OuterSpace Breathes 40mm Baton Rounds

Her strong legs lifted me into a spacecraft. The controls were sticky with a grainy syrup. We were doomed. But honestly, we had been doomed since long before this ship had even rolled off the assembly line.
Some sick fuck dreamed of experimenting on people like us. (My wet legs slip into her body). His name was Igor Lott. He was a scientist for the Imperialist Party. (Tongues intertwining like a DNA strand). He planned to conquer death in the name of the Greatest People. We were stepping stones to that end. (Her cocktail dress and jewels burned and burrowed into my thick layers of hide).
(Pages of our sacred history soaked in secret pastes and smoothed out onto our bare tissues and flashing lights). “Citizens #26 and #28, step forward onto the grating, please. I’m going to have to ask you to remove your faceplates.” (I shivered free of her tentacles and erotic orders and took my place for the fuck, her eyelids like wet goosedown).

To be continued...