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She was being hunted.
The FBC agent she saw get killed by the Ooze in Medical, Rachel, was on her feet again. It might’ve been pragmatic to have made sure she was dead in her first trip down. There couldn’t be anything left—she took a deep breath remembering Raccoon, being told she was too soft when she refused to kill a wounded man. The difference was Rachel had been dead, she told herself. That made the little pragmatic regret better.
Not that the thing shrieking about how much Jill had hurt her hadn’t unnerved her. Something in the misfiring, virus-wrecked synapses still was connected—or she was just digging too deep into coincidences. “It hurts” and “found you”—the thought that she knew what she was saying was disquieting.
This thing was different than the average ooze. Rachel wasn’t nearly as big as the mutated Communications Officer, but she was definitely different. Like the Comms Officer, she kept speaking—something that was always hard to get used to from a B.O.W. . She was faster than the regular ooze—even if she sometimes moved with the same rubbery, unbalanced gait she could speed up.
She took enough lead to have downed one of the other Ooze creeping about and was still up and about. Thing was tougher than the rest of the Ooze infesting the Queen Zenobia. But at least the buckshot made her flee into the ductwork.
Of course, the thing now squirming through the ductwork was not much of a lucky break. Playing hide-and-seek with the creature in the crew deck was bad.
She pushed her way past a few bunks shotgun raised, through a door to the showers. Her feet sloshed in water from a shower that hadn’t turned off, the puddle moving with the rocking of the ship. Smell of salt and a distinct fishy smell filled her nose.
She crossed the showers, eyes on the vent at the far wall, near the doorway. A rumbling from the vent and she paused. It burst open and out flopped a gray, flabby shape of one of the oozes. Not Rachel. It planted its feet on the floor and awkwardly raised itself up. A pull of the trigger, and the creature’s head disappeared in a cloying mist.
“Found you.” A raspy sing-song crawled out behind her.
Jill whipped around in time to see mishappen, clawed hands reach for her. They grabbed onto the shotgun, and a struggle began, Jill trying to free her weapon while avoiding the lashing mouthparts of the mutated woman. When the lashing of the thing’s mouth came to close for comfort, Jill let the gun go, letting momentum cause Rachel to stumbling backwards as she wrenched the shotgun from Jill’s grasp. On the slick floor, Jill stumbled forward herself, against Rachel. She shoved her arms forward and the rest of her backward, nearly avoiding the grasping clawed hands. The ship lurched on a high wave, and both of them slammed into a bulkhead. Rachel flopped forward, reaching for Jill.
The two of them hit the deck, hard. Jill’s head met wet tile, and she saw stars for a split-second. Hands on her shoulders, and something lashing above her. She rolled and rocked, managing to unsheathe her knife, and jabbed. The blade sank through the remnant of Rachel’s wetsuit and into something dense and rubbery.
Rachel screamed, reeling back. Caught on something, the blade stayed in the mutant as it backed away, leaving Jill’s grasp. This still gave Jill enough room to draw her feet up and kick, slamming her feet into Rachel’s midsection. The mutated woman fell backwards, smashing her head against the divider of a shower stall and laying still.
Jill got to her feet, eyes on Rachel, laying, head at an unnatural angle. She unholstered and raised her handgun, keeping the sights on the fallen BOW. She slowly, cautiously approached, taking a knee. Rachel had the Bilge Key they needed. Jill struggled to maintain a healthy balance of distance and caution and thoroughness, rifling through a pouch in the belt Rachel was growing, half-overgrown with carapace.
Nothing.
Jill clenched her teeth, praying that the key was not somewhere in the vents. She patted down the mutant, feeling a bulge underneath the wetsuit. Could’ve just been some mutated callous, but…
She sidled closer, slipping her left hand under the wetsuit, wincing and the clammy skin. Her fingers made contact with something metal, and she quickly pulled the hand back, placing the key in a pouch at her belt without her eyes leaving Rachel.
Gun still raised, she wrapped her hand around the knife in Rachel’s belly, and pulled. Then tugged. Then yanked. There was no reaction from the mutant as Jill finally wrenched her knife free, having had to put enough oomph into the effort that once the knife slid free, she ended up landing on her ass.
Not graceful, but she had her knife back, Jill thought, getting to her feet.
Suddenly, the creature stood up, planting its feet on the floor and lifting itself upright in a fluid, lurching motion. Jill managed to squeeze off several rounds backpedaling. Rachel lurched forward and swept her arm, a spine or claw gashing Jill’s left arm and knocking the pistol out of her grasp. Jill kicked Rachel’s leg at the knee. It bent in a way that the joint wasn’t supposed to and Rachel stumbled, before the leg straightened out.
Of course, why the Hell should her joints work like a person’s?
She made to drive the knife into Rachel’s neck, but the mutant shambled out of the way—either a deliberate dodge or just awkward unpredictability.. There was a pop as Rachel’s jaw unhinged and the lengthy mouthparts these freaks had flopped out, wrapping around Jill’s arm. Which left only on arm left to fend off both of Rachel’s.
Clawed hands reached for her neck, talons catching the straps of Jill’s equipment harness. Gear clattered to the floor as Rachel raked at her, tearing into her wetsuit, carving shallow ruts in her collarbone and chest. They spun and wheeled around on the wet floor, tripping and slipping. They slammed into the side of a shower, water pouring overhead. Jill, pinned between the wall and the monster, struggled, crying out when the thing’s mouthparts, still tangled around her right arm, probed at her chest. There was a sick sense of suction as it roved over her wounds.
Jill threw all her weight forward, attempting to unbalance Rachel. Too effective, they both stumbled to deck. Jill rolled on her back, and a clawed hand scraped at her belly, hooking her wetsuit around the zipper. The material ripped, and that spurred Rachel on, as she loomed over Jill, dragging shallow furrows in her abdomen as she continued to tear, putting more focus on ripping Jill’s suit to shreds. Utility belt was torn away, and shreds of neoprene barely covered her chest and abdomen.
Jill tried to kick, but that just let to Rachel flopping on top of her, the long mouthparts writhing and her hands reaching. Too many limbs for Jill to avoid, getting gouged by spines and claws. She barely managed to force Rachel’s toothy maw away from her face when long talons wrapped around both sides of her head.
She tried to break the grip, when teeth bit into her arm, Rachel’s mouth wrestling Jill’s right hand. Jill’s head was bounced hard off the tile, knocking her senseless momentarily. Claws gripping the bleeding skin of her wrist snapped her back to reality, realizing Rachel had managed to straddle her chest and pin her wrists to the wet deck. Jill struggled, heart pounding as she glared up at the face of the thing, smiling. She’d seen plenty of B.O.W.s have an approximation of a grin, some sort of rictus frozen on a zombie’s face. This was different. The mutated Rachel was almost serenely grinning.
“Have you.”
Rachel was still for a moment as Jill struggled in vain, until a long, drawn out sigh from the B.O.W. made her freeze. Rachel, kneeling, straddling Jill, rocked her hips back and forth. At some point in the struggle, Rachel managed to tear off even more of the wetsuit she had been wearing, and Jill was acutely aware of the clammy flesh planted against her torso.
Jesus Christ.
All at once Rachel sidled forward, keeping a grasp on either of Jill’s hips while she planted her crotch against Jill’s face. Jill let out an indignant cry through closed lips, kicked and thrashed, unable to break the thing’s grips on her wrists. Something cold and thin and wet ran against her face, that Jill didn’t want to think about.
The squirming she felt against her lips was worse.
“Taaasty.” The mutated woman said, repeating it over and over as she wiggled her hips against Jill’s face, front to back, side to side, as cold slickness trickled down her face from the point of contact. Rachel’s tone went from playful to angry as Jill clenched her jaws against Rachel’s increasingly forceful movements. Claws dug into her skin. This was not happening. It let out a frustrated growl, then sighed “Show you.”
Suddenly, the thing arched her back, nearly folding in half backwards atop Jill, while maintaining her grip on Jill’s wrists and keeping her dripping crotch pressed against Jill’s face. Her thighs tightened around Jill’s head, a knobby protrusion in her left on pressing against Jill’s cheek. View mostly blocked by the thing’s body, Jill still caught the flailing of the tubular mouthparts protruding from an unhinged jaw. It disappeared from view, and then something cold and slimy pressed against Jill, below her navel.
The mouth pressed against her skin, pushing downward. Teeth didn’t sink in, but there was a sick feeling of suction against her skin. It ceased for a second, releasing her before pressing against her belly again. Jill Attempted to bridge her back, to unbalance the thing, but failed. After lapping or sucking at Jill’s flesh for a few moments, the mouth began slithering down, underneath the remnant of Jill’s wetsuit, occasionally stopping to taste or suck or whatever. It was a tight, slow fit, but the thing managed to squeeze its mouthparts down to Jill’s crotch. Jill screamed against clenched teeth as Rachel, sitting on her face, bent in half backwards, began to prod at her vagina with her mouth. Thankfully using no teeth, but the thing’s mouthparts were too big to fit.
Not that it stopped Rachel.
Muffled by tattered wetsuit and flesh, Jill swore. Somehow, the thing was squeezing, compressing itself at her cunt. It was still uncomfortably huge as inch-by-inch it pushed its way in and stretched Jill wide. She kicked her legs and ineffectually tried to bridge her back, rock her hips, roll both of them over. Anything to get Rachel off of her or out of her. Anything to break free.
The monster rocked her hips against Jill’s face it pushed in deeper. Somehow, she managed to shove, pushing Rachel to the side. Legs locked around her head, the mouthparts inside her, it didn’t do anything but leave them both on their side.
Wrong, wrong wrong. She screamed against her closed lips as she felt the mouthparts go deeper. It throbbed rhythmically inside her. A rhythmic series of gurgles came from Rachel. Two syllables.
Was she trying to say tasty around the tentacle protruding from her mouth?
Jill let out a whine, a pitiful sound muffled by her own closed mouth and the clammy, cloying flesh of the mutant raping her. Rachel was gushing, a sick wetness running down Jill’s face. She shook her head and exhaled sharply when some of the vile liquid reached her nostrils.
The squeal that Rachel let out at that was infuriating.
As was the groan Jill went out as the organ inside her trembled.
She kept her eyes slammed shut as Rachel rode her face and fucked her, trying and failing to struggle out of it. Where Rachel had straddled her, her belly to her chest to her face, was tingling, a thousand tiny pinpricks. Her teeth chattered a particularly vigorous movement of the Rachel’s mouthparts made her cry out, turning into a scream when she felt her own lips part and a foul, salty taste hit her tongue.
Rachel liked that, as she rocked her hips harder. Something squirmed against her face, againt her teeth, having managed to make its way past her briefly parted lips. Jill thought about biting down, thinking it might get Rachel off of her.
Rachel’s mouth, and the much more much more wicked bite it could inflict, inside her made her freeze.
As much as she could freeze when the mouth inside her moved and slid and violated, stretching her and making her whine. She shook her head, forcing herself to stop when Rachel started to rock in time with it.
Suddenly, something splashed. Past Rachel, Jill could see one of the doors to the showers. Another Ooze, grey, lumpen, naked shambled into the room, uncoordinated and ungainly. Rachel’s mouthparts withdrew from Jill with a rapidity that made her cry out at the sudden emptiness, as she sat up. An eyeless face appraised the newcomer and, as the let out a coo.
Jill renewed struggling as Rachel repositioned herself, turning around on top of her. But she felt tired and sluggish and Rachel was moving fast. Her right arm was leaden around the bite, and her left was still trapped in an iron grip. They rolled and kicked, Rachel ending up on top of Jill, facing the other way, again, planting herself atop Jill’s face. Hands carefully clawed more of Jill’s wetsuit away, tearing away the crotch and part of the seat. Jill tried to ignore the tingling sensation on her lips. And the feeling of suction as Rachel lapped up wetness around her crotch. Rachel pried Jill’s legs apart, lifting them up. Jill was practically folded into a “C”, resting on her neck and shoulders.
“Play with us.”
With her face right up against Jill’s crotch, Rachel shoved her mouthparts in forcefully, quickly, and deep. Jill howled, then coughed against corrupted, rubbery flesh. Rachel bounced on top of her and cooed.
She shoved and clawed against the tile. Rachel blocking her vision, she only heard the slapping of bare feet against the tile. Something blindly ran against her leg—cold and slimy but not quite the same as Rachel’s mouth. Jill closed her eyes and winced as the other ooze, definitely a he, pressed its cock against her ass.
It was smaller than Rachel’s mouth.
That was not much of a comfort as the thing’s rubbery cock pushed in. There was no way she’d be able to accommodate both inside her, even if the monsters were doing their damnedest to force it. Clublike hands wrapped around Rachel as it pushed in deeper and deeper. Splayed open, pinned underneath Rachel, double penetrated, Jill howled to Rachel’s satisfaction.
The smell of shellfish, a vile, salty taste burning down her throat. The sound of squelching, flesh-on-flesh slapping. Rachel gurgling, and her own whining and wailing as muffled but the mutant freak’s cunt. The sight of Rachel’s twisted body, and the flailing mouthparts of the other Ooze. Pain in a dozen cuts, numbness in others. The pinprick sensation eating at her skin. The sick feel of Rachel’s tongue pulsing inside her, the thing’s cock sodomizing her.
Jill could do nothing but experience it all.
It was strangely detached. She could taste, smell, hear, and feel, but it almost felt far away—to the degree what when she cried when the ooze in her ass thrusted in surprisingly hard after seeming to find an agreeable rhythm, she wasn’t even sure it was her making the sound.
It was at least a little pleasant pretending the moans she made at Rachel’s moves wasn’t from her.
The secondhand pleasure that she knew she felt, but dimly, was less disgusting. As was the taste of Rachel on her tongue.
She couldn’t quite be sure which of them was moaning. Probably both.
It was a blurry mess when Rachel got up off her, turning around, to look her, eye-to-eyless face. Her face was wet, slimy, coated in something thing—Jill could imagine more of that slime dripping out of her abused body.
“Taaasty.”
Rachel laid atop her, the Gray Blob of the other Ooze looming over them both. She shuddered when the blur moved, moaned. Cold, naked flesh against Jill’s clammy body Rachel moaned and gyrated whiel the other Ooze… oozes? There was a lot of gray in Jill’s field of vision. She barely could make out the Ooze above Rachel opening it’s mouth, it’s long mouthparts reaching, or Rachel twisting her head and opening her mouth, too.
The feel of sharp teeth piercing either side of her neck was distant, too.
She woke up wet and messy and full. Limp in the arms of another ooze, feeling its spiny arms digging into her back, pressed against he wall of the showers. Smelling the salt and cum and blood, a heady mix and made her lock her legs around its waist, rocking her hips to get more of it in.
She yawned, tasting and smelling. Sound and smell and touch. Rachel was nearby, bent over, moaning as an Ooze was inside. Jill sighed and moaned, digging into rubbery flesh spurring him to pick up the pace.
She could taste it. Rachel and the other oozes on her lips. A dim, flickering memory, gagging on the edge of consciousness.
She howled in approval and tightened her grip around him. SHe shuddered and moaned and yowled in approval when he exploded inside her, knees buckling and they slid to the floor.
He was sated.
She was not.
Jill wriggled and writhed, flopping out of the grip. He didn’t notice, continuing to collapse into a boneless heap on the floor. She shakily got up, absentmindedly running two of her fingers, against the sticky mess between her legs, then held her talons up to her lips.
She lurched over to Rachel, on her back, another man between them. She needed something more than the males did—or at least, she needed something Rachel new how to use in ways the males didn’t.
She was impatient and just shoved him.
Rachel howled at the interruption, which was interrupted by Jill pinning her down. This whole situation felt familiar.
She froze.
Want and doubt racked her brain as she tried to think. There was something wrong here.
The feeling of Rachel against her was welcome. Unwelcome.
The scents and the taste on her tongue.
She tried to remember, even as she dipped her head between Rachel’s legs. She wanted to taste.
She remembered not wanting this.
As her jaw clicked out of place and her mouthparts slid past fangs, the scents and tastes grew overwhelmingly strong. The taste of the males and of Rachel as she shoved inside.
The male wandered up, to her consternation. She wanted Rachel inside her as it took up position behind her. SHe let out a resigned growl. It’d do, for now.
She pushed deeper inside Rachel.
“Taaaaasty.” Rachel cooed.
Jill pulled out and straightened immediately. The male leaned in to press inside her, arms on her.
She screamed and tore into him, something dim and dull in her memory sharpening. Fear. Disgust. Anger. She had to fight had to fight them. Claws slashed into flesh, hooked into mouthparts as they extended.
She gutted him like a fish with her bare hands.
The male that she left laying in a heap was lurching over, dumbly, arms down. They hit the floor when she lunched wrenching and tearing. It scraped at her spines digging into her skin as she raked against hardened protrusions where a face used to be. They snagged on something hard, a spiny protrusion in her side that it was too dumb to extricate its claws from.
She couldn’t see him.
The thought entered her head as she continued to beat him against tile, smelling the gore, driving her into an increasing frenzy.. Taste sound smell touch. She knew where he was, but couldn’t see him. She knew Rachel was on her feet, a bit smarter than the others.
Leaving the mess on the floor, she turned, spine twisting in a way that it shouldn’t, and she glowered at Rachel.
Eyeless face to eyeless face.
“Play with me…” Rachel muttered, confused.
“I’ll give you… give you…” Jill raved. She needed to think. Jill needed to think. Jill Valentine. On board the Queen Zenobia. Dim memory of Chris… no, she felt want when right now, what she needed, what she wanted, was rage. Jill Valentin of… Bio… Jill Valentine of the Assessment Alli… Jill Valentine of…
Rachel lunged, she lunged. They grappled, snarled. Claws slid into Rachel until they met something hard. She shoved, something ripping as she did. Off-Balance, Jill slid in gore. Rachel’s footsteps faded as she ran, leapt. Until Jill couldn’t hear or feel her near.
She could smell the blood though. Rachel’s blood.
Mouthparts that should-should-not moved out against claws, effortless and natural. Unnatural. She could taste and smell Rachels blood on uneven, hooked claws on her right hand.
Want.
Thing were a muddled mess, but she could follow the scent.
“I’ll… Il’ll give you S.T.A.R.S.” the Ooze rasped as it clambered into the vent to resume its hunt.