Rollo woke up the way a body did after a week in the dryer: tumbled, stretched, pulled so taut his bones didn't recognize their own coordinates. The first thing he noticed was the noise. Not Kami, not the ship, not even his own shallow gasps, but the full-body siren of pain, pleasure, and confusion—raw and unfiltered, like being electrocuted by a fire alarm.
He couldn't move. Not because something pinned him, but because his body had locked itself into a fetal C, every muscle corded and soaked in fluids that were only maybe half his. The world kept slamming into him in bursts: pain, white; pleasure, blue; terror, black. In between, the ship's chamber flickered with pulses of biolight, splattering the ceiling in fractal veins.
He tried to breathe. The air stuck in his throat, clogged with the stench of sweat, sex, and the metallic tang of something more fundamental. His hands dug into the floor, nails bent, knuckles bloody from god knew what. He tried to uncurl, but every time he moved, a new sensation detonated in his spine. He screamed, high and unheroic.
The scream looped in his ears, echoing off the glasslike walls. His eyes wouldn't close, even when he told them to. So he watched—watched as his forearms pulsed under the skin, watched as the black veins from his tattoos fattened and turned a lurid violet, watched as the ink poured down his thighs and pooled at his hips, as if it was being drawn to his center of mass by some black hole.
His back seized, then bubbled, vertebrae spasming out of alignment and then knitting themselves together again, smoother, leaner, not quite human. He saw his reflection multiply in the wall panels: teeth bared, hair standing in clumped spikes, eyes too wide and too dark to be real.
He screamed again.
The pain broke, suddenly, leaving him hollow. He collapsed onto his side, cheek mashed against the cool glass. He could taste the salt and copper of his own blood. His heart skittered, skipped, then tripled its tempo, slamming against his ribs like it was trying to punch a way out.
He tried to stand. He couldn't. His arms and legs twitched, then stiffened, then went rubbery. He rolled onto his back, spent.
Above him, Kami was watching.
She stood in the periphery, arms folded across her chest, her blue-purple skin luminous in the aftermath of sex. Her hair glowed, almost neon, drifting upward as if the room was underwater. She wore nothing but a thin film of sweat and the leftovers of their last encounter.
Her expression was unreadable: part mad scientist, part cult leader, all predator.
She crouched down, hands on her knees, and stared at him for a long, thoughtful moment. Then she grinned, teeth flashing.
"Goddamn, baby," she said, running her tongue over her lips, "you're molting."
He wanted to tell her to go fuck herself, but all that came out was a weak, wet cough.
Kami moved in, close enough for him to see the alien pattern of veins on her neck, the way her pupils rippled with each breath. She sniffed him, nostrils flaring. "You're adapting fast. Never seen it take this quick outside the labs." She sounded impressed, but also a little disappointed, like she'd hoped he'd crack first.
Rollo tried to prop himself up on his elbows. His arms worked, but they didn't feel like his. The skin was paler than he remembered—less brown, more iridescent, like bruised milk. The tattoos had spread, not just ink now but raised, textured, crawling with electric blue at the edges. His hands were bigger. His fingers tapered, the knuckles sharp as knives. He flexed. They flexed back, perfectly in sync.
He noticed something else. The mohawk—his last piece of pride—had changed. The hair was longer now, shot through with bone-white streaks, the roots pure black but the ends so white it almost looked silver. He tried to run a hand through it. It felt thick and soft, like fur.
Kami brushed his cheek, fingers cool and careful. "Welcome to the fun part," she whispered, then leaned in and bit his lower lip, just enough to draw blood.
He winced. She licked the red away, purring.
That was when he realized his dick was still hard. Not just hard—throbbing, dual, the alien growth from before now fully present and accounted for. The main shaft looked mostly human, except for the blue veins running its length and the thickened head. Next to it, the new one: longer, smooth, glowing with a faint light, the tip slitted like some kind of predatory fish. Both hung heavy, side by side, twitching every time Kami touched him.
She ran a hand down his chest, palm crackling with static. When she reached his waist, she gripped both cocks in one hand and squeezed. Rollo nearly blacked out from the sensation—half pain, half pleasure, all overload.
Kami purred, "We're just getting started."
She mounted him again, but this time it was different—deliberate, ritualistic. She faced away from him, back arched, her ass perfectly positioned over his paired dicks. She lowered herself slowly, letting both slide inside her at the same time, perfectly aligned. The sensation was more than physical: it hit him in the brain first, a flash of pleasure so sharp it erased all other thoughts.
She started slow. Each time she bottomed out, he felt her muscles adjust, ripple, then clamp down, milking him for every twitch. The blue cock glowed brighter each time it entered her. Kami set the pace: grind, lift, slam, pause, flex. She used him like a toy, wringing every drop of sensation from his newly rewired body.
He couldn't help himself. His hands shot to her hips, fingers digging deep into the hard muscle. She laughed, head thrown back, white hair whipping around them both like static. The bed—or platform, or whatever it was—shook with each thrust, the whole room humming in time.
He moaned. He didn't mean to, but the sound escaped anyway—raw and desperate, like something sacred being stolen from him. Every time she pressed down, he felt himself being hollowed out and filled at the same time.
The system message blared in his mind, clear as a school bell:
[🔓 SYSTEM EXPANSION UNLOCKED]
[Trait: Dual-Core Penetration Enabled]
[+10 Shadow Affinity, +3 Telekinetic Flow, Kami Sync: 11%]
[Secondary Load Multiplier Active]
He felt it, all at once: the new skills coming online, the sudden rush of psychic energy under his skin. Shadows flickered around them, bending with each pulse. The lights in the ceiling cracked and stuttered, then flared in time with his heartbeat.
Kami didn't slow down. She looked over her shoulder, smiling with those predatory teeth. "You feel that?" she purred. "That's power. And you're only on your second load."
She bounced, slow and deep, letting the blue cock stretch her before sinking down to the root. Every time she lifted, his vision blurred; every time she slammed, the pleasure broke through his skull like a sledgehammer.
He felt his core start to burn. The seed in his guts boiled up, hotter and hotter. He tried to hold back, but Kami knew exactly how to ride it, how to clamp and tease until the pressure was unbearable.
"You're evolving," she gasped, voice thick with hunger. "Faster than anyone before you."
Rollo couldn't talk. Could barely see. The only thing he could do was fuck—fuck and be fucked and let the system burn every last part of him down to the root.
The tattoos on his chest and arms glowed with each thrust, the patterns shifting and flowing like living circuitry. His mohawk crackled, the white streaks shining in the half-light. His hands gripped Kami's hips so hard he thought he might break her, but she just leaned back and shoved down even harder, taking both cocks to the hilt.
"Don't stop," she hissed. "You're almost there."
He felt the edge, so close he could taste it. His whole body shook, muscles tensing, the world narrowing to the rhythm of sex and pain and transformation.
Then he heard it—just as he was about to explode—a scream. Not his, not Kami's, but something else, something outside the room, echoing through the ship's walls.
The sound was pure rage, cut with loss. It vibrated every panel, shattered the glass above, sent a ripple through the platform that nearly threw Kami off him.
He stared up at her, confused, dizzy. Kami didn't stop; she just ground down harder, eyes gone wide and wild.
The scream came again, closer. He recognized it now: a human voice, female, ruined by grief and anger.
The lights above shattered, raining sparks on the bed. Shadows bled up from the floor, licking at his legs.
Kami leaned back, hair floating, lips curled in a war-cry. "Ignore her," she growled. "You're mine now."
She slammed down, clamping both cocks so tight it felt like they were being squeezed by a vice made of sex and hate and alien hunger.
Rollo came, and the world went nuclear.
He shot, once, twice, then lost count. The blue cock spurted bioluminescent fluid, spraying in thick ropes that coated Kami's insides and spilled down her thighs. The main shaft pulsed, unloading a torrent of cum that hit her so hard she buckled and nearly collapsed forward.
He screamed, Kami screamed, and the other voice—the jealous, broken voice—screamed too, somewhere just beyond the wall.
The system message scrolled behind his eyelids, letters etched in lightning:
[OVERRIDE: DUAL CORE COMPLETE]
[SHADOW AFFINITY MAXED]
[KAMI SYNC: 22% AND CLIMBING]
He barely felt Kami pull off him. She spun around, gripped both cocks with her fists, and stroked them together until they both fired again, coating her hands and chest with luminous, steaming fluid.
She laughed, wild and feral, then leaned in and bit his shoulder, hard enough to make him see stars.
The scream outside was closer now, desperate.
"Who—?" Rollo managed, voice cracked and raw.
Kami licked the blood from her lips. "Old ghosts," she said. "Don't worry. They'll never touch you."
The wall to their left shimmered, then dissolved. A woman—a girl, maybe—stood there, naked except for a mesh of wires and black crystal bands that wrapped her limbs and throat. She was human, or had been, but her eyes were wrong: too wide, too white, the pupils spinning like loaded dice.
She pointed at Rollo, face twisted in grief and hate. "He's mine, you alien whore!"
Kami stood, body blocking Rollo from sight. "Not anymore."
The girl screamed again, sound fracturing the chamber.
Rollo's heart hammered in his chest, even faster now. The veins on his arms glowed. His bones ached with sudden, wild energy.
He tried to stand, but Kami's hand pressed him down. "Stay," she commanded. "Let the system finish."
He watched, helpless, as the two women—one alien, one human—squared off, eyes locked. The shadows in the room twisted, condensing around Kami, feeding her. The girl's crystals pulsed, spitting light.
For a second, nothing moved.
Then they rushed each other, a collision of hate and desire, of old love and new.
The shockwave cracked the floor, split the bed, and sent Rollo spinning into darkness.
He woke to the aftermath. The room was a ruin. Glass littered the floor, blue and white fluids smeared everywhere, the air thick with burnt ozone.
Kami stood over him, naked and perfect, hair wild, breathing hard.
The girl was gone. The wall where she'd entered was smeared with black, as if something had burned her shadow into the glass.
Rollo sat up, both cocks still hard, both hands trembling. His tattoos glowed, the skin beneath them humming.
Kami knelt, pulled him to her, and kissed him—hard, fierce, full of hunger and pride.
"You did good," she whispered, licking his lips. "Now you're ready."
Rollo didn't ask for what.
He believed her.
[TO BE CONTINUED]