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after-witch · 9 months ago

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Damn Your Eyes Chapter 2 [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Title: Cream and Sugar [Damn Your Eyes Chapter 2] [Yandere Ren Hana x Reader]

Synopsis: A fateful meeting at a bookstore between you and Ren Hana, years upon years after your escape from Strade, turns into a coffee shop date. You're not supposed to accept drinks from strangers, but Ren's not a stranger--so it's fine, right?

Word count: 5,322

notes: yandere, descriptions of violence/death/wounds, drugging

AO3 LINK

How did one get over something like Strade? Get over that house and that basement? How do you move on with your life when you’ve seen someone’s guts spill out of their body while they’re still alive, and you’ve been instructed to pick them up and play with them for the delight of sick fucks watching it all on a paid stream?

The pretty answer, the one everyone recites when asked, because that’s what you do: with therapy and time and forgiveness for yourself. You take it one day at a time. You treat yourself.

The real answer: You didn’t. You don’t. You can’t.

Not fully. Because “getting over” something like that means it will eventually no longer affect you, no longer being a part of you.

And sure. You will, eventually, go about something that feels like an ordinary life.

You will walk into a grocery store with a tidy little list, you will roll your eyes at the rising cost of laundry detergent, you will smile at a cashier who says they like your outfit. You will date and drink coffee and sway to your favorite song while making dinner.

But inside, inside of you , you are still there--still hovering at the last step of the basement stairs, listening to someone’s guttural shrieks as their skin is blow-torch melted down. Still clinging to Ren in the middle of the night, flinching when his hands wander over a recent gouge, a hastily stitched cut--an accident, he whispers, and you’re never sure if you believe him.

And that is what happened to you.

It took years, of course, to even get close to that semblance of normalcy. A few years were spent in feverish hiding, running from place to place with no paper trails that might lead some gorehound that subscribed to Strade’s torture porn sniffing at your door, hungry for more.

But you settled down, in time. Slowly. Bit by bit, piece by piece, inch by inch.

That took years, too--the settling.

It started with staying in an apartment for more than three months at a time. It started with going to the grocery store wearing only sunglasses, instead of sunglasses, a wig, and the most nondescript clothing you could fish out of a bargain bin. It started with applying for real jobs, not just seedy work that paid cash, quick.

It ended here, in this quaint little home that you shared with your husband for the past five years, though you’d lived together for longer. It ended here, with a modest marketing career that you’d built up after going back to college. It ended here, with a life you built for yourself; frail and a bit unorthodox, but a life nonetheless.

You wouldn’t have been able to survive, if you hadn’t adapted. There is only so much terror the human man can manage before breaking entirely, and so--adaptation.

It was a gift that your husband didn’t mind your… differences. The heavy insistence on home security, the desire for privacy, the slow way you gave trust to strangers--if you gave it at all.

Some things did bother him. He grumbled about your lack of social media presence, and you’d once had an awful fight when his sister put a photo of you on Facebook that you’d demanded, in furious tears, be taken down.

But, deep down, it wasn’t like you could blame your husband for bucking against your near tantrum-like reaction. For the way he sometimes sighed as you locked the front door with triple locks, and an electric sensor. For the way his jaw sometimes set, when you did something that wasn’t normal to anyone who hadn’t been the extended torture victim of a serial killer that doubled as a snuff porn producer.

Because you knew--deeper down--that you were still haunted by the ghosts in that basement. Strade and the torture victims and Ren and yourself, shaking like a leaf, bleeding onto concrete. You knew, even if the man you slept beside in a bed every night had no inkling of it, that you could never step back across that threshold and be the way you were before.

But.

And there’s always a but, isn’t there?

But… that was okay. It was okay that you could never go back; it was okay that you were someone new; it was okay that you weren’t okay, and you’d never be okay in the fullest sense of the word.

Your life was a life you created out of shaking fingers, something clawed out with dirty fingernails. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours.

What more could you ask for, after Strade?

What more could you ask for, after anything ?

Books are a vice. More than smoking, more than sex. You could give up sex, you could swear you’ll never buy another pack of smokes, but you could never give up books.

Okay, okay. You’re being over dramatic and theatrical. But how can you think of books as anything other than a sinful pleasure when you’re surrounded by these shelves and stacks, imagining that one day you can afford an extension on your home and dedicate an entire room (or two--why not, in a daydream?) solely to books?

You’re not even supposed to be here today. It was your day off, and your calendar was packed to the brim with mundane errands. Today’s schedule certainly didn’t leave room for indulgently browsing at a bookstore, but sometimes you just have to live a little, don’t you?

Although if you come home with yet another bag of books, your husband is bound to shove his face into the nearest couch cushion and scream. But c’mon. It wasn’t your fault that you’d long since run out of shelf space and were prone to stuffing the books into boxes that cluttered the closests.

Your fingers wander over the spines of the books crammed onto the shelves, catching the uneven mismatched spaces between with every dip. The spines are often worn and weathered, some of them even peeling a little.

This was why you preferred secondhand bookstores. No neat lines of fresh new books set up to catch the eye and make a sale here. No, instead there were countless books shoved together with no care for size or color or sometimes (depending on who was stocking that day) even genre.

For instance, today you find a battered paperback copy of Carrie by Stephen King right next to a suspiciously pristine How to Keep Your House from Drowning that probably still has an uncracked spine. That poor soul, with a messy house. Maybe they should have read the book.

You’re about to keep moving when, on second thought: Your partner might get a kick out of finding that book on his nightstand. Or he’ll chuck it at your head (lovingly) for bringing it into the house. It’s a 50/50 gamble that you’re willing to take.

And so you go to pull it out, a private little grin on your face, just as another hand reaches across for Carrie.

Fingers and elbows bump together and you feel that slight flush of awkward embarrassment rush to your cheeks as you sputter out, “Sorry!” Your voice even goes up an octave, an annoying habit that you’ve been trying to train out of yourself.

The stranger pulls away and mutters their own low apology. They sound just as awkward as you, which makes you feel a little better, at least, so you turn to look at them and offer an embarrassed smile and you think, briefly, maybe you’ll grab Carrie for them or cheekily ask if they were going for the cleaning book--

But when you turn to look at them, all thoughts and cheek are snuffed out.

Not because the man in front of you is wearing a nicely tailored business suit and matching fedora hat; a dark gray complimented by a muted burgundy tie. Like he’s off to a meeting or comes from a big city where such outfits are often found in shops and cafes during lunch hours.

Not because the man in front of you is attractive, with red hair with a bit of ever so slightly silver sticking out from underneath his hat; his cologne, soft but spicy, tickles your nose.

But because the man in front of you is Ren.

Older, yes. His hair and face peppered with signs of time, just like yours. There are scars on his face that you remember--some etched onto his flesh right in front of you, and some from that gray area of before, when Strade had yet to take you--and some you don’t.

Your body is lead, your throat is closed up. Speech and movement are now foreign, unknowable things, because Ren is standing right in front of you.

It takes you a moment to shake it off; no, two moments. No, three.

And then you can finally speak, although the word comes out hoarse and whispered, like every ounce of spit in your mouth vanished the instant you saw him. Perhaps it did.

“ Ren ?”

He blinks. His eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowing. For a terrible moment, you find yourself thrown back down the basement steps, when knowing the difference between Strade’s brows furrowing in annoyance or amusement could mean the difference between the degree of your upcoming burns.

And then his expression opens, widens, just enough for you to recognize that he knows who you are now and you’re here, in a bookshop, decades on; not there, not in the basement, where you left Strade’s corpse to rot.

Ren--for he is Ren, and you know it--lifts his hat, his lips turning up in a smile that makes your heart twist painfully, and shows just the bottom edges of his ears in greeting.

He says your name and your ears ring, high and tinny. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a cashier standing at the till rearranging trinkets while clearly spying on whatever bit of vaguely interesting gossip this might turn into during their lunch break.

You had, in truth, imagined this moment before. Countless times. Usually at night, though you weren’t terribly picky; a long trip on a bus, head pressed against the window glass, was also a great time for such thoughts.

You’d imagined finding Ren some day, in many different ways.

In some fantasies, you look him up in the phonebook (a stupid idea fit only for a fantasy, because Ren would never put himself out there like that, just as you hadn’t) and give him a call and meet up at a park and you apologize until your lungs stop working. In another, you run into him somewhere else, a store or park; a coincidence just like this one. In still others, he finds you, offering to meet in a public space because he knows you’d be scared and he wants you to be comfortable and Ren would definitely think of things like that, considering your shared experiences.

In your daydreams, you had a speech prepared. It was always moving, of course. It culminated in a soft, unbearably sweet hug where the two of you squeezed out the pain from the preceding decades and parted in mutual understanding. Maybe with each other’s phone numbers on slips of paper.

But those were daydreams. This is real life.

In real life, your throat feels closed up; your eyes burn with hot tears that want to spill out, and everything from your chest to your cheeks feels hot and swollen. In real life, it is not the daydreams but your nightmares that worm their way into your brain: those nightmares you have (yes, have, still--even this far down the line) where he hates you, where he tells you that you left him there like he’s nothing, where he throws back all your whispered conversations in the dark back in your face.

In real life, you can only stammer out, expecting the nightmarish worst: “Ren. I’m s…sorry. I’m sorry . I shouldn’t--I shouldn’t have --”

Ren raises his hand; his brows furrow again. He says your name, once, twice. Softer. Gentler.

“It’s okay,” he says, low. You don’t know if he means that it’s okay that you left him (it isn’t, is it?) or that it’s going to be okay or that he’s okay or--

Ren must sense your upcoming lack of steady breathing, because he places one steady hand on your shoulder. The way he used to do, when you started thinking about the fact that you were going to die in that house, and it would be an awful death, and the thought of it made you want to tear into your own skin.

It brings you back down to the ground, which only makes you want to cry for a different reason.

Ren’s face has a touch of sticky pity on it when he smiles at you.

“Why don’t we go somewhere we can sit down and talk?”

You are sitting in a coffee shop across the way from a fox man who used to be tortured with you in the basement of a serial killer's home that doubled as a snuff film studio. There are people around you, but they might as well be invisible, be nothing at all.

Because every nerve in your body is focused squarely on Ren, sitting in front of you with a muted awkward expression as the pair of you wait silently for the barista to call up your order.

Neither of you have spoken since you sat down.

Sweat is beginning to stick to your neck, but you don’t want to move without warning--don’t want to startle Ren. If you do, maybe he’ll run off, and… no. He wouldn’t run off now. You can tell. He’s not like he used to be, and neither are you.

There are decades between you, and yet--and yet that thread is still there, isn’t it? You could never fully cut it. Maybe it pulled, instead. Pulled and pulled and eventually lost all of its slack on this unassuming afternoon, when the two of you met again in a bookstore. Reaching for books with cracked and weathered spines, lines creasing over the paper like scars on the skin.

Your scars. His scars.

How many times have you traced over the marks on your skin? How many times has he? Maybe he didn’t do it anymore. Maybe he was in a much better space than you, and that’s why he looks so awkward and you feel like your heart is about to pound right out of its chest. Because he’s moved on and you, stupid thing, just woke up in the basement in the middle of a sunny afternoon.

His shoulders straighten; you imagine, under his hat, that his ears have perked. For a moment,, a familiar sensation washes through you. Danger. He’s coming down the stairs and it’s going to hurt.

But Strade is dead. And you are alive, and Ren is alive, and his attention only raised because the barista set both of your coffees down on the counter. Nothing more than that.

Slowly, the world seems like it regains its normal gravity. The sweat clinging to your neck feels silly and not ominous. You can breathe, and the world of the coffee shop seems to settle around you like it would have on any other day.

“I’ll get them,” Ren says, quietly, eyeing you with wariness–like he’s the one worried about you bolting. Fuck. He’s probably right to think that; a moment ago, you might have been the one to run.

Ren pauses after he stands up, and there’s something soft and sad in his eyes when he looks at you. Part of you thinks he’s about to say that he’s going to leave, that this was a mistake. But instead, his lips curl and the softest of smiles, and he asks:

“You still like cream and sugar?”

Oh.

“Yes,” you say, automatically. But you don’t. Not anymore. Tastebuds change and you drink it black with no cream, when you do bother to drink it. It’s not worth correcting, and you don’t. You just watch as he grabs both cups and heads over to the counter on the far side of the coffee shop, where there’s oodles of sugars (and sugar substitutes); creamers; and little tins of milk to add to your drink.

Then your phone vibrates, and the “fuck!” that comes out of your mouth is involuntary. It was about the time that you should have been heading home, bookstore stop notwithstanding. What were you going to say to him? That you’d run into someone from your past that used to get tortured with you? That you remember what Ren looks like when his flesh is sliced into and pulled apart?

You heading home? Took ground beef out for dinner. Tacos?

Your thumb hovers over the phone screen. You’re going to lie. You already know that. Even if you were ready to tell him about your past, it would not be like this. Even you, not particularly attuned to mobile etiquette, knew it was better to confess something like this in person. Although the temptation to confess it all and add silly emojis to punctuate the gritty details was very strong.

Ran into an old friend , you type, finally. They want to hang out a bit. Tacos are fine, don’t wait up! Xoxoxo.

It feels so normal. And that’s okay, isn’t it? That you’re being normal right now. It’s a sign that you’ve come so far, if anything. And you’ll take any of those signs that you can manage to get, so when the text comes in–

Can’t wait to hear about it!

I don’t guarantee there will be tacos left.

Kidding.

… Maybe.

–you let that normalcy wash over you, and it helps you settle as Ren returns, coffee mugs in hand.

His expression is lighter, too. He probably notices the weight off your shoulders, the way you’re trying to look interested and perhaps even excited to see him, rather than looking like you’re about to throw up on a half-empty stomach.

He slides your mug across the table and you can tell at a glance that it’s going to be sweet. A hesitant sip, your tongue curling back from the warmth and inevitable sugar, confirms it. Milky and creamy, just like you used to take it.

“Do you live around here?” Ren asks, taking a sip from his own mug.

Such an average question. It’s almost enough to make you snort. Really, you should be asking him when he got out of that basement and whether or not he ever thought about cutting you open and if he still had dreams, like you did.

Instead, he’s asking something you might ask an old high school friend that you haven’t seen in twenty years.

Fuck. What a world you live in.

Maybe he senses your thoughts. Maybe the two of you really are in tune from what you went through together. Because he cracks a smile, the edge of a sharp tooth showing. And then the smile spreads and turns into a little chuckle. It’s not the giggling snort he would sometimes fall into at the house. It’s something older and more reserved, but that shouldn’t surprise you. You’re the same way.

You take another sip of the coffee. It really is too sweet. That’s how you took it at the house, though. It was better to drown your sorrows in creamer and packets of sugar–pilfered from diners that Strade went to, sometimes to scope for victims–than mope about them all the time.

“I really am curious,” he says, voice light. “If you’re okay with telling me.” Something different in his tone. Offense, maybe? God, it’s strange, being on the lookout for what someone’s tone really means again.

But it’s just Ren. You shouldn’t be so worried about it.

“It’s fine,” you say, just as light. “Yeah, maybe about half an hour away? I have a little house…”

Ren’s eyebrows raise. Not in surprise, exactly. But in interest. It relieves you, just a little, that he didn’t let out some sarcastic remark about having your own place away from him.

“Do you have a garden?” He asks. “You always did talk about getting one.”

A twinge in your heart. Bittersweet and old. Sometimes at night, when the two of you were allowed to curl up together, you would talk about a fantasy world. A world where you never came here; where you’d be and what you’d do. Sometimes, you’d be in a pretty little cottage with a pretty little garden in a pretty little town.

Well. Your garden is pretty, even if your house isn’t an adorable cottage and you live at the edge of sprawling suburbs where you have to drive 20 minutes to get to anything useful. Close enough?

You tell him about it. The house and the garden. You even tell him about your partner, and maybe his smile does quirk down a little, then. But you could be imagining it.

“Do you have kids?” Ren asks, next. If he were anyone else, it would be a mundane question--the kind you ask every couple who's been together a while. In Ren, it feels different. Serious. Sincere. He tilts his head a little, taking another sip of his coffee, which prompts you to do the same.

Kids. Hah. It wasn’t like the thought had never crossed your mind. But it didn’t happen. For a lot of reasons, it didn’t happen. Mind and body and the basement worked against you, and maybe there was a part of you that was afraid to bring anything into the world, because you knew it could be taken away. Taken to someone’s basement and hurt and hurt and hurt –

Ren says your name.

Ren’s hand is on yours.

You glance down at his hand–see a familiar scar, see that your hand underneath his is curled up and tense–and then look up at his face.

Oh, the passing of time.

“Me neither,” he says, softly. Like he knows why you didn’t and couldn’t, and maybe he was the same way.

It hurts too much to think about. So you clear your throat and slowly pull your hand away, letting it rest on the now cooling mug of coffee. You take another swig, despite it not being to your taste anymore. Ren really did put in a lot of creamer.

“What about you?”

His head tilts, almost slow, almost curious.

“Me?”

He blinks.

You blink back.

“Do you live around here?”

A smile–an Ahhh sort of smile.

“No,” he says, simply. He shakes his head. “I travel a lot.” He nods his head. “For business.”

“Oh,” you say. “What sort of business?”

A flicker in his gaze. Something sharp and familiar. It’s gone too soon to matter.

“This and that,” is all he says.

And there’s a strange sort of realization in your head. A fuzziness that seems to spread right to your scalp. This is all too casual, too normal. It’s not at all what it was supposed to be, when you met. Asking about homes and gardens and kids and what you do for work; fuck, you two had been tortured together. Had watched people die. Had helped other people die.

This should have been about more than banal pleasantries. This should have been about reconnecting. About that thread between the two of you that couldn’t be cut, even now.

Maybe it’s that fuzziness in your scalp and maybe it’s the lurching of your heart, but you reach out your hand again towards Ren; your hand and your heart reaching and aching –

“Why did you run that day?” Soft and to the point. All the years have led to this question.

The question drops your hand straight to the table. The thud feels harder than it sounds. What ease your heart had mellowed to earlier melts away entirely, and you can feel adrenaline beginning to pump, your heart pounding and racing. Your ears hurt.

Why did you run? It’s the question you wanted him to ask, isn’t it? The question that would lead to your big sappy explanation and apology and the sentimental hug before you two parted ways, perhaps with phone numbers in your pockets?

But now that Ren is real again; now that he’s here, lines around his eyes and a touch of silver in his hair, you don’t know how to answer.

You ran because you were scared. Scared of people from Strade’s fucked up streams finding you in that house. Scared of Strade’s corpse rotting in the basement. Scared, too, of Ren. Of being chained to him, or by him, and you could never be sure which was more likely.

You ran because you weren’t strong enough to face whatever was left behind for you in that fucking house.

Thickness lodges in your throat but you swallow against it. This is not a daydream. This is real life. And you have to own up to what you did now.

“Ren, I–”

The words don’t come, because the world suddenly spins. The fuzziness prickling on your scalp, your ears ringing, your heart going too fast–this has all been too much for you, you should have known that. There are brief thoughts–heart attack, stroke, fuck, fuck, FUCK–and then Ren’s hand is gripping your upper arm so you don’t fall out of the chair.

“Are you okay?” Your vision is clear enough to see the concern in his face. His brows furrow together and he looks around, telling someone– ”Yes, I'm going to get her home” --and you’re about to tell him not to take you to the hospital because your insurance has a high deductible for the emergency room when another dizzy spell hits you, and you’d rather be in debt than dead.

“Should I call an ambulance?” He asks, voice low, calming. Your mind latches onto it. You’re not alone, it’s going to be okay. Someone is here to take care of you, and if you have to go to the emergency room, well, it couldn't have happened at a better time.

Ambulances cost too much money, though, and Ren

“Could you drive me?” Even as you talk, you know something’s wrong. The words come out too slow, a little slurry. Almost like you’re drunk.

Ren starts to shake his head and your dizzy self makes a pitiful sound.

You swear you can see Ren’s ears twitching underneath his hat. You don’t have the presence of mind to think about why–where and when he’s heard that pitiful whimper before–so you just cling to him as he gently pulls you out of your chair.

He grabs your purse and carefully leads you out of the shop. Someone holds the door open, and he tells them that you’re going to the emergency room, thank you for the concern. Your head swims and you might mumble thank you to them, too, but you’re not entirely sure. Are you dying? Is it a stroke? Will the last thing you texted the love of your life be about dinner? It’s funny in that awful, delirious sort of way.

“Ren?” You ask, helpless. You’re holding onto him as tightly as you can, but your fingers feel fuzzy. Your whole body feels fuzzy, actually. Heavy and strange. Drunk and leaden.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs. “Let’s get you into my car, all right?”

You don’t have the presence of mind to wonder why his car is already out on the curb, running, with a driver in the front seat. You aren’t coherent enough to think about things like that; but then, even before you drank the coffee cup laced with a sedative, you didn’t notice the black car following the pair of you down the road to the coffee shop.

You didn’t notice it follow you to the bookstore, either, nor did you give it a second glance when it pulled out of the lot after you stopped in at the grocery store to pick up a few miscellaneous items.

You really had lost your touch after all these years.

Ren grips you carefully while he opens the back door to the car. It’s roomy, expensive. Clean black leather seats that probably don’t show stains. Up front, a driver sits, wearing a hat and sunglasses and a uniform.

There’s a brief thought–Jesus, what does Ren do for a living to afford this?--before Ren is helping you crawl into the backseat.

The movement only makes you dizzier, and you’re telling the person in the front seat, whoever they are, that you need to get to the nearest hospital please.

They don’t even turn to look at you. It’s strange. But then Ren is there in the backseat with you, and you’re mumbling the same thing to him. Rattling off your symptoms–dizzy, fuzzy, confused, tingling hands. You try to remember the test for a stroke but can’t.

Ren smiles at you.

Why is he smiling? That thought comes through loud and clear, but it doesn’t stick for very long.

“Ren,” you say, slurring. “The hospital, the nearest one is… I think it’s… you have to…”

And those words, difficult as they are to get out, slowly drop away. Because while your mind is not capable of many things right now, it is capable of registering something unusual.

Ren.

He doesn’t look worried anymore. No more concern furrowing his brow, no more softness.

Instead, he looks pleased. There’s a smug smile on his face, and you’ve seen it before, but it’s older now. Wiser. Less impulsive and more assured.

A cat–a fox–that caught the canary. And you, what little remains of your logical mind tells you, are one dumb bird.

And he knows that you know. Because he jerks his chin at the driver in the front, who must press some kind of button; the doors lock. Loud. Hard. Your numb hands fumble for the door handle but no matter how much you try to shove the door open, it doesn’t budge.

You're locked in.

“Back to the hotel for now,” Ren says. Not to you. To the driver. Who–to your horror–begins to pull away from the curb.

“Oh, no–” You try to scream. It’s not quite loud enough. Not quite sharp enough. but maybe someone can see you, even through the tinted windows. Or they’ll hear you and tell someone, who will maybe tell someone else, who might call the cops. If you’re lucky.

Ren’s hand cups your mouth firmly.

“Don’t waste your energy, you’ll need it soon.” The hand moves from your lips to your cheek, resting there. The look in Ren’s eyes is blurry–whatever he drugged you with is making it hard to focus–but you recognize bits of it, because you felt the same damn thing.

The awful mixture of nostalgia, regret and ache.

Maybe if you explain everything. Tell him why you ran. Apologize like hell. You won’t be hugging after this, but you won't be drugged up (what did he give you?) in the back of his car, either.

“Ren– the hous e–I ran–I–let me explain, it–”

Ren’s hand trails back to your mouth. The sharp edges of his nails graze against your nose.

“Hush. We’ll talk about all that later.”

Later?

Oh, fuck –

There’s an awful, stabbing pain in your thigh–you look down and see Ren pulling away a syringe with a bright silver needle.

Ren–you try to say his name, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Your lips gape and close and words no longer form.

Your head is swimming now, all highs and lows, dipping and rising over waves that never seem to end. It’s like you're falling asleep in the worst way, hard and rocky.

Like you’re falling backwards down the basement stairs.

Ren’s voice is the last thing you hear before you black out.

“Sweet dreams.”

#the price of flesh #boyfriend to death #ren hana #ren hana x reader #tpof x reader #afterwitch writes #thank you voice to text you saved my marriage. i mean my fic. same thing.#i feel like I'm aiming for... 4 chapters? Maybe 5. Definitely 4 though.

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jpitha · 2 months ago

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Painfully Bright

The humans tend to go… a little overboard when designing things, this is known, and the rest of the Coalition understands. Years of interaction and experience has taught most of the Coalition that sometimes… you just let them get it out of their system.

This time, I wasn’t so sure though.

I swear to the voice of my ancestors I don’t know why they insist that we… witness their next wild development. It’s like they have a burning desire to show the Coalition what they built. It’s like their latest toy doesn’t exist until they show it off.

This time, we were all ferried into one of their smaller - though still gigantic by our standards - frigates and brought to - literally - the middle of interstellar space. By the fur of my children, I am not lying! When we Flipped, we came back into what I could only describe is an… arena, hundreds of kilometers across. They had built massive gantries and hung lights off of them, the shadows cast by the lights were talon sharp. I have no idea how they were able to build lights that bright. Honestly, I think that my administration would be more interested in those lights instead of… whatever is on the platform in the center. I’ll ask after the demonstration.

With unaided visio, the platform was a simple black speck. Helpfully, the screens in the observation room were connected to telescopes, and a high resolution image was projected next to the real-time view. Additionally, our pads were tied into the camera feed so that we could all change what scopes we were watching, if we wanted to see a detail that the main camera wasn’t showing. It was all very professional and set up to make sure we could all see and observe.

More Coalition members filed in after me, having spent more time at the refreshment tables than I. The humans did their best, and some members found their cuisine quite intriguing, but I for one could not stand it. Too loud, too flavorful, too… much like them. I had a water bulb, and got a good seat while everyone else stuffed their inputs. As they came in and found seats, I had noticed that some humans, and even a few other Coalition members walked quietly in behind the guests and took up positions around the room. They were all wearing a sharply tailored uniform, black, with a white undershirt peeking out behind an open lapel. The humans had a name for this outfit, I remember them saying it. Ugh, I can’t remember.

A few more minutes were spent waiting, and then a human walked to the front of the room and addressed the gathering; “Friends, Sapients, thank you for attending our demonstration. We here at StrossCo are incredibly excited to demonstrate our new power reactor. We are convinced that this wholly new design which is smaller, more powerful, and yet has the same operating costs will enable everyone in the Coalition to more easily power their ships, stations, and anything else that requires power. I wish to apologize that the demonstration reactor is so far away, but unfortunately HIDA regulations-” I noticed his eyes flick over to one of the people stationed around the room, and then nearly as quickly back to the audience, “-require it. Rest assured, it is perfectly safe, and will pose no danger to anyone when in regular operation. Now, if you please-” He gestured dramatically, and with a clunk and a noise like something spinning down, the lights went out. The screens went dead, and even the ever-present thrum of the environmental systems ceased. I felt light in my seat, and noticed my water bulb drifting slowly. All the power was off.

There were mumbles and murmurs of conversation as realization set in, and then, almost as quickly as the power went off, it returned. First gravity, then environmental, then lights and finally cameras and screens. Everything was back on, and the human in front was grinning wickedly. “Now, everything here - this frigate, the lights in the arena, all beacons, sensors, sentries and ships - everything - is being powered by our new reactor.”

What was previously a murmur of conversation rose in intensity when realization set in. If they were not lying - and they had no reason to lie - their singular reactor was powering more than nearly a dozen Coalition reactors. The power output was positively titanic. I could see notes being quickly written, and some others were muttering things into comms and dicts. Everyone was interested in this. I looked at the large screen, and noticed that the magnified view was gone. We could only see the small speck of the platform. I attempted to call up the magnified view on my pad, and could not access it. I stood and ruffled my feathers. “Pardon me. I notice that the magnified view of the reactor has been turned off. May we please get a close up view of the reactor in action?”

The StrossCo rep looked at me, and then I saw his eyes flick back to one of the suited humans. I didn’t see their reaction, but I could tell the rep was disappointed. “Er, no, I’m sorry. It seems to be… technical difficulties. Our tech teams are working now to get everything back up as quickly as possible.”

That couldn’t be right. Something felt off. I made my way past other members taking notes and making calls, and walked up to the screen. I got as close as I could and tried to get a better view. “Is there a physical viewport here? As you are aware, Innari have excellent vision. I would like to look at the reactor with my own eyes.”

“Uh, I’m afraid that is quite impossible right now; as you are aware -er, Sapient, human frigates have very few physical windows as they are a deliberate hole in the hull and are a structural weakness and-”

His rambling defence of not letting us see the reactor was cut off by the lights beginning to grow painfully bright. At the edge of my vision, I could see strobing. The environmental fans increased from a gentle movement of the air to a stiff breeze. Fortunately, the gravity remained the same. I looked up at the rep and all the color had drained from his face. “Pardon me” he said, absently and then ran out of the room. Not willing to give up learning what was going on, I followed.

He ran past the reception hall, towards a control room deeper in the ship. As we entered, it was a frantic commotion of movement and noise. One of the suited humans at the door noticed me, and raised an eyebrow, questioning, but said nothing.

“It’s overspeeding again! I told you it wasn’t ready to demo.” A human sitting at a station said to the rep as he walked in.

“Shut it down. Nobody has seen the reactor yet, we can switch back to shipboard power and Flipwarp everyone out of here before they see.” The rep had placed his hand on the back of the human’s chair and was peering over his shoulder at the screen. I couldn’t read the text, but I knew the humans used red to delineate problems, and the screens had a lot of red.

“What about the bird?” Another human looked over their shoulder at me and inclined their head. “They’re going to see the whole thing.”

“Don’t call them birds, you took the HR class same as me” the rep said, as he ran over to another station and pressed a few buttons. “He’s an Innari and one of the Coalition observers and we can have him sign an NDA. He wanted to see what the reactor looked like anyway.” He stood and looked at me. “You’re going to sign an NDA when this is all over.” It was not a question. I nodded - a human gesture.

“Can I see the reactor now?”

One of the black suited humans stepped into the room, the one that was by the door when the demonstration was going on I think. She exuded this… authority. She wasn’t dressed any differently than the other suited humans, but at her entrance, everyone calmed down, became more subdued. “Show him. He’s already agreed to sign the NDA.”

“But, the frame-dragging-effect will be-” the Rep’s protestations were weak.

“Show. Him.”

Without another word, he pressed a few more buttons on the panels, and a large screen in front of everyone lit up. It was the same view of the platform as before, but this one was magnified and much clearer than the ones we had in the demonstration hall.

Something was wrong with the reactor. I looked wrong. When I looked past it the gantry in view, the lights, the interstellar stars behind it were… spiraling. Everything directly behind the reactor from our vantage point was gently spiraling. Without a word, I looked at the woman who had ordered me to see it.

“It’s frame-dragging.” She said, with a sigh. “Again.” She looked down at me, and noticed my confusion. She must have some training with Innari body language. “Some of the components in the reactor are spinning relativistically, which is causing the local space-time fabric to… spin.”

“Is it spinning, or are we?” I said, confused.

“Yes.” She said and sighed again. “They can't stop it if it’s already frame dragging, it’s going too fast. The pseudomass is too high. We either have to disconnect it and hope it spins down or…” she trailed off.

“Or what?”

“Or everyone finds out why we ordered this demonstration to be done two parsecs from any inhabited world.”

Well, that explained that at least. I looked back at the woman who seemed to be in charge. “So, why don’t we just Flipwarp away?”

“Yes, Allan, why don’t we just Flipwarp away?” She said pointedly, while looking at the Rep.

“The investment at this point is in the kilotrillion Stars, we can’t just abandon-” he started, but then there was a flash of binding light from the reactor and I had thought it had detonated, but it… just… stayed.

“Oh, goody.” The human in charge said, flatly. “It’s started to accrete matter. Didn’t this happen the last time you ran a test Allan, and didn’t HIDA say that it was not to happen again?”

“Administrator McKay please, if we could only-” the human apparently named Allan said before he was cut off.

“No. This demonstration has finished. I am declaring an emergency, HIDA is now in charge.” Administrator McKay clicked a com on her wrist. “Captain, you will Flash us away right now. Best speed please.” There was a crackle of static and a small voice said something I couldn’t hear. “What do you mean, you can’t switch back to internal reactors?” More static and crackled voices. “No, that doesn’t make sense, the connections to-” before she could finish, there was a lurch, and I could feel the gravity begin to swing wildly, trying to compensate for the motion, but moving just an instant behind so it felt like I was being pulled in multiple directions.

“Administrator! The pseudomass has transitioned to physical mass! We are being pulled by the reactor’s gravity. Stationkeeping reports that the thrusters are being overwhelmed. If we don’t Flash soon, we won’t be able to.”

“Damn you, Allan.” She said, snarling, “If we survive this StrossCo will go back to being an indie publisher, I will personally ensure it.” She looked down at me. “Innari! You’ve been deputized. Come with me.” Without checking to see if I was following she took off down the hall.

I followed, what else could I do? Her long strides made her deceptively fast, but she never fell out of sight, and we reached a room deep within the ship. On either side of the bulkhead were two armed and armored guards. When Administrator McKay came into view, they saluted sharply.

She returned the salute quickly and said “We need to disconnect the umbilical to StrossCo’s test reactor so we can flash home on ours.”

“Right away Administrator,” and the guard on the right palmed a pad next to the door. There was a chirp and a green light, and the door slid open.

I’m an administrator, I’m not a reactor technician, a commander, or even an engineer. I talk to people, make deals. What I mean to explain is that I have no idea what a reactor hall - let alone a human reactor hall is supposed to look like.

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to look like this, however.

The room was painfully bright with sharp, stark shadows being cast by what I can only describe as a cable, stretched taut running down the middle of the hall. People wearing white suits with smoked helmets were running around the hall, trying to control something. I covered my eyes with my feathered hand, trying to not be dazzled, when Administrator McKay handed me a pair of goggles. Curiously, they were for Innari bodyplans. I wondered why she had those. Regardless, I put them on, and found that they were able to block the worst of the light from the cable while still enabling me to see. “Come along Inn-” She stopped. “What is your name? It feels rude to just call you ‘Innari.”

I couldn’t help myself. Even during an emergency, introductions must be done right. I stood up a little straighter and said “In the common parlance, I am called Howling Wind, though that is not my given name.”

“Nice to meet you, Howling Wind, I am Administrator Tiff McKay. Now that introductions are out of the way, I need you to go over to that panel, next to the cable.” She pressed a comm button into my hand, and almost reflexively, I clipped it to some feathers near my auditory input. Before I could ask why, she had taken off at a dead run towards the other end of the hall.

“Howling Wind, are you in position?” She asked a moment later.

I had made my way to the panel she indicated. I was much closer to the cable than I preferred to be. It’s not that it was… hot, but it almost radiated something beyond heat. It radiated the impression of heat. That would be fine right? Probably. Innari aren’t as susceptible to ionizing radiation as humans are, but this wasn’t radioactive, I thought. “I am at the panel Administrator McKay.”

“Good. While looking at the panel, there are a series of three buttons along the top right corner. They’re normally red and blue but with your goggles and the light from the cable that is probably washed out. Press them one time only moving from left to right.”

I pressed the buttons, and there was a click below me

“A panel will have opened up. I’ll need you to duck into the panel and tell me when you are in position.”

I looked in, and sure enough, an opening barely large enough for someone of my size had opened. I leaned in nearly all the way. “I am.. In the panel.”

“To your right is a lever. It has a trigger near the base. You must pull the trigger first and then push the lever. Do it now.”

“What will it-”

“Just do it Howl, there isn’t time.”

Mentally shrugging, and whispering a prayer to my Ancestors - may they watch over me and not laugh too much - I pulled the trigger, there was a detent and then I felt something like a spring release, and pushed the lever.

It was very hard to push. I had to put my whole body into it, and at first it felt like I wasn’t doing anything. I braced my back against the top of the panel, and pushed as hard as I could. When I thought I couldn’t push anymore, there was a clunk and a whipping, metallic noise and I was plunged into darkness. I could hear shouting and boots thundering around me, then there was the prismatic flash of light that filled the reactor room for an instant that indicated that we had Flashed.

I slowly slid myself out from under the panel, only to find Administrator McKay looming over me. She held out a hand, and I gladly took her help to get back on my talons. Sliding the goggles down from my face, I looked at her. “Just what… did we do?”

“We - er, you initiated a manual disconnect of the umbilical from the overspeeding reactor so that the frigate’s reactors could Flash us to safety. You saved everyone Howl.”

As she spoke, some of the reactor technicians took off their smoked goggles and took a look. I could feel their eyes staring at me.

I could only think of stupid things to say, so I just said it. “Why me?”

McKay laughed. “Just lucky I guess. There was a serious amount of ionizing radiation coming from the connector and I knew that Innari were much more resistant to radiation than humans, so I was able to get you to disconnect it. We’ll take you to med, but I think you’ll be fine. How are your hands?”

My hands? I looked down and… yes, some of the tiny feathers on my digits had turned gray, and were falling off, dead. It didn’t hurt though. Shouldn’t it hurt?

“Ah yes, some minor damage to your hands.” She said. “We’ll fix it up, don’t worry.”

“Why doesn’t it hurt?” I asked, dumfounded.

“It doesn’t hurt?” She seemed surprised. “I didn’t think Innari went into shock, so maybe the nerve endings were destroyed.” She patted my shoulder. “Regardless, you saved us all today Howl, thank you.” There were smiles and noises of thanks and congratulations coming from the reactor team, it was… odd.

“Everything happened so suddenly. I didn’t have time to question my reactions.” I said to her, as we walked down the hall towards med.

“Yes, that’s how emergencies go Howl. You did well. In fact-” She reached into her pocket and took out a small white card and placed it into the pocket of my sash. “When your hands are all healed, call me. We can always use people who can think on their feet.

#writing #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens

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anakinstwinklebunny · 4 months ago

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Pairing: stalker!mafia!anakin x f!reader

Epilogue

The penthouse was quiet, save for the muted hum of the city outside. ANAKIN'S SKYWALKER'S footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor, his stride purposeful and unhurried. The luxurious space was a testament to his power and wealth, but it held secrets within its walls that no one else knew. He moved with the ease of a man who owned everything in his domain, yet his mind was not on the riches around him—it was on you.

Reaching the end of the hall, he stopped before the door that blended seamlessly into the wall, invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was there. He pressed his hand against the hidden sensor, and with a soft click, the door unlocked, sliding open to reveal a narrow staircase descending into the darkness.

Anakin took a deep breath, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he descended the steps, each one creaking under his weight. His heart quickened with anticipation, a familiar thrill rushing through him as he approached the sanctuary he had built—a place where he could be alone with his thoughts, his desires, his obsession. His everything

He almost felt like a silly teenager again, all those butterflies flying in his stomach, circling their path. He felt it. And he loved feeling it. It was the thrill of the amazing feeling he could sense whenever his steps were closer to that room. Although, it wasn't just normal feeling. And it weren't normal butterflies. Everything was twisted to its own the most darkest form

Yet, he loved it. He cherished it. Like he would cherish you, if you'd let him.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was small and windowless, illuminated by a single dim light that cast long shadows across the walls. But those walls…they were alive with images. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of photos covered walls to every inch, creating a chaotic mosaic of your face, your smile, your life. Some were taken from afar, capturing moments when you thought you were alone, while others were closer, more intimate, as if someone had been standing right behind you.

There were candid shots of you at work, in the café, laughing with friends, walking down the street, oblivious to the camera’s gaze. There were even images from inside your apartment—photos of you sleeping, eating, reading, crying, sitting in dull silence. Your entire life mapped out in obsessive detail, each picture telling a story that only he could understand.

Anakin’s fingers brushed over one of the photographs, a close-up of your face, serene in sleep. He traced the curve of your cheek with his thumb, his eyes dark with an intensity that bordered on madness. His breathing deepened, the room seeming to shrink around him as he was consumed by the overwhelming need that had driven him to this point.

He imagined himself touching you, but not in sexual way - more in a gentle, loving way a real partner would do. He wanted to feel the heat of your face, to feel the light skin against his fingertips. He wanted to make you feel like a goddess. Because that's what you were for him

Yet in among everything, it wasn’t just about wanting you that way. It had more of a darker meaning, even when he didn't want to admit it. It was about possessing you, consuming you, making sure that no one else could ever touch what was his. You had become his world, the axis around which everything else revolved, and the thought of losing you—of you slipping through his fingers—was unbearable.

He walked to the center of the room, where a small table stood, cluttered with more mementos of you—a strand of hair, a piece of jewelry you had lost, a napkin with your lipstick stain. He picked up a ring, one he had bought but hadn’t given to you yet. It wasn’t time. Not yet. But soon.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as if he could breathe in your essence from these objects. The sweet, fruity fragrance he swore followed him everywhere.

The room, this shrine to his obsession, was both his refuge and his prison. It was here where he allowed himself to indulge in the darkness that he kept hidden from you, the side of him that even you, in your love and trust, could never fully know.

At least for now.

His eyes snapped open, and he looked around the room with a newfound determination. This was a game, after all—a game of strategy and patience. Every move he made was calculated, every little action of his was for the sake to make you fall right into his arms. He was playing a dangerous game, but he was the master of it. And now, with each passing day, you were beginning to play it too, though you didn’t even realize it.

Anakin turned toward the door, the ring still clutched in his hand burned a hole in his palm. As he began to climb the stairs, he glanced back at the room one last time, a dark smile playing on his lips.

“Would you be able to play this game?” he murmured to the shadows, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or is it already too late?"

The door slid shut behind him, the room becoming dark once again. Just like his owner's heart

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @jyinnc @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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peydawgz · 2 months ago

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Could we mayhaps get a curvy reader x hazard pretty please 💕

Yes and you get bonus Ramattra because I am ✨bricked up✨

Hazard

Fin looks at you with his eyes and his heart. He is enamored with your beauty. If youve got a naughty side showing, say a tattoo or a piercing, some showy outfit, or serving the punk look, he’s like a moth to the flame.

He’s kind and gentle with you, and treats you like royalty. He’ll defend you till death, and probably spend all his money on you. He goes out of his way with everything in his life.

You’re so warm and cozy, and you fit so perfect in his lap he would rather cuddle you forever. He likes to rest his hand on your stomach while you lay together, and mmm your thighs are so squishy and tempting. (Literally how to spoon, tiddy in da hand, kiss ya neck, dick hard on the butt. Hell yeah)

He’s always touching your butt fr, like just a little pat sometimes when you’re ahead of him, but also when you’re in privacy he’ll just grope you for fun. He loves kissing your neck and cheeks, and kissing you anywhere in fact.

He would never ever put you down or have any negativity near your relationship. In fact, he’s more of your hype man. He loves when you dress up and play with your fashion sense. He encourages you to wear whatever you want though, and finds you very adorable and attractive in your comfy outfits.

He’s a big guy, and when he gives you one of his jackets you find you are swallowed in it. He loves you so much, he can’t help but squeeze you up into a hug.

He loves to hold your stomach, in any way. Picking you up and giving you a cute little spin around when he sees you, or just simply wrapping his arms around you and holding you to his chest.

I think if you licked him it would turn him on,, and fr he would do it back he’s such a cute weirdo.

Ramattra

Your kindness towards him drew him in. You treated him like he was any other, and just lived your humble human life. He learned that he must have a heart,, because you stole it.

Ramattra wants to protect you at all costs, because you are the best thing that could have happened to him. If anyone says a word, he will destroy them. He’s never desired an omnic/human relationship more than ever before you came around.

He is like an animal, although he is machine. He tilts his head in curiosity, when he sees something he likes. He approaches slowly, and is almost fearful at first touching you. Then, he is just leaning all over you and nuzzling you everywhere.

His cold metal hands explore every curve, sending you shivers. He is starving for your touch, absolutely melting when your fingers go for his coils of “hair”. Every receptor and sensor is tingling with sensation,,, like what one would call butterflies in your stomach.

You love when he is in Nemesis form, his larger arms surrounding you and making you feel so small and cute. He picks you up bridal style, nuzzling his faceplate into your neck and seemingly purring.

He falls in love with every inch of you, and cuddle time is usually spent with you on top of him. His hands hold your thighs pressed against his cool body, helping you relax as your head lay on his chest. He strokes your back, and maybe will him you a gentle song.

Omg kiss him!!! Smooch him everywhere for real!! He wanna kiss you so bad,, all he can do is nuzzle and touch you :(

#overwatch #ramattra #hazard x reader #findlay docherty #overwatch headcanons #overwatch imagines #ramattra x reader

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foone · 2 years ago

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Do you ever think about the idea of a Desire Sensor and just get lost in the implications?

A “Desire Sensor” is a thing in gaming where what’s in a box/what drops from an enemy changes based on what you need. Think Metroid: If you have full missiles and low health, enemies drop health powerups. Low missiles and full health, you get missile powerups.

For example, here’s a box in Half Life 2: Episode 2:

What’s in the box? Well, it depends...

I saved my game. Then I cheated my health to full, while leaving my machine gun ammo low.

Oh hey, it’s full of machine gun ammo! Very handy.

I load the game, cheat for full weapons, and damage myself down to low health. What’s in the box now?

Oh hey, it’s a healthkit. So handy!

It’s like Schrödinger's cat but going ever further: Neither thing is in the box until you open it, because the game hasn’t decided yet what you need. It might be both! Hell, in some games, it might be neither.

It’s just a side-effect of how the simulated video game universe doesn’t obey the same physical laws as the real universe, like object permanence and ontological inertia. Instead, what happens depends on what the programmers wanted to happen, and they can and will cheat if it makes a better game.

It’s almost like the entire universe is on your side. Yeah there’s monsters and you’ll have to fight them, but the universe itself is watching over you, and changing the laws of physics to give you what you need. God is on your side, quite literally: The programmers who created this world want you to succeed, because they want you to enjoy this game, and a game you can’t beat is rarely what’s intended. There’s trials and tribulations along your way, sure, but it’s not supposed to be more than you can handle. It’s supposed to make the journey more exciting for you.

The universe is watching and it wants to give you some help on your journey today. Good luck.

#video games #half life 2

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derpderpi · 6 months ago

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Me : okay i want *4 Xu Fu Yey

Also fgo :

Wth

#fgo #desire sensor is real #yep no xu fu :D

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preggopushes · 3 months ago

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Project Aphrodite

Elizabeth is the solo Captain of a spaceship sent to populate a new sector.

WARNING: NSFW, there will be nudity, sexually explicit descriptions, sex with a machine, pregnancy, rapid pregnancy, and childbirth

**Originally posted on DeviantArt, but I thought some people on Tumblr might enjoy it also**

Day 284

Captain Elizabeth McDaniel stood stiff and motionless, staring at the numbers on the pin pad. She wore the dark blue casual-dress uniform of a galactic space officer. She had been wearing the same style uniform since blasting off from earth 283 ½ days ago.

She stood 5 foot 6 inches tall and weighed 122 pounds. She had straight, short blonde hair and a plain, but pleasant face. She wouldn’t win a beauty contest, but that didn’t stop men from asking her out or ogling her rear when she passed.

The tight uniform revealed her petite, but sturdy figure. The top exposed the shape of her small perky breasts and her slim middle. The bottom displayed her plentiful thighs and shapely backside that protruded with an ample curve.

She was a decisive and data driven woman, but she found herself unusually conflicted. She knew her next action would begin a sequence of events that she couldn’t turn back from. It was natural, she reasoned, to be hesitant to push the buttons. She took a deep, wavering breath and forced her hand to reach out…

7 – 5 – 2 – 8 – ENTER

The bio pod that held the pin pad beeped and the upper hatch slowly opened. The pod had a blue base and a clear top. It was big enough to accommodate one human laying down inside. Elizabeth shuddered. She slipped off her shoes and stepped one foot into the pod. She swung her other foot over the blue lip and reached her hands behind her. She lowered herself, like she was sitting into a big bathtub. The soft cushions inside were comfortable on her body.

She pulled a laminated sheet from a spot near her left hand. She knew the upcoming procedure by memory, but her training forced her to follow the written checklist, no matter how simple.

#1 - Remove all clothing

She took another deep breath, then pulled the zipper of her uniform from her neck down to her crotch. Next, she wiggled the one-piece uniform from her torso, then off her legs. She reached behind her and released the clasp of her bra, then shimmied out of her plain white panties.

#2 - Execute bio scan function. If abnormalities discovered, discontinue procedure

She pushed the bio scan button on the touchscreen inside the pod. She was still as the pod whirred. She could see several sensors moving around her, evaluating every part of her. The pod replied, “no abnormalities discovered.” Her body was healthy and ready.

#3 – Authenticate identity by pressing hand onto screen

She pressed her hand. “Captain McDaniel, identity confirmed.”

#4 – Confirm procedure

She pushed the button on the screen, Population.

#5 – Select number of specimens for implantation

Since it was her first procedure, she knew the only approved selection was 1. She pressed the button.

#6 – Place legs into stirrups

Captain McDaniel took another deep breath and then spread her legs wide into the stirrups on the inner walls of the bio pod. She was annoyed that her body trembled slightly, exposing the emotion she always worked hard to hold inside. Despite her scientific approach to the upcoming events, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, and totally absolutely vulnerable in the position.

#7 – Calmly accept the procedure

Back on earth, she always laughed during training at the word calmly. There’s no way she would be calm when the real procedure began. Sure, the procedure had been tested and considered very safe. But this would be the first time her own body did anything resembling intercourse, and this frightened her virgin mind more than anything.

At the galactic academy, her entire focus had been on the demanding academics. Some of the boys tried to date her, but she didn’t have time or the desire for them. She almost kissed a boy once during a study session, but she pulled back before their lips met, embarrassed that she almost gave in to the urge.

She heard the whispers from her more popular classmates. They called her ice queen, bitchy Lizzy, her majesty, and worse. But she was driven to accomplish something. She aspired to be on the first mission of Project Aphrodite’s population ships, headed to the far reaches of the galaxy. She would setup new settlements for humans and explore the vast unknown.

The reward for her hard work and self-control at the galactic academy was this mission and 284 days of loneliness. She was the captain of the spaceship, but she was the only crew. For now.

With the checklist complete, the pod sprang into action. The top lid slowly closed, sealing Elizabeth inside. She didn’t plan to resist the procedure, but it was still unnerving to be trapped inside the tight space. The pod began to play soft music. Presumably it was calming, but it made her eyes roll.

Then she saw it. A metal arm began to emerge from the bottom of the pod. She had studied the engineering specifications and knew it was made from titanium and powered by several high-pressure hydraulic cylinders. A clear tube ran the length of the arm. The tube was connected to a special prosthetic at the end of the arm closest to her spread legs. Her classmates said it was shaped like a dildo, but she wouldn’t know. Her focus was on her goals, and self-pleasure was an unnecessary distraction.

The arm moved through a limited range of motion, completing its self-test, then it halted in place, ready. The pod announced, “please provide verbal approval to begin recording.”

When Elizabeth had been selected to be the captain of the first Project Aphrodite ship, she was ecstatic for the honor. She quickly accepted the position, but then she learned that the first ship was expected to complete an additional task. The task mortified her.

She was expected to record her first procedure. The recording would be beamed to the 49 ships that launched after hers. The galactic high command thought it was important for the other spaceship captains to know what to expect from their own procedures. Elizabeth was expected to narrate the experience as it happened to her.

She mustered her courage and simply said, “YES.”

The voice in the pod asked another question, “Are you prepared to begin, Captain McDaniel? Once the process starts, it cannot be stopped.” Elizabeth had rehearsed the next part. The pod’s protocol required a very specific reply to initiate the procedure. She knew she would hesitate if she allowed her mind to think, so she had practiced her response over-and-over, becoming robotic, “this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Verified. Ready.”

Day 285

Captain McDaniel rounds the corner into the ship’s main living quarters. She’s still wearing the casual-dress uniform and her face is unchanged. However, her body has undergone an astonishing transformation.

Prominently poking out from her middle is a round, watermelon shaped belly. She’s unmistakably with child, probably about 6 months along. Her previously small, perky breasts are a little fuller and a little rounder. Her hips are somewhat wider, her thighs slightly thicker, and her walk is slow with a distinct waddle.

These visible changes are somehow overshadowed by the unseen ones. Normally a tightly wound ball of nervous energy, she’s now calm and relaxed. Her placid blue eyes betray a woman a peace with her situation, even enjoying it.

She sits down in a chair in the living quarters and places her hands on top of her bulbous belly. She looks down expectantly as if she’s waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly she takes a wavering breath, and she sits up straighter. Then she puts her hands down on the chair, steadying herself. She’s calm but, “oooh,” slips out of her mouth. As she vocalizes, her back arches and her belly presses outwards. She’s growing, expanding. The fabric of her galactic officer’s casual-dress uniform stretches to accommodate her larger features.

“Mmmmm,” she lets out, then she slowly gets up and takes two timid steps, testing her balance. She no longer looks 6 months pregnant, she’s now at least 7 months along. She rubs her tummy with genuine compassion, whispering, “hi baby, you’re doing such a good job. I can’t wait to meet you.”

She begins a deliberate walk to the kitchen area. She’s apparently starving after the growth spurt. She quickly polishes off a bowl of cereal, a banana, and an apple.

After eating, she pulls out a device and sets in on the table. After pressing some buttons, she begins to speak into it.

“This is Captain McDaniel. I just had my sixth growth acceleration, making me seven equivalent months pregnant. My body tolerated the acceleration very well. It wasn’t painful, but I can feel my belly getting very tight. I know it won’t be long now until I’m in labor. Personal note: even though the baby isn’t technically mine, I feel an overwhelming sense of love for it. Elizabeth, out.”

She pulls herself back up, then walks to her bunk and lays down for a short nap.

The beep of an alarm clock wakes her 45 minutes later. She groggily rubs her tummy, seeming to be cherishing the experience of maternity. Then she finally pulls her body to a sitting position. She braces herself for what’s coming. She’s silent as she waits. With each breath, her new ample bosom bulges outwards, showing off the growth of her mammaries.

Abruptly, she shakes and her eyes narrow. It’s happening again. This time, it’s slightly more intense. Her big tummy jerks forward and her head arches back. The tummy grows for nearly 5 seconds as she exclaims, “Goooo-ooooo-ooooo.”

She rubs her nearly full-term belly, then she speaks to it, “wow, you’re kicking kiddo! Like a little kickboxer in there. Go easy on mommy, ok?”

Like last time, she finds her way to the kitchen area and pulls out some food. This time she finishes two bowls of cereal and a double ration of yogurt.

Again, she pulls out the recording device and speaks into it. “This is Captain McDaniel. I just had the seventh acceleration. My body is very big now. My belly is so large that I can’t see my feet, and my breasts are considerably bigger than normal. The process wasn’t painful this time, but it was uncomfortable stretching to this size. Of note, I can feel the baby moving inside my belly now. I’ll be headed to the bio-pod soon to prepare for labor. Elizabeth, out.”

Finally, she nervously gets up and begins to sluggishly move towards the pod. Her belly swings left, then right, jiggling with each heavy step.

When she reaches the pod, she stops and begins pulling down the zipper of her uniform. She clears her bosom, but her big tummy is more of a challenge. She tugs to adjust her strained uniform several times before finding an angle that allows the zipper to pass over the apex of her hefty curve.

She sits on the side of the pod and pulls off her white socks, white bra, and white panties. Now completely nude, she takes a second to examine her body.

Her breasts have grown from a small b-cup to a hefty c-cup. The boobs are topped by big, dark nipples. The milkers hang lower now with a torpedo shape, ready to provide sustenance to the baby inside her. Her ample ass has widened moderately and her previously plentiful and toned thighs are now thicker and juicier. And of course, her previously petite belly is most eye-catching. It’s now round and giant, but has dropped low, preparing to expel the big baby. On her flanks, very faint stretch marks, like a tiger’s stripes, are detectable. Between her legs, the slit of her puffy, hairless vagina looks cute and dainty, not quite ready to stretch open to accommodate the big baby’s birth.

Elizabeth pulls her weighty body over the lid of the pod and lays herself into the comfortable seat. She sits there, cuddling her belly with her hands, waiting.

She takes a deep breath with alarm. Her big belly pulsates and lunges forward as she grows again. The stretch marks on her sides turn darker and lengthen as her skin expands to accept the swell. She gasps, with a hint of distress, “Ho-OO-oo-OO-o” as she continues growing for two more seconds. Then she embraces her big tummy, exploring the most recent changes in her gravid form.

She finally speaks, “nutrition, please.”

A small cabinet in the side of the pod pops open, and she takes an energy bar from it. It’s quickly devoured.

Then she speaks again, “turn camera on and begin recording.”

The pod replies, “verify camera status?”

“Verified, camera on,” she confirms.

Still devoted to procedures, she finds the laminated sheet and begins following the checklist:

#1 - Remove all clothing

She is already completely nude, so there is nothing more to do.

#2 - Execute bio scan function. If abnormalities discovered, follow recommended alternate birth plan

She pushes the bio scan button on the touchscreen inside the pod. She is still as the pod whirrs and the sensors move. In contrast to her still body, her ripe abdomen gyrates and shifts as the active baby somersaults inside her. When it has completed its work, the pod replies, “no abnormalities discovered.”

#3 – Authenticate identity by pressing hand onto screen

She presses her hand. “Captain McDaniel, identity confirmed.”

#4 – Confirm procedure

She pushes the button on the screen, Induction, Vaginal Labor.

#5 – Place legs into stirrups

She heaves her legs into the stirrups on the sides of the pod. Yesterday she had been in the same position to conceive the child. Today she’ll be pushing like this.

Once in position, she turns her face to the camera: “Hello fellow Galactic Space Officers, this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. I’ve now completed eight growth accelerations and as you can tell, I’m full term with the first baby to populate my sector. In a second I’ll be initiating the protocol for vaginal labor induction in the bio pod. As high command ordered, I’ll beam the video of the entire birth and narrate my experience. I hope this will help you know what to expect from your own upcoming labors and deliveries.”

#6 – Calmly accept the procedure

Unlike her previous procedure in the pod, she appears relaxed, even calm. She’s a woman at peace with a baby growing inside her big belly. Pregnancy is her calling.

While she waits, the pod performs several new self-tests, preparing the necessary tools to support her labor and delivery.

When the tests are complete, the pod asks, “Are you prepared to begin, Captain McDaniel? Once you are induced, your labor cannot be stopped.” Elizabeth doesn’t hesitate, “This is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Ready to induce labor for the first of 64 babies to populate my assigned sector of Project Aphrodite.”

The pod asks, “As you prepared to receive the Pitocin shot?”

Elizabeth calmly replies, “yes, I’m ready.” As she speaks a wave flows across her gravid, protruding middle. The baby is still busy in her uterus.

The pod says, “please hold still while your first dose of Pitocin is administered.” Within 3 seconds, a metal arm emerges from the left side and jabs a needle into Elizabeth’s arm. She winces briefly, then says, “I just received a dose of Pitocin. It felt similar to a flu shot, just a mild sting for a second.”

About 5 minutes pass with Elizabeth getting visibly antsy. Finally, she speaks, “I feel a very unfamiliar sensation, like my body is cramping. It was mild at first, but now it’s already getting quite powerful.”

The pod’s soothing voice says, “Captain McDaniel, you should use the recommended breathing profile to ease your labor pains.”

Elizabeth snaps into a focus and begins to breathe, “ho, ho, ha….ho, ho, ha…ho, ho, ha.” As she huffs, her belly continues to pulsate and gyrate from the baby’s movements.

After a bit, the pod’s sensors begin to move. When they halt, the pod announces, “you’re now 1 centimeter dilated, Captain McDaniel.”

Elizabeth updates her viewers, “Hu, oh, I feel significant cramps inside my, oh, abdomen. I can handle it, but the sensation is much more than I expected. The breathing helps, though.” She goes back to her breathing, “ho, ho, ha-aa.”

For the next minutes, she continues like this, her breathing getting deeper and heavier. As time goes on, her breaths begin to cause her belly to heave each time she exhales. Her feminine body is engaged in a truly grueling endeavor.

The pod provides another update, “You’re now nearly 3 centimeters, Captain McDaniel. The baby’s vital signs are within tolerances. Your heart rate is slightly elevated. Please try to relax.”

More contractions pulsate through Elizabeth’s body as she takes slow, wavering breaths.

Elizabeth gives another update, “the cramping feeling has turned into significant contractions now. Each time I contract, I can feel tugging and pulling inside my body, like I’m being forced opened from the inside. It’s, uh…ho, ho, ha…quite, uhhh, uncomfortable. Oh WOW!”

Between her spread, juicy thighs, her dainty vajayjay is beginning to transform. Previously a petite slit, it’s getting redder and puffier, preparing to stretch wide for the baby.

Twenty minutes later, the pod completes another check with the sensors. “You’re now 5 centimeters dilated, Captain McDaniel. All vitals are nominal.”

Elizabeth, now sweating, updates her fellow space travelers, “Wowee, this is hard. I really didn’t know it would be like this. I don’t know if I can do it. Oh, UH, I can feel everything OPENING!”

The pod announces, “please hold still Captain McDaniel, administering another Pitocin dose.” At that, her left arm is jabed again.

The impact of the dose is immediate. She gasps and her body contracts violently, causing her watermelon belly to lift into the air.

Talking to herself while she rubs her big belly, she says, “Are you kidding???? OOOHHH, how is this baby going to come out? It’s too big.”

After a bit more time, the pod speaks again, “Captain McDaniel, it is time to break your water. Please do not be alarmed.”

The same apparatus that impregnated her rises from between her thighs. It wastes no time, plunging into her spread pussy. She grunts, “gu, uh, OH,” as it pushes deep into her womanhood.

The result is an incredible spray of fluid from her opening. The pod quickly vacuums the liquid, keeping the birthing area sanitary.

Elizabeth appears momentarily relieved. Then her tummy convulses with another contraction. She tells the camera, “Omigosh, it’s like a bowling ball is trying to come through me! It’s huge! MY WOMB. Oh, HUUUU, I can do it, though.”

While she contracts, her milk-swelled boobs jiggle and bounce as she exerts.

The pod’s sensors check her again, “You’re eight now centimeters Captain McDaniel. Your progress has been rapid. All vitals are still nominal.”

She gives another update. “The pressure is mammoth. I can’t believe how full I am. I knew labor would be difficult, but this is unbelievable.”

Elizabeth goes back to her breathing. She huffs and puffs, “Hu, Hooooo, Hu, GUUUUU, HAAAAA.” Her eyes are fixed as she pants, like a woman possessed.

Fifteen more minutes pass with Elizabeth locked in an intense state of labor. Her face grows red on every contraction, and she cries each time with apprehension. Her short, blonde hair is matted with sweat.

“OH, OH, my vagina. There’s something in it. HA, HAAA, HUU, I need to push. BLOODY HELL!!!”

The pod updates again, “you’re 10 centimeters Captain McDaniel. You should begin pushing the baby through your birth canal now.”

Her belly constricts and she pulls her legs back farther. Her whole-body tenses and she bears down. Her face turns red, and she groans, “Uhhhhhhhhh.” Then she releases, “Ah, Ah, Ahhhhhhh.”

“Oh my word! It’s breaking me apart. Ho, Hu, Hoooo.”

Her body doesn’t give a break and it constricts again. She bears down and her belly bumps upwards as another groan comes from her.

She pushes eight more times.

On the next push, her vagina bulges, and a sliver of the baby’s head peaks through. She cries out, “Gaaaaa, UHHHHHH.”

She pushes once more and her pussy bulges. This time her slit starts to spread into a lovely teardrop shape.

She gives another update to the camera, “Oh, ooh, I can feel my vagina expanding when I push. I’m so full. HAAAAA!”

She pushes five more times. Each push causes her vagina to open an additional inch wider and makes her scream, “GAAAAA, Ahhh, HU.”

She pushes another time, then the pod gives another update, “you’re fully crowned Captain McDaniel. Continue pushing.”

Her vagina is fully engulfed by the baby’s head. She reaches down to examine herself. She trembles when she realizes how wide she’s spread.

She pushes again and again, screaming each time.

Between pushes, she updates her colleagues, “I feel the ring of fire. It’s like my vagina is on fire! Motherfucker!!! HA, HA, HA!”

She pushes and her womanhood bulges. This time, the baby’s head slips free, causing her to yelp, “AAAyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Somehow, she’s calm as the baby holds her body wide open.

Her eyes widen as she contracts again, and she cries out as the baby’s shoulders gradually spread her vajayjay even wider.

She pushes again. Her body shakes as the entirety of her feminine body’s power focusses to propel the baby from her birth canal.

She screams as the big baby slowly exits her massively spread vagina, “AHHHH, GAAAAAAA, AYYYYYY, HI, HI, Hoooo.”

Elizabeth pulls the baby to her chest. After a minute, she turns to the camera, “I did it. I birthed this baby!” Tears stream down her face, “I can’t wait to do this 63 more times!”

DAY 286

While the crying baby squirms on her chest, the pod’s utensils work quickly on Elizabeth’s birth canal and several injections poke her shoulder. She appears not to notice the pod’s work. Her focus is firmly fixed on the beautiful child in her arms.

After a few minutes, the pod announces, “Captain McDaniel, your body has been restored from your pregnancy, labor, and delivery. Please avoid strenuous activity for 48 hours, but you will be ready for the next population event in 96 hours. Please exit the pod at your leisure.” At that, the pod’s clear lid opens with a light hissing sound.

After a few more minutes, Elizabeth casually pulls her nude body upright and begins to exit the pod with the baby in her arms. Her tummy is petite again and the pregnant features of her body have vanished. The pod’s powerful restorative capabilities have returned her to pre-pregnancy form.

She softly weeps as she walks away from the pod, knowing that her next task is bittersweet. She reaches the suspended animation area of the ship and quietly slips the baby into one of numerous small vertical pods, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The small pod immediately springs into action, cradling the baby and inducing the suspended animation that the baby will be in for the remainder of the trip.

Elizabeth ambles over to find her uniform on the floor and pulls it over her naked body. She strolls to the kitchen area and pulls out a standard ration of food. As she’s eating, she pulls out her recorder and sets it on the table beside her.

Speaking into the recorder she says, “this is Captain McDaniel. I just placed the first baby into suspended animation.”

She takes a deep breath, then goes on, “I found the birth experience to be more physically challenging that I expected; it was incredibly demanding. However, I feel incredibly accomplished, joyful, and satisfied. I feel like a true woman now, having carried a child in my womb and birthed it from my loins. The birth itself was very painful, more than I expected. I could feel every centimeter of the baby thrusting through my birth canal and stretching my insides. It felt like it was a giant. It was a monumental trial, more than any athletic test at the galactic academy. And it was excruciating to push the head out of my vagina. I honestly didn’t think it would fit. However, the pain evaporated as soon as the baby came out and now I feel great after the pod restored my body.”

She sighs a little, “I feel lonely now, though. After 284 days alone it was nice to share the ship with another living being. I felt so connected with the baby in my belly. I miss feeling the kicks in my tummy and the gentle squirming. But I’ll have another one in my womb in 95 hours. I really can’t wait. Elizabeth, out.”

She finishes her meal, then rises and heads to her bunk for some much-deserved rest. She pulls the covers over her body and closes her eyes. She normally falls directly asleep, but tonight is different. She tosses and turns for a few minutes.

She sits up and bites her lip with a confused look on her face. She’s beginning to recognize a new feeling growing inside her. She’s horny, super horny. She had always managed to suppress this feeling, but after the new experiences of the past 2 days she’s a liberated woman and unable to hold back anymore.

She tentatively reaches a hand under her uniform and gingerly grazes her pulsing pussy. It’s moist from her fluids. The slickness is unfamiliar, but then she remembers the leaking fluid from when the pod impregnated her. She enjoys the feel of her throbbing pussy against her fingertips as she explores her tender clit.

After rubbing herself for a minute, she stops, pulls out the recorder, and sets it on the bed. She taps a few buttons, and a hologram begins projecting beside the bed. She presses more buttons and it starts replaying her procedure in the pod. Elizabeth watches, mesmerized at the view of herself, nude in the pod. In the hologram she says,

“…this is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. Verified. Ready.” As soon as she says this, the arm between her spread legs slowly rises, springing into action. The pod says, “relax your body, Captain McDaniel. It will make the process much less distressing.” She’s breathing quickly, clearly nervous for her virgin pussy to be entered for the first time.

She turns to the camera, shaking slightly, “I’m so, uh, n-nervous. I’ve never d-d-done something like this. I’ve never had intercourse before. I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

The pod says, “please spread your legs wider, Captain McDaniel.’ She spreads her shapely legs wider, leaving her pussy spread and ripe for being ravished by the machine.”

The arm moves closer to her pussy. She pulls away slightly and gasps with alarm, “ah!”

The dildo shaped apparatus stops, then spurts some clear liquid onto her cunt. The pod says, “you should massage the lubricant over yourself.”

She complies and clumsily wipes the lube into her tight womanhood. The dildo softly moves up and down her slit, giving her a taste of what’s coming. She whimpers, “uh-h-h-h-h,” with uncertainty.

The pod speaks again as her body shakes harder. “Captain McDaniel, please provide verbal confirmation that you consent to intercourse and impregnation.”

She hesitates, then says, “This is Captain Elizabeth McDaniel. I consent to sexual intercourse and my body being impregnated.”

The arm moves even closer, until the tip is touching her vulva, poised to spear into her. Her breathing turns into deep throaty gasps as she prepares her mind to be fornicated. Each breath makes her chest heave and her firm boobs bounce. Her exposed nipples have grown erect and become dark red from the increased blood flow.

Finally, the pod counts down. “Penetration in Three…Two…One.” Her eyes go wide as the big dildo starts inching into her womanhood. She’s calm for a second, then she cries out, “Oh IT’S SO BIG! I CAN’T.”

The pod replies, “do not be alarmed. This is normal, Captain McDaniel. Your vagina will stretch to accommodate the apparatus.”

Apparently remembering her responsibility to narrate, she turns her head slightly and reports, “I-I-I can feel it inside me. I’ve never, ha, had anything inside me before. It’s making me feel, oh, so full. So much stretching!”

With the apparatus nearly halfway inside her, she huffs, “Hoooo, Hoooo, Hoooo,” as the arm pushes the apparatus farther into her petite orifice. She cries out, “that’s enough. I don’t think I can take anymore!”

The pod replies with its clinical voice, “the apparatus was designed specifically for your anatomy, Captain McDaniel. It’s important that you accept the whole thing to increase the chances of conception.”

She struggles to pull her legs wider to better accommodate the girth, then she speaks to the viewers again. “It’s so much bigger than I expected. The stretching hurts, but…”

The apparatus slides even deeper, making her eyes shoot wider, “Ow-w-w-w-w.”

She continues “…but I like it! I want it to keep filling me!”

She arches her back, pressing her slim tummy into the air a few inches as she sighs, “Ahhhhhh-h-h-h-h.” She places her left hand on top of her abdomen, like she’s trying to sense how full she really is.

She moans, “Mmmmmm, mmmmm, MMMM! MMMM! MMMM!” It’s vague at first, but slowly it becomes more apparent. Her splayed hips are starting to gyrate and hump back into the machine that has infiltrated her womanhood.

On the bed, Elizabeth manipulates the viewpoint of the hologram, zooming onto her spread cunt.

In the hologram, her body has fully accepted the whole apparatus inside her pussy. The girth holds her vagina open as she reaches her fingers down and caresses her vaginal lips that are stretched around the apparatus.

The pod says, “please move your fingers Captain McDaniel, commencing copulation.”

Looking to the camera, she says, “its big…but, ha, I LIKE IT!” She is no longer shaking.

The arm begins small movements, pulling out an inch and then pushing back into Elizabeth’s body. She gasps on each push, “HA, oh, HA, oh, HA, oh, HA.”

The amplitude of the movement grows bigger, and the gyration of Elizabeth’s hips becomes more powerful. She begins gasping more urgently, “HO, HA-A, HO, HA-A, HO, HA-A.”

She spreads her arms to her sides, trying to grab onto something, then she reaches above her head and finds a handhold. She aggressively humps into the machine now, squealing, “HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH, HE-E, UH.” Her peppy boobs lunge up and down as her body bobs with the machine’s movements.

She speaks to the camera without looking, “UH-H, it feels so good! UH-H, so good!”

The pod says, “impregnation commencing in one minute.”

Elizabeth fucks harder, letting the machine bottom out inside her on each push. Then, she cries out, “I’M CUMMING!!! HE-E, HI-I, HE-E, HI-I, HE-E, HI-I.” Each cry makes her modest titties rocket into the air and jiggle.

The pod announces, “prepare to be filled, Captain McDaniel.”

The machine slows and holds deep inside her. She moans with pleasure, “MMMMMMMMM,” and her eyes roll backwards. The clear tube connected to the apparatus surges with visible fluid.

Elizabeth’s nude body jerks and her eyes bulge as the fluid begins to flood into her reproductive tract. It’s obvious that she’s about to accept a massive load.

She proclaims, “I can feel it flowing into my womb. OH, it’s filling me up. OH, my uterus is inflating.”

The lower part of her tummy swells outwards an inch, then another big gush enters her uterus, and her tummy expands more.

She continues narrating, “I feel it stretching me, but MMMM, OH, I want it! MORE!”

Finally, her carnal session ends, and the apparatus slowly retreats out of her pussy. Some of the viscous liquid seeps out of her loose hole, but most of it remains inside her.

The pod whirrs as it examines her nude body, then it announces, “Congratulations, Captain McDaniel. You have conceived a child in your womb.”

Watching the hologram in her bed, Elizabeth vigorously rubs her clit while juices continue leaking from her sex. Reliving her impregnation is incredibly arousing for her.

She takes a brief break and then presses a button on her recorder. The hologram changes and begins displaying her pregnant laboring body in the pod. She adjusts the angle to capture her entire lower body.

In the hologram, she grunts, “GUUUU, HUUUUU,” and curls her body around her big belly, bearing down with all her might. Her vagina stretches open two inches as her body shakes from exertion.

Her round, soft belly heaves as she catches her breath. Then it constricts into a tight ball as her abdominal muscles contract, and she pushes again. Her pussy spreads even wider and she cries out, “AYYYYY-YYYYY-YYYYY.”

The baby recedes slightly into her red vajayjay, then she pushes again, forcing the baby’s head to spread her even wider.

The head holds her open as she gets a short break. She pants, “ho, ha, ho, ha, ho,” as her body rests. Then she cries, “HAAAAA,” as another contraction squeezes her belly.

In the bunk, Elizabeth continues pleasuring herself, watching in amazement at how wide her body had opened to accommodate the baby’s birth.

In the hologram, she pushes and her womanhood bulges. This time, the baby’s head slips free, causing her to yelp, “AAAyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”

Somehow, she’s calm as the baby holds her body wide open.

Her eyes widen as she contracts again. She cries out as the baby’s shoulders gradually spread her vajayjay even wider.

She pushes again. Her body shakes as the entirety of her feminine power focusses to propel the baby from her birth canal.

She screams as the big baby slowly exits her massively spread vagina, “AHHHH, GAAAAAAA, AYYYYYY, HI, HI, Hoooo.”

Between the sheets in her bunk, Elizabeth cums, crying out, “HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I, HY-Y, HI-I.”

Satisfied, she ends the hologram and quickly falls asleep, dreaming about doing this 63 more times.

--The End--

#fpreg #preggo kink #birth fiction #birth kink #labor fiction #labor kink #maiesiophilia #preg kink #birth fic #labor fic #breeding k1nk #impregnation kink #impregnation fantasy #PreggoPushesWrites

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iz-star · 3 months ago

Text

I don't often talk about our precious MC (I should do it more) but I truly love this girl.

Recently I completed a set of kitty badges with Sylus (can't remember which one) and she talks about how 'to pretend not to care' is her strategy to get the limited edition badge that she wanted and how 'the desire sensor is real' which is so funny cause that mindset it's so relatable when it comes to gacha games and I'm sure I'm not the only lads player that has pretended 'Not to care' when it comes about pulling for our fav ahaha.

I love our MC, she's badass but at the same so sweet and goofy too, she's also not perfect but she's definitely endearing and it's that human touch that makes it easier for me to relate to her, sometimes I want to smooch her and cuddle her too! I'm not that much into polyamory dynamics even in fiction, like even when it comes to Lads I mainly focus on Zayne but I wouldn't mind being sandwiched between MC and Zayne ahaha.

#love and deepspace #mc love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace

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monty-glasses-roxy · 13 days ago

Note

I want to send Monty a collection of sunglasses in various colors and shapes. Let him have a bit of variety.

For the second time today, you dig through your backpack for a gift to give. What will this one be? You hope it’s a good one like the last pair. After what feels like an age, your paw lands on something. You eagerly pull it from the backpack to give it a good look over and read the tag. It was a present wrapped in green polka dotted paper, a sticker on one side of the ambiguous shape with the name Montgomery Gator written on it, the whole thing decorated in stickers. You check your database for the animatronic in question and start to make your way up the steps in front of the daycare, towards the security door you hoped would lead directly to the atrium.

The door opened without question for you and you stepped right through, once again wondering when you were going to run into the security around here. You always do eventually… or at least you always do when the location has security to run into. You shake off the thought as you take in the atrium for the first time from the walkways.

This place is huge! You can’t help but gawk at all the lights and colours in awe. There was just so much to look at, you struggled to find a place to start!

Strangely enough, you end up starting at the scaffolding and white covers over the attraction at the opposite corner to where you’re standing. What’s that about? Fazerblast next door and Bonnie Bowl next door but upstairs looked fine though. Your curiosity almost got the better of you but you shook yourself out of the desire to explore over there for now. You turn your gaze determinedly towards the attraction directly to your left, all green and full of fake plants of the jungle variety. Do alligators live in jungles? You’re not so sure… but then again, Fazerblast is clearly themed on space and bears aren’t aliens so you wouldn’t be too surprised if Fazbear got it wrong.

Or at least… you’re pretty sure that bears aren’t aliens. They’re not aliens… Are they?

It takes you more effort than you’d care to admit to break out of that train of thought and get back on track. You have a job to do! You can’t keep getting distracted!

With that in mind, you march onwards towards Gator Golf.

Eyeing the golf ball ride as you pass, you continue on until you find yourself standing in the attraction itself. There was even more fake foliage in here, with mini golf greens marking a path throughout the place and an alligator ride still chugging along far overhead. How in the world are you going to find Monty in here?

You wander along the path of greens, passed holes and bunkers and mechanical alligator heads jumping out of the water, passed the huge stage, around the game hazards and under the giant bucket. It takes you a while before you finally spot him. At first, you thought it was just another cool prop, but as you drew closer, you realised that the green and red thing in the water was the real thing.

And that you’d walked passed him at least three times.

He was just floating there. Belly down and snout just above the water line, his tail acting like an anchor. With the star shaped glasses on his face, you couldn’t tell if he was watching you or not.

You whistle to draw his attention but he doesn’t respond. He just carries on floating. You whistle a little louder, but still no response. You try once more, as loud as you possibly can, and still nothing. Maybe he lacks audio sensors? He wouldn’t be the only one after all…

Leaning in closer, you wave at him instead, hoping his eyes are open under those glasses. You lean over the barrier some more as he seems to drift lazily towards you with the water current. Your frantic waving has no effect. You keep trying, wondering if you could drop something on his head to get his attention as he drifts closer to you. You’re about to leave to try that-

Splash!

In a blind flurry of motion, Monty suddenly launched up from the water. He snapped his jaws. You leapt backwards, teeth missing you by an inch. You stare, wide eyed from the floor at the figure now hanging over the railings from the opposite side. Monty laughs, almost cackling at your misfortune, completely unbothered by the water dripping from his every limb. He nudges his now decidedly stupid glasses up his snout as you huff and pick yourself up off the floor. You brush yourself off as he continues to laugh.

“Damn, I gotcha good, lil’ guy!” Yeah, no kidding. This must be the Pizzaplex’s resident funny man without the funny. You’re pretty sure every Fazbear location has one of these goofballs. “Who are ya anyway? Not seen you ‘round here before. You new?” You shake your head and insistently pat the badge you proudly display on your chest. He raises his glasses and an eyebrow at it, studying it for a few long moments before muttering a ‘huh.’ You give him a second to process, wondering if he knew what your badge meant or not. He perked up as the realisation seemed to hit him and his eyes fell straight to the green package at your feet. He should consider himself lucky it’s not soaked…

“Ya got somethin’ for me?!” Monty’s eyes almost sparkled with surprise and excitement and the second you nodded, he dragged himself over the railings so fast you’re surprised he didn’t break anything. “Really?!” You nod, stepping back a bit so as not to get dripped on as he towered over you. Safe from the rain, you stand up straight, puff out your chest and present the gift to him, holding it up as high as you can. He gasped, jaw dropping a little as he stared at the present in awe.

It took him a while to gently lift it out of your grasp and sit himself on the floor with a ground-shaking thud. His tail wrapped around himself, his legs crossed and his eyes never left the little green bundle in his hands. You wave your paws to it to urge him to open it, hoping he does so before the water soaks through too much of the paper. You don’t know what’s in it, but the last thing anyone wants is for him to ruin it like this…

He pays you no mind, taking his time to deliberate it for a good while longer before taking his claws to it. He drags them lightly down the side, cutting paper and stickers alike, but never harming what lies beneath in an impressive display of precision and control. The paper tears away with ease, falling to the floor in surprisingly clean strips and gradually revealing the container within. It didn’t give much away, with no markings to speak of and no labels to describe the contents. With the lid opening towards you, all you could do was wait until Monty showed you to see what it was.

“Oh hell yeah!” A grin split his face like lightning as he beheld it, wasting no time in lifting them up to try them on. He swapped the star glasses already on his face with a blue pair with lenses shaped like the moon, “whaddya think?” You think for a moment before nodding and offering a thumbs up at his goofy smile. “HAHA!” He cheers before swapping the moon glasses for silver clouds with little lightning bolts dangling from them. You mouth an ‘oh’ and nod more enthusiastically. He sniggers with mischievous glee as he digs through the box for the next pair of glasses that catch his eye. The next pair replaces the old, this time shaped like bolts of fire.

“Heh, bet Rox would love these!” You had to agree these ones were pretty cool… what else does he have though? Peeking around the edge of the box, your vision suddenly turns purple and you almost lose your balance from how roughly the glasses were shoved onto your face. You blink a few times as you adjust them with your paws, taking a good look in the mirror on the underside of the box’s lid to find that they’re shaped like paw prints. A smile makes itself known and it only grows as you turn to find Monty grinning goofily at you with red lightning bolt glasses that barely covered his eyes at all. You can’t help but quietly giggle too and before you know it, you and Monty have spent at least an hour trying out his new collection of coloured shades.

He must have had every shape you’ve ever seen in that box! Love hearts, diamonds, rabbits, apples, flowers, feathers, and heck he even had a pair shaped like fish! And of course, Monty had set aside a pair or two he thought would suit each of his friends, often commenting how much Bonnie would have loved this. It was perhaps the only time his cheer was dampened throughout your time with him. What was up with that…?

Well, it was none of your business anyway. If he didn’t want to say, then he didn’t want to say. Who are you to pry? Instead, you would choose another pair of glasses at random and offer them up to him, managing to bring his attention back to the positives as much you could.

As you’re about to take your leave and return to your important job, you place the glasses you were just wearing softly back into their box. You turn to leave, ready to wave goodbye as you go when your arm is suddenly grabbed and you’re pulled back a few steps. Your vision turns purple as the pair of paw print glasses is plonked right back onto your nose.

“Hold onto these ones for me, will ya?” He lets go of you and starts making a mess of the glasses in the box, acting like the lid won’t fit. “Can’t get ‘em all back in so you might as well have ‘em.” He winks behind Saturn-shaped lenses and a good natured, toothy smirk. You’re surprised for a moment, but gradually, a happy smile replaces your round eyes and open jaw. You clasp your paws together and nod your thanks. Your hair is ruffled with a light chuckle in return before he nudges you back the way you were going before he stopped you.

“C’ya later, yeah?” You nod again with enthusiasm, readjust your backpack and wave goodbye as you head on out. He waves back, and just as you’re about to turn a corner and out of his sight, you hear him call out, “you better watch out for alligators next time, lil guy!” You snigger and poke your head back around the corner to give him a thumbs up before you leave.

You make your way back through the jungle foliage and back into the Gator Golf section of the atrium, coming to a stop beside the golf ball themed ride to once again slide your backpack from your shoulders onto the floor. The glasses slip a little as you look down at the bag and you can’t help the smile as you push them back up your nose. It’s not very often you get a gift as well, but it leaves you feeling warm and fuzzy inside every single time…

Sticking your paw into the bag, you can’t wait to show the next person your new glasses. You wonder who you’ll be going to see next...

#pop rox writes #fnaf security breach #montgomery gator #pop rox answers #fly's new years game #sorry this took forever I been dealing with shit. but ya know I DID say this would run till Jan/Feb time so I'm TECHNICALLY not late lmao #first time for everything right? right. anyway. this was fun. I'm a little rusty on writing these guys but it's fun anyway #thankee for playing my lil game!#long post

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