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except for one jaw-dropping difference. Each sported multiple penises, quivering in the air like eager hands reaching out to caress her. She counted twenty men, some with three dicks, others with six or nine. Margo was swimming in a sea of black snakes, except they were all throbbing cocks. She grabbed one and started sucking, deep-throat-style. Another penis filled her pussy, others probed her anus. Multiple cocks embraced her from all angles dripping sweet creamy jizz. Margo entered a heaven the Baptist church would never sanction. She loved being the nasty queen bee of an African alien hive. It was every unholy fantasy she ever dreamed amplified ten times. Margo thought she might literally float away on silky warm alien waves, when Big Daddy Rose stepped in. He took Margo by the hand and guided her away from the group.
    “Only me with my lady now,” he said.
    Margo beamed at Big Daddy Rose. He lifted Margo up, all two hundred pounds of her, like she was a feather, and hoisted her over his shoulder. Then he carried her away into privacy. There was a glowing purple mattress on the floor. He threw her on it.
    “Having fun?” he asked.  
    Margo squealed, “This is the sexiest day of my life.”
    “Of course,” Big Daddy hummed.
    Big Daddy Rose had a single massive penis. But it grew longer until it tenderly wrapped around her shoulders. Strange cosmic currents pulsed through that cock as it gently hugged her.
    “Do you feel loved?” Big Daddy Rose asked.
    “I feel wonderful,” Margo gasped. “I can’t ask Scott for anything kinky. We only do the missionary position. What was I thinking when I married a pastor?”
    “You’re growing up, baby doll,” Big Daddy Rose told her. “Most humans fear their fantasies, but if you don’t explore, you’ll never learn what you truly are.”
    Margo felt unadulterated bliss. She looked into Big Daddy’s eyes, but when she did, all she saw was a spinning vortex of white light.  
    Margo blinked. She was back in Santa Maria, sitting in the front pew of the Grace Baptist Church. Her hands were clasped in prayer.  
    “Margo, honey?” Margo’s husband, Pastor Scott Baker, studied her with concern.  
    “I’m having a moment,” Margo groaned.
    “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
    “Why?” Margo asked, confused by the fear in her husband’s voice.
    “You’re covered in welts. You must be having an allergy attack.”
    Margo touched a hand to her skin. It was still tingling and alive with sensation. Branded by aliens. She was one of the gang now. She never felt prouder.  

9

    Grace Baptist Church looked splendid on the morning of the wedding. Erin Tanaka’s father, George, gladly paid for the best Santa Maria had to offer. The room was filled with the most beautiful floral arrangements bound in golden ribbons, while the air vibrated with the sweet sounds of a classical string quartet playing “Con Te Partiro” as the final guests arrived and sat.
    “Spared no expense,” George said beaming with pride. “I only have one daughter.”  
    This perfect wedding was a long time coming. In 1905, the Tanaka clan came to California as dirt-poor tenant farmers. The family suffered the awful indignity of wartime internment camps, but after World War Two returned to farming. Now thousands of acres produced premium lettuce under the Tanaka Blue Star brand. Their lettuce was served in the best restaurants and even at White House dinners in Washington, DC.
    In the anteroom of the church, Erin Tanaka took a deep breath as her bridesmaid, Suzy, adjusted the Chantilly lace wedding veil. The veil was special order from Nordstrom and very pricey, but Erin loved the way it looked.
    “Goddamn perfect,” Suzy said. “It frames your face.”
    Lisa Anderson appeared in the doorway. “Everybody’s here. Let’s do it. Ready to walk down the aisle?”
    “I hope nobody can see I’m sweating,” Erin said.

    •••

    Sheriff Olsen’s patrol car was parked at the curb on the