PART 3: THE TAKE-OVER
Practically quivering, Kelsie walked as straight-legged as she could back to her room, her wide eyes gleaming with newfound sights only she could see and her scalp buzzing with energy that was surging up her spine from her pussy and filling her with the tingly, zinging heat of arousal. She yearned to rub herself, but she knew she couldn't -- if someone caught her, she could be thrown in quarantine, and she definitely wanted to get rid of her new companion before that had a chance to happen. She paused as she rounded the passageway outside the showers to listen and could make out the moaning emanating from within past the motorised hum of the filtration pumps and the rush of the water through the unshielded pipes directly behind the wall. Kelsie thought she knew who it was making the pleasure-filled sounds in there, and grinned knowingly.
Every bit as slim and barebones as the rest of the ship, the showers were simply communal glass walls arranged so that one long pane of automatically opacifying glass jutting out from the wall shielded a small shower, drain, and raised changing area from each other, a little like how a cross-section of oblong items stacked short-edge to long-edge in a square box has a small space in the middle and four rectangular sections split each by one line. Being a completely closed, self-sustaining loop that utilised sterile washing fluid to keep both the people and the pure water clean, each shower simply cycled its own supply through each cubicle over and over again. It was self-sustaining, cleaner than a human needed, and could last fifty years without refreshing the water or fluid. Many ships went longer, which is quite possibly why medical sciences finally found a cure to the cold and flu. That, and the exo-dermic injector.
Kelsie scratched her thigh again and bit her lip as she felt her bodily invader squirming inside her. Her eyes glazed over for a moment and she shook on the spot. Then, purposefully, she strode off.
Some twenty minutes later, after spending a good amount of time in the privacy of her own ceiling-indented quarters above and to one side of the right-hand bridge access hallway, staring in utter awe down at her pussy and fingering her clit delightfully as her every tiny touch was echoed and multiplied by her symbiotic invader, Kelsie was downstairs eating some snap-thawed rations with the gunner Mike Black on the bridge. He chomped into a bar that was supposed to be a meat and veg special while she spooned cardboard and glass from a dry bowl into her mouth with the hunger of someone who'd rather eat actual cardboard and glass. The next sweep was due to happen in just over two hours, and Black and Kelsie had been assigned the forward deck for their search. They'd both agreed to catch up on food beforehand, and so here they were.
Kelsie ate as if she were in a trance. She breathed as if she were in a trance. Hell, she existed as if in a trance. The food seemed to appear in her mouth without her intending it to happen, and when she chewed and swallowed, she felt it as if she were watching another person do it from a first-person perspective. Her whole being trilled at her as if humming a harmonious chord, as if each part of her body was a string in a harp, and everything around her seemed to glitter and vibrate. She stared over Black's shoulder sightlessly as they ate and existed in an only half-present state in the world.