Xenofestation 1-01: Amber Alert

By Paragonas Vaunt

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is now also available as part of the omnibus collection Xenofestation Sequence 1 - Principia Germinis

In a darker future, women take many of the most challenging jobs, and none is more demanding than the experimental Xenoplantation Programme, whose participants are expected to mate with a bewildering variety of alien creatures.

For Amber Codrington, joining the Programme at its secret deep-space facility is a chance to leave an overcrowded Earth and escape a society that controls reproductive rights with a draconian grip, obliging all but the richest and most fortunate to seal their wombs for life. For jaded celebrity Ornella Mito, it’s simply a chance to relieve the boredom.

Rewards abound for any participant willing to allow herself to ripen with alien young, a heady cocktail of untold riches and indescribable pleasures, for those brave enough to reach for them. However, pleasure comes at a price, and rewards come with risks, when something slimy may at any moment come knocking at the door.

But the risks are not all alien in origin. For where there is money to be made there is also crime, and the shadowy Syndicate is never far behind. And once they get their hooks in, they are harder to escape than the clutches of any alien.

The Xenoplantation Programme is always hungry for new flesh. Because the human body is the perfect cradle for bearing life. But not just human life...

Twelve women. Sixty aliens. One purpose. Xenofestation 1-01 - Amber Alert is the first episode of a series of darkly erotic sci-fi adventures of oviposition and alien implantation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paragonas Vaunt
• Release date: Feb 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005462994

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 1-01

~Amber Alert~

Paragonas Vaunt

V2.0 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: 6

Fuck Factor: 24

Cock Contingent: 7

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

Prologue – Red Warning

Entry 1-01/A – Amber Alert

Entry 1-01/B – Blue Movie

Entry 1-01/C – Purple Prose

Entry 1-01/D – White Noise

Entry 1-01/E – Yellow Signal

Entry 1-01/F – Black Day

Entry 1-01/G – Silver Pieces

Entry 1-01/H – Green Light

Coming Next…

Note From The Author…

Hatching Now…

Connect With Paragonas Vaunt…

Prologue – Red Warning

Incident +14 minutes

Fourteen minutes.

It had been fourteen minutes since the siren had tumbled her from her sleep couch, the whoop-shriek of the biocontainment alarm followed by the sub-bass thump of the compartment shutters slamming. They’d happened so close together that the two sounds seemed part of the same movement rather than one following as a consequence of the other.

The shutters would open again when the alarm ended.

If it ended.

She’d spent those fourteen minutes running through the checklist. Deadlocking the door to her cabin, checking the air had switched to local supply. Checking the contamination lights, thankfully all green.

Then she’d used her handpad to report in to the security hub. She’d told them where she was, that she had sealed her cabin and it was green, no contamination. The calm voice of the operator – voice only, they gave her no image, which was unusual – reassured her she had done the right thing, and she was quite safe.

It was all under control.

She’d sagged in relief.

Then they’d said something else.

Are you dressed? the operator asked. Don’t get dressed, just in case.

Then they were gone, leaving her listening to dead air.

And the siren.

That was the first time she truly realised it might be serious. It wasn’t all under control after all.

Don’t get dressed, the security officer had said. That must be in case she had to use her refuge capsule, since its medprobes would need bare skin to work on. Her sleep suit – sleeveless nightshirt and shorts – should be fine, she decided, so she moved on to worrying about why she might need the refuge capsule at all.

Of course, she’d already realised it wasn’t a routine alarm, firstly because it had been triggered in the residential section of the station, where the participants relaxed and slept when they weren’t actively taking part in the Programme, and secondly it had gone on for fourteen – no, fifteen – minutes now.

Containment alarms were an unwelcome reminder that here, in this fragile bubble of air suspended in the harsh vacuum of space twenty million miles from anywhere, the idea of complete safety was a brittle illusion. An unnecessary reminder too, given the fact that the frailty of human existence was never far from the mind of any participant in the Programme.

During her time on-station, she’d known the occasional containment alarm in the implantation chambers, or the labs, or the pens. Sometimes one of the subjects would get loose, or one of the biosensors would give a false reading. They were notoriously hair-trigger, the biosensors. But there were so many shutters and valves and seals between the subjects and genuine escape that the alarms never ran on for more than four, maybe five minutes tops.

And never in the section where the women ate, and chatted, and slept, not in the calm sanctuary where they shed the trappings and stresses of what took place in the implantation chambers. Where they considered themselves safe.

As safe as they could be, at least.

She knew the alarm had been sounding for fifteen minutes because there was a tell-tale display over the locked door of her cabin, counting the minutes and the seconds. She also knew that if the counter reached thirty minutes without the alarm being cancelled the breach would be categorised as a total loss, irretrievable. And, if that happened, explosive bolts would automatically fire, hydraulic rams would release their pent-up energy, and the entire contaminated section would be ejected from the station. A hundred thousand tonnes of duralloy. Jettisoned, along with anybody unfortunate enough still to be in it at the time, on a trajectory that would end around