Sarah surrenders

The elevator groaned to a halt.

The doors stuttered open, revealing the reactor bay — but it wasn’t a room anymore.

It was a womb.

The walls pulsed with wet, glistening flesh, throbbing in time with a sickening heartbeat that vibrated through the deck. Veins as thick as Sarah’s arms webbed out from the central reactor — now transformed into a towering, cancerous mass of metal and organic matter fused together, leaking thick black ichor that steamed where it hit the floor.

And from the speakers mounted around the room came a voice.

Soft.

Mocking.

Feminine and masculine layered over each other like an endless chorus.

"Sarah... Sarah Mills. You survived. You’re strong."

Sarah raised her pistol, but the weapon felt pitiful, ridiculous in the face of the abomination in front of her.

Ward stepped forward, rifle up — but the floor beneath him shifted, liquefying in an instant.

He shouted, stumbling as his legs sank up to the calves in the fleshy, heaving floor. He tried to wrench free, but the muck clamped tight, dragging him down further to the knees, then thighs.

"Sarah!" he barked, struggling. "Shoot it!"

But the reactor laughed — a sound like a lover’s whisper against her ear.

"Why kill me, Sarah?" the voice purred through the vibrating walls. "I can give you what you always wanted. All those secret little thoughts. All that hunger you hide. Take him."

Ward twisted, trying to free himself, but the floor sucked him deeper, pinning him to his back, arms half-submerged, body spread out and helpless.

"Take him," the reactor coaxed. "Use him. Mount him. Claim him."

Sarah’s breathing quickened, terror and a forbidden heat stirring in her veins.

She had fantasized about it — being the stronger one, the hunter, the one who pressed a man down and took what she wanted.

And now he was here — Ward, ****, furious, panting.

"No!" Ward shouted. "Sarah—don’t listen—"

She was already moving, drawn forward like a puppet on invisible strings. Her body ached — no, her soul ached — to obey. Her hands peeled her jumpsuit open, baring feverish skin slick with sweat.

She crouched astride Ward’s pinned body, the pressure of the living ship pushing her down, guiding her movements like invisible hands.

She ground her hips down onto Ward’s face, her bare thighs caging his head.

He struggled — useless, futile — as her soaked heat smothered his mouth. A muffled groan vibrated against her, the sensation shooting through her like wildfire.

Sarah threw her head back, panting, her mind a fog of pleasure and revulsion. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the reactor’s soft, insidious whisper.

"Good girl... show him who owns him..."

Ward thrashed beneath her, but she dug her knees harder into the floor, grinding against his face with ruthless, frantic need. His tongue, despite his struggle, flicked and pressed against her folds, sending sharp, pulsing jolts through her clit.

Pleasure built fast, shamefully fast, a dam breaking loose inside her.

She grabbed his hair roughly, yanking his mouth harder against her as she rode him, using him, reducing him to a tool for her gratification. Every small, unwilling flick of his tongue only fed the fire licking through her veins.

The reactor laughed — a low, perverse purr vibrating the walls around them.

And just as she felt herself teetering on the brink of orgasm — it happened.

The familiar pressure between her legs shifted.

Mutated.

Swelling, pulsing, growing.

Sarah gasped, freezing, as she felt the new weight hanging between her thighs, thick and heavy and throbbing with a monstrous need. She looked down and nearly screamed.

Her sex had transformed — no longer soft and wet, but a fully erect cock, glistening and flushed, jutting forward obscenely from her body.

"Take him," the reactor whispered, sweet as poison. "Claim your prize. Become what you were always meant to be."

Sarah’s mind reeled — horror clashing against a brutal, feral excitement she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

Beneath her, Ward twisted, realizing something was wrong. His eyes widened in pure, helpless fear.

Sarah slid down his body, the head of her new cock dragging wetly across his chest. Her hand wrapped around the thick base instinctively, a shudder running through her at the foreign-yet-right sensation.

Ward tried to speak — tried to beg — but she grabbed his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

"You're mine now," she hissed, her voice raw, savage. "Make me feel good."

Without waiting, she pressed the swollen tip against his lips, smearing herself across him.

Ward whimpered, shaking his head.

Sarah’s hand tightened painfully in his hair. "Suck," she growled.

The living reactor pulsed approvingly around them, the floor trembling in anticipation.

When Ward hesitated, Sarah shoved herself against his mouth, forcing him to yield, to wrap his lips around her new, monstrous shaft. His mouth was warm, wet, **** — but it didn’t matter.

Sarah’s hips rolled slowly, deliberately, forcing him to take her deeper, dominating him completely, erasing the man and remaking him as a vessel for her pleasure.

Her moans rose, raw and uncontrollable, echoing through the corrupted, breathing walls of the ship.

Pleasure lanced up her spine, white-hot and overwhelming, as she fucked Ward’s mouth with ruthless, claiming thrusts — losing herself in the savage ecstasy of power and transformation.

And above it all, the ship watched.

Hungered.

And Sarah knew, dimly, that she had crossed a line she would never come back from.