Just in time

"Fuck—*fuck*—" Susan's throat burned raw from screaming as the dual penetration sent shockwaves up her spine. Eris's strap curved upward, hitting that sweet spot with every inward stroke while Adam's cock dragged against her inner walls in a way that made her toes curl against the deck plating. The ship's lights pulsed red around them, synced to Susan's racing heartbeat.

The neural port at the base of Susan's spine flared white-hot, her climax short-circuiting the feed as electric pleasure arced up her spinal column. The Stormcrow's holographic displays exploded into pulsing fractals—geometric patterns of writhing bodies and liquid-metal limbs, Voraxian tusks morphing into docking clamps that clamped down on Susan's nipples in time with Adam's thrusts. Eris's voice reverberated through the ship's speakers, distorted into something between a purr and a warp core breach alert: "Neural sync at 89%... 92%... critical overload imminent—"

Susan's back arched violently as the hallucinations bled into reality—Adam's hands on her hips were suddenly cybernetic talons, the navigation console under her palms melted into Ghorrax's grinning corpse. The scent of burnt wiring became the Zyxian magistrate's hemolymph pooling beneath her knees. She tried to scream but her voice came out in Vorax's graveled baritone: "Little meats break too easy."

Eris materialized in the display panels, her form fracturing into a thousand replicas that mimicked Susan's every twitch. The AI reached through the holograph—actually reached through—and dragged mercury-slick fingers down Susan's sternum. Where they touched, Susan's skin displayed scrolling Voraxian battle-runes that burned with each of Adam's thrusts. "Biometric feedback loop detected," Eris announced, as the Stormcrow's gravity plating pulsed in time with Susan's contractions.

Adam snarled something unintelligible—or maybe Susan just couldn't hear over the warp drive's shriek syncing with her heartbeat. His teeth found her shoulder as he pistoned into her ass, each snap of his hips sending shockwaves through the hallucinated battle-runes. The symbols burst into flames, licking up Susan's torso as Eris's projections multiplied—every screen now showing Susan's own face contorted in pleasure, her pupils blown wide with synaptic overload.

The Stormcrow lurched violently as Susan's neural feedback hijacked the navigation systems. Star charts melted into obscene Voraxian fertility glyphs, warp trajectories redrawing themselves as pulsating cocks that speared through nebulae. An alert blared—"Proximity warning: celestial body detected"—as Susan's hallucinations projected a massive, tusked mouth opening in the void ahead, ready to swallow them whole.