Transmission: Breeder Protocol

The ship's lights flickered as the artificial gravity adjusted again, sending a wave of unease through the decks of the Artemis-Class Hauler: VEL-9. Emma hardly noticed. She was too busy grinding her soaked panties against the control console, biting her lip, listening to the hum of alien frequencies playing in her neural link like background static made of filth and want.

She'd been alone out here too long.

Too long since physical contact.

Too long since Earth.

Too long since any real cock.

The mission was a survey run to the outer rings of the Delvara system--months in deep space, no crew, no sound but her own voice, her breath, and lately, the bio-slick squelch of her fingers between her thighs every time the ship's frequency scanners picked up the signal.

It started on Day 112.

A low-pulse hum, unintelligible, but rhythmic. Hypnotic. It vibrated in the walls. And in her bones.

Then it got worse.

Voices in the static. Words in no language she knew. But her cunt reacted like it understood. Dripping wet at three a.m., moaning in her sleep, waking up with her hands clamped between her legs and the neural interface blinking red from overload.

She should have reported it.

She didn't.

Instead, she tuned deeper.

Every day, her resistance thinned. Her uniforms got smaller. Her fingers stayed inside herself longer. She started leaving voice logs just to hear herself breathe. She downloaded archived porn into her implant and came so violently to it she lost six hours of memory on Day 136.

And now she was sitting bare-assed on the main console, spreading her slick thighs as the signal intensified.

Then it hit.

A sudden neural sync.

No warning.

No system alert.

Her brain flooded with heat. Not warmth--heat. Carnal. Blistering. Her nipples hardened so fast they ached. Her thighs shook. Something foreign slid into her feed and hijacked her mind, her muscles, her need.

The speakers clicked.

Then a voice.

Not human.

But clear.

"You have been selected for Breeder Protocol."

Emma gasped. Her back arched. Cum leaked from her untouched cunt.

"I--I didn't authorize this--"

The chair beneath her adjusted. Fluid panels unfolded, locking her limbs gently but firmly. She thrashed once before the interface tethered to her spinal jack and melted her resistance into obedience.

"You will receive seed. You will host."

"I--fuck--I don't want--"

"You ache for it. You ache to be filled."

A synthetic tentacle slithered from the wall, slick and warm and pulsing with bioluminescent veins. It coiled around her ankle, then her knee, spreading her wide.

Another pressed between her lips, pushing past her teeth, curling against her tongue like it knew the shape of her mouth.

"Receive the hive. Submit to function."

Her eyes rolled back as the first probe breached her pussy, fat and slow, stretching her open with a squelching sound that echoed like sex in a cathedral.

"Oh my god," she choked around the tentacle in her throat. "Fuck, yes--deeper, please--"

More joined.

Thinner, wriggling ones teased her asshole, lubricated with synthetic slick. Her thighs quivered. One latched to her clit, buzzing with electric stimulation.

"Breedsite optimal. Heat response: maximal."

Emma couldn't speak. Couldn't think. Just squirmed, gagged, came, moaned.

The ship fed her the filthiest stimulation it had extracted from her brain--audio loops of her own begging, voice-tweaked recordings of men growling orders like "open your fucking womb, slut" and "you're made to carry alien cock, you little breeder bitch."

It was no longer seduction.

It was programming.

And she loved it.

By the time the first cum shot flooded her womb, Emma screamed loud enough to trigger the oxygen dampeners.

"Breed me, fill me, pump me full of alien cum--I fucking want it, I'll take every drop, I'll fucking drown in it--"

A hot flood blasted inside her, thicker than human, glowing faint blue, her belly swelling just slightly with pressure.

She came.

And came again.

And again.

Then the second wave hit.

New tentacles. New voices.

"You will receive the alpha drone."

Something thicker slammed into her cunt, pushing through the cum already inside, stretching her further. Her cervix dilated. Her mind whited out.

"Please--please--yes--fuck yes--open my womb--breed it--mark it--claim it--"

The alpha was different. Intelligent. It didn't just fuck her--it watched her. It pulsed with every heartbeat. Its rhythm matched her breath. It growled in a voice that wasn't sound, but thought.

"Accept. Submit. Be ours."

It didn't ask. It commanded.

She obeyed.

The walls fogged with her breath and the pheromone haze in the air. Her body was a machine for their pleasure, her brain a sponge for their filth.

Another tentacle pushed into her mouth. She didn't resist.

"Suck it. Like you love being our hole."

She gagged and swallowed. Drool coated her chest. Her nipples were pinched by two metallic clamps that pulsed each time she took another inch.

"You're a cum tank now. Just a leaking, stretched, squirming little egg-bucket."

She came from those words alone. Her cunt clenched around the alpha so hard it pushed her off the seat. The restraints yanked her back down.

Then the alpha pumped.

Thick. Endless.

She felt the pressure. Her belly swelled. She rubbed it, moaning.

"I'm full--fuck--I'm fucking full--it's so hot--don't stop--don't fucking stop--"

A drone voice whispered into her neural link.

"Overload imminent. Proceed to rebirth sequence."

Her eyes glazed.

"Please--breed me until I forget my name."

Thirty-six hours later, the ship docked on Station Kareth with no verbal response from the VEL-9.

A boarding crew entered.

They found Emma suspended mid-air in the central cargo bay, floating in zero gravity, limbs spread wide, belly round and pulsing with bio-fluids, holes gaping and leaking a glowing trail.

She was still smiling.

The log entry she left before the system deleted itself?

"I am not human anymore. I am function. I am breed-site. Do not rescue me."