and perhaps questionable pieces. And yet at the same time Arlo carefully employed innovative technologies to present his wares to the most advantageous effect.

Practicality and presence, that was the thing.

Arlo prided himself on knowing how to blend the two. So while the wall behind his display counter was dominated by the floor-to-ceiling array of hundreds of little wooden drawers, like some giant apothecary’s workshop, only Arlo knew that the drawers were merely an excellent (and much cheaper) facsimile of wood. Similarly, only he knew that the drawers all had little motorised catches, so he had only to call up an item in his stock database for the relevant little drawer to spring open by a few tiny millimetres, just enough that from his side of the counter he could see it standing proud of its neighbours. As far as the client could see from their side of the counter, Arlo had perfect command of exactly where in the array of unlabelled drawers a particular item could be found and could reach for it in an instant.

It was the mark of a consummate showman, Arlo felt, a born bustler.

Though he didn’t call himself a bustler. The quality and discernment of his clientele demanded subtlety, and a certain distinctive cachet.

Showmanship and cachet, that was the thing.

And a different name.

Plus the use of innovation where it could add value.

And increase his profits, of course.

And, like any good bustler, a sharp eye and sleight-of-hand, whatever was needed to separate a client from their credits.

Though of course, in a sharp break with tradition, he didn’t call himself a bustler.

No, Arlo Frenk was a Space Agent.

The discreet little plaque above the old-fashioned bell-push, on the door of his little workshop on the Chemins des Jambons, proclaimed that fact to the world. Proclaimed it discreetly, of course:

A. FRENK

SPACE AGENT

~THINGS FOUND~

Arlo was rather proud of that particular innovation.

There was just something so indefinably romantic about being an agent.

Raffish. Rakish. A little roguish, even.

In a bygone era, a man could be a real estate agent, selling actual land, real land, country estates no less, with trees and lakes and horses on them. Could sell them man-to-man, the idea of a single man actually being able to own an actual piece of land – with trees and lakes and horses on it – so ludicrously extravagant as to be almost surreal nowadays.

If you were an estate agent, back on old Terra, you had to know how to hustle. Because there were always other estate agents roaming the land, pitching their own little sign boards on your turf,