To send a message

The Satellite Array was, at this time of night, an extremely lonely place. It was lonely during the day, too, but the darkness that surrounded it made the lack of other buildings in the area that much more obvious.

The lone white car pulled up into the parking lot and brought itself to a halt. Opening the door, Cynthia stepped out a little proud of herself. Learning how to drive a human vehicle using its host memories was an interesting experience for the infiltrator, but absorbing its host’s consciousness was very helpful. It had driven the whole way here without a single incident.

It checked its appearance in the car mirror again, lightly feeling its borrowed face. The red-haired alien disguise was truly flawless, just as it—just as she—had expected. No evidence of her possession just an hour before could be seen anywhere on her pale skin. Cynthia felt her breasts as well, which were much larger than the infiltrator was used to. She’d been in females before, but human boobs (that was what they called them?) were pleasantly shaped and sized. Cynthia shook her head a little, deciding to head off into the building before she became too distracted by her current form.

Just as its outward appearance suggested, the offices of the astronomic project were deserted. A few lights remained on here and there, but all was otherwise silent but for the hum of machinery. Inside was several pieces of machinery, computers and server towers used to house data. Cynthia strode in, knowing exactly where she was headed. She made straight for a terminal in the center-left of the room and sat down at it.

“Such pitiful technology.” Cynthia remarked, adjusting her glasses as she began to type. “Now I know why the Infiltration Agency thought only I was necessary.” She input a command to the mainframe, a string of code the old Cynthia did not recognize and wouldn’t know how to create. The Satellite Array was mostly used to uplink with comms satellites in orbit and direct them to hopefully receive messages. Now it was being used to send one.

“I guess I finally found alien life after all.” The redhead giggled to herself. She watched on the screen as her message was sent. It wasn’t in any code a human could understand of course, but the Agency would know what it meant. ‘INFILTRATION SUCCESSFUL. WILL CONTACT WHEN CONQUEST PREPARED.’

Cynthia leaned back a little, thinking on how to proceed. Now that the Agency was informed, the natural next step would be to gather further intel. The redhead knew little of the inner workings of the government, that was clear. She therefore needed to either find herself an upgrade, or make a clone and find a suitable host for it.

“Making a clone…” Cynthia thought aloud. That would mean reproduction. Reproduction with the host species…

Memories entered her mind. Memories of embracing a man, of her hands on his firm chest as he entered her, feeling his hot member slide in and out of her…

Cynthia gasped a little, and looked down to see her hand down her pants. Her human muscle memory must have taken hold. And this was… masturbation. Something she was very familiar with. But she had better things to do, didn’t she? A planet to topple? Governments to seize? Bodies to take?

“Mmmhh, fuck it.” She whispered, giving into her urges and pulling down her pants. The Empire could wait an evening. Cynthia’s memoires guided her as she began to fingerfuck herself, telling the infiltrator every point to press. She was instantly awash with sensation, the electricity of pleasure rewarding her for each of her fingers’ movements. The possessed redhead continued to debase herself on the chair, thinking of the few men she’d fucked over the years. She wanted that, to be pounded over and over again, to experience the sheer animalistic joy of copulation. She suddenly began to approach a peak…

…and then dove over it. The infiltrator had experienced sexual pleasure in a host species before, but nothing like the **** sensation that now rocked its stolen skin. Cynthia cried out as she came, the thunderous pleasure of a human woman overwhelming her all at once. It was a while before the sheer ecstasy of it all finally left her body, and she regained control of her senses.

“Holy fuck!” Was all she could exclaim. If this was how humans felt when they reproduced, she was going to need to do a lot of reproducing. She brushed aside a few strands of red hair, and pushed up her glasses again with a pussy-juice-covered hand.

The astronomer thought about the things she would need to do by the time morning came, and knew she’d have a lot of work to do. Sooner or later she'd have to decide what she wanted to do next, but that could wait a few more hours--because Cynthia’s memories told her women could experience multiple orgasms in a row. The possessed woman giggled again, and returned to masturbating.

Being a human was going to be fun.