Hi! This is the start of what might (hopefully) be a longer series, where I take a not!Kerrigan character through a cool adventure where she learns to master her incredible mutation powers and, well, fucks a lot of intelligent monsters. Will she embrace her power or fail and become a helpless submissive breeder? Find out!
As for content, it starts in a prison with so if you're not into gaslighting or forceble confinement, heads up. There's also going to be a LOT of monsterfucking in these stories, so, yeah, if you don't like people getting railed by intelligent creatures of varying description, look away!
Everyone else, please enjoy!
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On worlds innumerable, they moved. Without fear, without fatigue, without heed, they raced forward. Each had a different form, sometimes with vast variation, representing the malleability in the genetic web that connected them all. A dog-sized quadruped with segmented jaw parts and a ravenous appetite marched in the shadow of a colossus of tusks and fangs whose charge could split a tank apart. Huge, bat-like lizards that glided on grey membranous wings shared the skies with colossal, eldritch squid creatures that reached high into the heavens, their tentacles stabbing the ground with each lumbering step.
The parade of abominations bared down on their target. But what that target was seemed subject to change. One moment it was a research facility buried deep in the rocks of a frozen planet, glacial ice cracking under their combined weight. The next it was a defensive installation in the soaking heat of a jungle, trees falling like dominoes as the horde barrelled forward. It was a bunker. It was a city. It was a tower in the desert.
Finally, it was a single human figure. Her long, glorious magenta hair swirling around her head. Her hands were claws, elegant and long and razor sharp, stretched out before her in exultation. She wore no clothes, her naked body a mix of chitinous armour and human flesh, with shimmering scales for shoulders like iridescent pauldrons. Her body was caught between a model of perfectly alien beauty and a weapon of the deadliest form. She lifted off the surface of a pool of water, propelled by unseen forces to ascend as an acrobat in flight. All eyes turned to her. The beasts swarmed, but not in attack. They circled, their many eyes gazing reverently at the floating form of...of...
***
She awoke every morning to that same dream. The forms changed, as did the locations, but everything else...the swarm of creatures, the alien woman, it was all she saw when she fell asleep. It could be a memory. It could be some abstracted fantasy. All she knew is that it was important enough for her mind to fixate on, even in her current state.
The lights flicked on. Daytime, more or less. With her mind still foggy, she reacted on instinct and rolled to her feet. She had thirty seconds to shift off the uncomfortable slab to her feet, where the platform that served as her cot would recede into the featureless grey wall, rendering it identical to the other three sides of her cubicle prison. No visible mechanism, no discernable seam, it was like the bed had never been there.
Immediately afterwards, they would arrive. Two men in spotless white coats and serious expressions would enter through a door that appeared from a part of the wall without a visible seam. They would sit down at chairs and a table that pushed up from the floor, open a briefcase filled with various inscrutable devices, and begin their interrogation. She could sit down at a chair provided, or pace, or sag against the wall and weep. In a hundred frustrating ways, they would ask the same question.
"Who are you?"
And she would respond in just as many varieties.
"I don't know."
This would go on for hours. When they left, the door would disappear again, leaving her in her prison cell for another day. The one concession to the idea that she was a living thing and not an item in a box was the air vent in the ceiling, five metres up. It pumped in diffused white light and conditioned air, but the lack of circulation still made it feel hot and stuffy, especially with two other bodies inside.
The two men wore identical outfits but couldn't be more different in appearance. One was lanky, with carefully combed dark brown hair and angular features. The other was stocky, balding, and peered down at her through wide rimmed glasses like she was a petri dish. Both smelled like two different brands of equally cheap cologne. They didn't identify themselves, so she'd taken to calling them Tall and Small in her head.
Tall paced, something he had a habit of doing, clenching and unclenching his fist like he was walking off being scolded. Small leaned over the table, splayed fingers holding his weight.
"That's not a satisfactory answer. The tests don't show that anything has happened to your brain. Your neurochemical readings are all normal, your full spectrum biotics are merely a touch over borderline. You are the same person as you were before the procedure...mostly. So it stands to reason that you are lying to us."
"We're just trying to help you," Small chimed in. He had a strange accent that she couldn't place. Not that she could place either of her accents. Or her own. "Can you describe your home? Your family?"
"I don't care if you believe me or not," she replied, trying to control a swell of anger, "I'm telling you the truth. I can't remember my name, where I come from, where any of this is."
Small jotted down something on a flat device in his palm. "What's the first thing you remember?"
They'd asked that before, too. She repeated off the answer. "I remember flashes. Some kind of corridor. A needle. And something thrashing around in a tube. Before that, nothing. After that, I'm in here." She held out her hands to indicate the room. "What about you? Do you know my name?"
The men were taken aback. It was the first time in a long while that she'd asked a question. "We...that is to say we can't give you that information," Small began before being interrupted by Tall.
"If you cooperate, this will go much faster. Now, think about it. Reach out with...whatever. Look in your mind and find that part of you that tells you who you are and listen to it."
She shook her head, but humoured him. Closing her eyes, she searched herself for the answers she sought. They'd told her to do this before, but this time felt different. The noise of the fan fell away, as did the scratch of Small's stylus on his tablet. The room opened up, and in her mind's eye she saw an infinite multitude of pinprick lights in all directions...
**MORRIGAN**
The word came out of the blue, crashing into her mind like a railgun round. She screamed, clutching her head. The pair of men crowded around her, pantomiming concern.
"Are you alright?" one of them asked, she couldn't tell which.
"I...just a headache," she said, for the moment unwilling to tell her captives anything they didn't already know. They didn't believe her. Tall pulled out a hand-held device from the briefcase, casting a blue light over her head. He stared at the other side's screen with a furrowed brow.
