FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Thirty-three years, one hundred and seventeen days, nine hours; that was the remaining time until they arrived at their destination- already two years into their journey. In the deep of space, a mere speck in the unending void, a vast ship with a spinning fore drifted at sub-light speed; the fastest they could go while having enough fuel to slow down at the end, plus a little extra for emergencies. They could burn a little more fuel and shave a year or two off their journey, but that banked on a flawless voyage.

Colony Vessel Thirteen, or CV-13, was the latest after a dozen prior attempts. Its purpose was to transport over ten million colonists, their cryogenic pods stacked like firewood throughout the cargo that embodied most of the ship’s rear, to a distant planet deemed suitable for their purposes. These people were handpicked from untold billions for their knowledge and ability to recreate their world with a prosperous future. It was a grand goal, but in reality, it was more like rats escaping a sinking ship.

Earth was dying, and had been for some time due to a combination of negligence and greed that turned their beautiful green and blue orb into something more of a pale brown. The atmosphere was getting too hot, the oceans were drying up, plant life suffered, thus the animal life suffered. Projections predicted an accelerating decline in life, leading to an uninhabitable surface within thirty years, ending at total extinction within the next century.

And so, it was time to leave. For once in all of history, the entire world worked together and pooled their resources to produce enormous vessels, each one a staggering improvement over the last. Year after year they launched these ships towards distant star systems with no way of knowing if their missions were successful until the once beautiful Earth became more comparable to Mars.

Colony Vessel One failed to ambitiously launch from the ground, resulting in a city-sized crater (subsequent ships were painstakingly constructed in high orbit). Colony Vessel Two suffered catastrophic damage from a solar flare on its way past Sol, frying sensitive electronics and leaving the ship dead in space – it continued to drift on its current velocity, hurtling towards a distant planet with no way to slow down and no living colonists to see it. Colony Vessel Seven passed through a nebula and failed to emerge from the other side, never to be detected by deep-space scanners again. The rest had been successful thus far, meaning nothing had happened to them yet.

Despite millions locked in frozen slumber aboard CV-13, only four crew stood vigilant against the unknown. They were the skeleton crew, or ‘sacrificial lambs’ in hushed tones, because they had to endure the full duration of travel without any cryo sleep. For all the advancements in computing, cryogenic technology and space travel, progress into artificial intelligence was insultingly poor; the finest anyone could come up with were basically machine-learning programs that lied about data as often as they fabricated it, sometimes for no discernible reason.

That led to skeleton crews: a bare minimum of staff that would maintain the vessels where automation failed, only really called upon when sophisticated droids and the world’s smartest software encountered something truly unexpected.

CV-3 had a crew of eighty-five, forming a small community cut off from the rest of the universe. A few years into their voyage, reports of inner conflict reached Earth’s listening stations; violence, murder, factions forming within the volatile crew to gain power, replicating the very issues that caused their home world’s collapse. The third colony vessel hadn’t failed in its mission yet, but a catastrophic personnel event was predicted to occur before they reached planet-side.

Crew size was then reconsidered, and evaluated to be most efficient at a measly four. But what sorry individuals would agree to live half their lifespans in the company of only three others, limited to the same living quarters and the inky void of space?

The desperate.

Capitalism was stubbornly alive and well in the final age of Earth, allowing the influential and wealthy onto colony vessels as often as those actually qualified. The declining natural resources and immense efforts refocusing towards construction meant that anything other than basic necessities were undogly expensive.

For Gwen, this was a steady supply of estrogen. Such drugs were at a lower priority than ever, meaning the black dragon has no hope of fully transitioning with their meagre start in life. Signing up to the skeleton crew of CV-13 secured cryo pods on said ship for her entire extended family, a luxurious future on the distant planet (should their journey succeed), and enough estrogen to transition a hundred times over in the thirty-five odd years it would take to get there.

Karl was a similar case; except he had already transitioned to male and gotten top surgery before signing up. Ahead of him was a lifetime of gruelling construction work to pay off the mountain of subsequently incurred debts. When the opportunity to live in relative luxury in exchange for years he would have otherwise spent in a dangerous line of work appeared, the German shepherd took it without hesitation.

The reasons to sign half of one’s life away weren’t always money-related- though it certainly helped. Flynn lived a modest life, often drawing attention for being half cardinal and half ocelot – upper and lower halves, respectively – and had the opportunity to live humbly on the dying planet. But that would be the end of it. He and his family would be snuffed out alongside the world. His grandparents told tales of a paradise that the planet no longer resembled. Flynn longed to see it, and for his family to see it in future generations, even at great cost to himself. He did it for loved ones, and to see civilisation survive.

For Clover, it was an escape. Finding a job outside of construction was infuriatingly difficult, especially for a catgirl who just wanted to relax and be cute on the internet all day. In the end, they’d succumbed to peer pressure from their entitled family, forcing them to choose between the infamously hazardous construction listings, or being thrown out on the street. Clover chose the skeleton crew.

The four of them had met at a NASA training facility and gotten along like a house on fire, quickly leading to them being assigned to CV-13 together. For years they trained relentlessly on complex systems and generalised problem solving. They weren’t required to understand quantum physics per say, only rocket science. It was an incredibly stressful time for all of them, since the fate of millions – including their families (except Clover’s, who had been denied access at their request) – depended on them. Well, only in an emergency. If nothing actually went wrong, they would arrive at the planet without lifting a finger. The skeleton crews were merely a precaution after all.

The bulk of the automated efforts would be done by machinery and computers programmed with every conceivable situation, from assault by hostile alien vessel to skeleton crew mutiny. All efforts to develop artificial intelligence were abandoned in favour of programming vast banks of fail safes. Asteroid fields, solar flares, black holes, and anything similar detected by the ship’s sensors would automatically adjust their speed, trajectory, whatever required to ensure colony and crew safety. The incredible technology would be able to handle almost everything. Unless something really bizarre occurred, the skeleton crew’s attentive efforts would be in vain.

Which was hardly a bad thing.

And so now, two years away from their dying planet, they drifted in the would-be-silent void, if not for onboard speakers playing a funky tune. The music selection was vast, in that it was every single song the Earth could provide to their lambs. The global collective spared no expense in making colony crew lives as comfortable as possible; it was projected that success rates would sharply decline unless the crews were kept mentally stable. Expendable resources such as painting supplies and food – other than flavoured nutrient sludge – were not included, for they were far too wasteful in such a long mission. Very few things outside of recyclables were permitted on board, such as a few personal effects of the skeleton crew

Reusable resources were spared no expense, however. For once, capitalism stayed its ugly hand for the ship’s construction to be the best it could possibly be, no corners cut. This meant that their living quarters – about a hundred or so rooms and corridors, from utility to entertainment – were as lavish and futuristic as possible. The entire thing rotated as well, giving them an equivalent of Earth’s gravity to work with. There were running tracks, exercise machines, a swimming pool, and literally every virtual media in history, built to last the entire journey and then some.

Clover was right at home amongst the consoles and computers, vowing to finish every single video game during their long journey. Karl was more at home in the bowels of the vessel, being the only one to traverse the service corridors – normally utilised by humanoid robots and spider-limbed drones – in his quest to understand the inner workings of the grand machine they now called home. Flynn took his duty very seriously, being stalwart for the initial year away from home. As time went on and nothing happened, he learned to relax and join Clover for some cooperative play. Gwen focused on her transition, taking her exercise regimen and medicine religiously. Her hard work was rewarded when her chest finally protruded enough to justify a bra.

For over two years, they went about their days – though ‘day’ was no longer a concept – and grew closer to each other. The crew found intimacy, occasionally having sex with one another. They did so freely, for one of the requirements to being on the skeleton was sterilisation; it was seen as a necessary precaution, since babies would cause far too many problems to be worth risking.

And there was a state-of-the-art medical bay of course, complete with a fully automated surgery pod. Clover insisted it was based off the one from Prometheus, a highly criticised movie from the Alien franchise, and had forced everyone to watch the entire franchise the following day, thus beginning the weekly movie marathons.

Off duty, the skeleton crew were well entertained, and life was relatively good. The most ‘excitement’ any of them had seen in the first couple years had been when a spider drone triggered an alert after falling from the wall, a red-feathered quill jamming its tiny limbs. Flynn paid more attention to his preening efforts after that.

That’s why they all jumped and rushed to the bridge when Gwen, being the mandatory on-duty crew member at the time, announced an issue throughout their quarters, disrupting whatever localised music each of them had been playing: “everyone, we’re on a collision course with the nebula.”

Gwen had studied the route a thousand times, since it was basically all she had to look at during the long eight-hour shifts. They were headed for the planet originally scouted for CV-7 before it disappeared into the cosmic nebula. Going around the cloud of scanner-blocking space stuff added almost five years to their journey, but NASA weren’t foolish enough to try the exact same thing and lose another colony vessel. Their path took them along the edge, safely skirting the outer reaches of the ominous, glittery cloud as it swirled through the cosmos by some means unknown to her.

Except, it had moved into their flight path.

She’d been watching an ‘arm’ of the nebula for weeks now, like an outstretched limb of rainbow glitter waving around at a pace best measured in decades. CV-13 was projected to miss it, passing just under- over? Space still boggled the dragoness’s mind, and their constantly rotating hull didn’t do any favours. Regardless, they were supposed to miss by a substantial hundred or so kilometres.

For one reason or another, it had moved disturbingly swiftly into their path, and they would collide within the next four hours. To Gwen’s knowledge, it was just space dust or something. No more than a galaxy-sized collection of loose atoms that would eventually form a real galaxy. Still, they were going fast enough that hitting a solid rock the size of a penny would be like a rail-cannon shot through cardboard.

The dragoness wasn’t superstitious, but it was difficult to ignore the unlucky connotations of their ship number. The crew arrived, a mix of anxiety and fear on their faces.

“What happened?” asked Flynn, “I thought we were going to miss??”

“We were!” replied Gwen, jabbing an accusatory finger out the front viewport, pointing at the thin line of nebula they were hurtling towards. “I-I checked the trajectory at the start of my shift, it’s the first thing I’ve always done for the last year. We were supposed to miss.”

Karl paced around the bridge, holding his head in his paws, “shit, shit, what do we do?”

“Doesn’t the computer have a solution?” Clover asked.

“No, we were supposed to go around it. It wasn’t supposed to move,” replied the bird.

“Boost under it- over- fuck. Around it,” said Gwen, panicking.

Flynn quickly jumped into the co-pilot’s seat and began plotting a course, calculating how much fuel it would take to avoid the gargantuan reaching arm of stardust. He swivelled the chair back around with a frown. “We have the emergency fuel to avoid it,” he started, “but the optimal trajectory is going to add… an extra ten years. And counting.”

“WHAT?!?” shouted the other three in unison.

He extended a wing, presenting it as the nebula ‘wall’ while his hand was their vessel. He moved his hand closer. “The longer we debate this, the sharper angle and move fuel we will have to burn through to get around it,” he explained, angling his hand towards the wall’s edge. “Each minute we delay adds,” he turned to consult the terminal again, “about another week.”

“Fuck! Then do it now!” shouted the German shepherd.

“And add ten years? We’ll be in our seventies by the time we make it to the planet,” Clover groaned.

“We won’t make it at all if we plough through a wall”

“We don’t know that…” muttered Gwen, causing all eyes to fall on her. “It’s space dust, basically wind in the air.”

Karl tilted his head in an adorably dog-like fashion, “there’s no wind or air in-“

“Yeah yeah I know! I’m saying I don’t think there’s actually a problem going through it.”

Flynn cocked an eyebrow, “it’s the same nebula CV-7 disappeared into.”

“They went straight through the middle. We-“ Gwen leaned over her instruments, consulting the readouts, “are passing through a very thin amount. We’ll be out the other side in a minute or so.”

“I don’t like this,” stated the canine, “but ten years…”

Helpful as ever, the bird turned to check his route calculation again. “Ten years, two weeks.”

Gwen put her foot down, clapping to get everyone’s attention, “okay, we vote now. Raise hands in favour of going straight through.”

Gwen, Flynn, and Clover raised their hands. Karl scowled for a moment, then raised theirs too. Surprisingly, he gave a deep laugh.

“Sure, fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

In what could be their final hours, the crew did all the things they’d been saving for a special occasion. Gwen revealed her small breasts to the crew, which led to a round of group sex. Flynn poured himself a Tom Colins from their very limited alcohol supply. Karl gave himself a succubus-like womb tattoo using the highly sophisticated medical pod. Clover locked themselves in their room and masturbated to a variety of fetishes that would disturb most people, from pet-play and dubcon to parasites and monster-fucking.

And on the last hour, the crew gathered in the bridge to watch the potential disaster, hoping if the event was going to kill them, it would do so instantly. They wouldn’t really be ‘watching’ since the blast screens lowered across every viewport, just as every bulkhead sealed shut. Their attentions were on the display panels broadcasting the suite of sensors CV-13 was equipped with. Immense arrays of antennas bristled their vessel like a cold war sea mine, detecting everything there was to detect. All but the nebula itself, which remained stubbornly impenetrable, appearing as a solid wall in their three-dimensional topography map.

Seated and buckled in the four inbuilt chairs, they held hands and braced as that wall of darkness overtook their ship. It hit them like turbulence, rattling everything far greater than they’d hoped.

But they didn’t blow up.

Several alarms immediately began blaring, followed by a dozen more as hull sensors reported damage. It was minimal, showing only a few antennas being snapped off as something eroded them away, and superficial damage to the hull itself, as if their ship were going through a sandstorm. They endured this for just a couple minutes, worrying that every jostle preceded the ends of their lives. As their enormous vessel finally emerged out the other side, they released the breaths they hadn’t realised they’d been holding.

Then another, far more significant alarm graced the bridge with its crimson emergency light. Everyone looked up at it simultaneously.

“Hull breach. In corridor 3-4-C, repair bots enroute,” breathed Flynn.

“Is that it?” Clover asked with trepidation, “are we through?”

Karl unbuckled his harness and stood. “Yeah. Call off the repair bots.”

“What, why-?”

The canine shrugged, “we’ve got potentially thirty-three years of nothing to do. I was trained to weld before I signed up, I wanna weld a spaceship. There might be some nebula dust in there too.”

“I’d like to see that,” said Gwen, getting up as well.

Flynn and Clover remained at the bridge, watching through the interior cameras. The video feed in the compromised room was, unsurprisingly, non-functional. They saw Gwen and Karl make their way to through the ship in bulky spacesuits, though the dragoness’s suit was far more cumbersome, given the need to cover her wings. It looked like she wore a hiking backpack, made of flexible material to store her wings semi-comfortably. Both of their tails were stored in similarly bulky bags hanging off their rears.

Eventually they made it to the corridor, making sure to decompress their section before proceeding. As the bulkhead unsealed, the bridge crew switched to their suit cameras to watch the ‘action’.

Karl had brought an entire trolley of spare hull plates and various repair tools only to be disappointed by what looked like a hole the width of a pencil drilled through the wall. There wasn’t even any space dust. The canine sighed through comms, “I was sorta hoping for a little more, as terrible as that sounds.”

He pulled the trolley over and began welding while Gwen leaned against the wall to watch. With not much else to do, the dragoness considered the angle of the hole, and where they were on the ship. It wasn’t close enough to the front to justify that kind of entry angle, meaning something had hit them, not the other way around. She glanced around the corridor, looking for some kind of space rock. No, if it was a rock then there’d be a much bigger hole, and a rock wouldn’t make a hole like that anyway, right? From the glimpse she’d gotten before Karl’s welder lit up like the sun, there wasn’t any damage around the breach.

It was odd, to say the least. And as Gwen pondered, she failed to notice – as did everyone else – a midnight black object detach itself from the darkest corner of the ceiling, flinging itself with some basic amount of intelligence towards the dragoness. The black thing was about the size of a pinkie finger with no discernible features in its glossy texture. It landed on the side of her wings’ backpack, the sound of impact completely undetected. The thing stuck to the flexible membrane and squeezed into a crevice, then returned to being an innocuous object.

“That was disappointing, yet still the most exciting thing I’ve gotten to do,” Karl sighed, “maybe ever.”

The welder flicked off to reveal a thick plate stuck on where the hole had been. Their suit visors depolarised automatically, as did the camera’s glare adjustment for the bridge crew. Gwen gave him a pat on the shoulder, “I think this was enough excitement for one day. C’mon, maybe the outside of the ship needs some repairs.”

Karl perked up. “That’d be cool. We’re not permitted to spacewalk unless the spider droids can’t handle it.”

“Fingers crossed.”

They departed corridor 3-4-C and waited to be repressurised. As they did, the little black slug, being a living creature and not a mere object, began to chew through her suit when it detected the change in pressure, just as it had bored through the hull. It did so with ease and slipped inside to find a hiding place on Gwen’s body, just as her suit alarm went off.

“What? Crap,” she said as flashing red warning filled her helmet. “My suit’s compromised, what the fuck?”

Karl gave her a brief look-over then said, “might be some microscopic space dust cutting holes in your suit? Just be glad it happened after we were done.”

Gwen sighed, “no space walks for me then.”

Perhaps with clearer heads, they might’ve questioned it and looked for the mysterious hole, but their adrenaline was still pumping from having survived the whole ordeal. The ship was worse for wear, but they’d made it through. Nobody was aware of their new passenger as it continued to hide in the crook of Gwen’s wing, blending in with the deep hues of her scales and remaining immobile for the time being.

The skeleton crew spent the next several hours running around, analysing diagnostics and figuring out what repairs were urgent and which could be done tomorrow. By the time things calmed down, the dragoness was quite exhausted.

She retired to her personal chambers, and as always, favoured sleeping in the nude. Slumber came easily, and that’s when the slug decided to strike. It undulated carefully over her form, passing close to the gap in her fine scales that was effectively the dragon’s ear hole. No, it’s instincts decided. The alien’s limited intelligence sensed that passage did not contain the nutrients it required, at least not without harming the host, and replication was the primary objective until it established a hive. It wormed onwards, further down between the slight valley of Gwen’s breasts, then further to her draconic slit.

It wasn’t a pussy, as much as she liked to envision it was, for within was her internal testicles and flaccid cock, ready to slide out when needed. The slick little black slug wriggled in, travelling inside the sleeping derg to find the tip of her cock, sensing this to be the easiest path to the nutrients it needed without burrowing and alerting its victim.

Within the soft flesh of her insides, it wiggled closer and squished itself inside her tip. The passage it sought to enter was designed for fluids, yet it yielded to the insistent undulations of the slug, forced to stretch around the pliable little creature. For Gwen, it was a tickle that would’ve caused alarm were she conscious. Instead, her insides were invaded without a chance to stop it as the slug got deeper and deeper

Even squishing down and elongating itself, the slug gaped her urethra as it forced itself through that tiny hole, causing Gwen to stir, but not wake. As it travelled, the parasite secreted a cocktail of chemicals directly onto her most sensitive places, swiftly making her very erect. From her slit came her cock, distended due to the black worm half-embedded in the cum vein. As she tented her bedsheets, the end of its tail disappeared into the tip, making her shaft bulge bizarrely. Soon after, it found its way into one of her testes and began to dissolve, releasing more of those chemicals and its own genetic material. The slug’s form dissipated entirely to taint her reproductive system, corrupting that one teste before spreading to the next, then influencing her cock, too.

Gwen had been pleased to notice her cock shrinking over the years, and now all that effort was being undone; the dragoness’s length swelled larger, and would remain so while it continued to be fed by the constant stream of chemicals her corrupted balls now produced. It throbbed against her will, granting unexpectedly pleasurable dreams to the writhing girl, quickly stimulating her towards climax. Anxious dreams of their vessel failing quickly turned sexual as she imagined herself fucking each of the crew and creaming their tight holes. Despite her preference for being on bottom, the feeling of seeding something warm and tight was rapturous, like she’d been filled with overwhelming desires to fuck and breed.

The bedsheets soon became stained with her thin cum as the parasite undid her vasectomy and ‘cleansed’ her. After a few weak spurts, the clear semen turned an inky black as the last of her original seed was ejected, then followed up by the new fluids of the slug. With her balls emptied and Gwen still fast asleep, her altered insides began producing parasites instead of sperm, along with plenty more black fluids to help ‘deliver’ them. The dragoness breathed heavily, almost looking feverish as her body entered a losing war with the alien repurposing it. In just a few minutes, her flagging cock returned to full hardness, twitching with eagerness as the little slugs inside her impatiently waited.

The dragoness awoke sometime later, feeling uncharacteristically horny. Morning wood wasn’t something she had to deal with for ages, and now it was back in full effect: simply rubbing against the sheets as she sat up sent pleasurable tingles racing up her spine, making her gasp in arousal. Rubbing bleary eyes, Gwen noticed the wet spot at her crotch and frowned, “what… how did..?”

She tenderly brushed the sheets off and grasped her erection, which stood firm at a healthy several inches, then moaned at how good it felt. It was like grasping raw nerve endings without any overstimulation, just pure, leg-shaking pleasure. Without meaning to, she stroked herself fervently, almost bringing herself to orgasm before finding the restraint to let go; she’d already ruined her sheets and didn’t want to make even more of a mess.

“Fuck,” she gasped, “why am I so damn horny, mmfff…”

Gwen willed herself up and started to strip her bed- then nearly doubled over when her cock lurched, stunning her with paroxysms of pleasure. The bed would have to wait until after; she struggled to even think until she got some relief. Almost stumbling over her feet, the dragoness made her way into her personal bathroom, growling when the lights failed to switch on; she annoyingly recalled there was a damaged section just outside her room, which was a low priority in the grand scheme of things.

She closed the screen door behind her and twisted the handles, relieved to find that the plumbing worked just fine. Hot water cascaded down her scales, though her attention was elsewhere; she gripped her cock like a two-handed sword – which was odd, since she’d been unable to fit both hands around it even before starting on hormone blockers – and jerked like a thing possessed.

The pleasure was all-consuming, forcing her to lean against the wall as her trembling legs threatened to fall out from under her, unable to think or, more importantly, be concerned about the sudden, extreme arousal. Her inner testicles churned, feeling overstuffed and demanding to be emptied, as if her cock were giving the orders instead of her head. She was all too happy to oblige, and rubbed herself to an unparalleled climax.

Had the lights been on, and if she weren’t too busy convulsing in ecstasy, Gwen might have noticed the way her shaft distended to spew out dozens of little slugs, black as the starry void, along with equally dark cum, making it look like she was erupting with disturbingly chunky ink. She near screamed and arched her back as she emptied herself, toes curled and claws gripping her length, unaware of the terrible affliction she’d succumbed to. The steamy downpour of the shower washed away the evidence quickly, preventing her own spawn from infesting her further while simultaneously sending all the parasites into the waterways of the ship. They were sucked down by pumps, sent spiralling straight to the filtration system to be a later problem.

Blissfully ignorant, Gwen was finally able to think a little more clearly and washed herself off.

By the time she was dried, bed stripped, and sheets inserted into the cleaning system, the dragoness started to wonder how strange the ordeal was. Or, she would have, if her growing erection hadn’t stolen all the blood her brain needed. Her inner balls were quickly refilling with more of those alien slugs and her cock demanded attention once again, arresting her thoughts to lewd inclinations and obscuring the alarming realities. Just when she was considering a revisit to the shower, Flynn and Karl turned the corner, on their way to the crew quarters after completing their own repair assignments.

Previously, she preferred fooling around with Flynn, whose feline cock visited her tailhole as often as hers was in his warm beak. This time, for reasons unknown to her, the prospect of boypussy tented her pants like nothing else. The boys shared a smirk at the obviously needy dragoness drifting towards them, like a hungry child following the wafting scent of a windowsill pie.

Her words came out desperate and breathy, “hey, Karl, c-can we..?”

The shep chuckled and folded his arms, “yeah, I could blow off some steam. You want some, birdie?”

Flynn waved them off and kept walking, “No thanks, I’m feeling dirty and greasy. Not the kind of unclean I’m into, especially on myself, heheh. You two go ahead.” The cardinal hybrid gave them a wink before disappearing into his own quarters.

Eager to hit an undoubtedly better orgasm, Gwen followed the canine into his room, earning a surprised snicker from him. With how open the skeleton crew were with each other, everyone’s preferences were as clear as day: Karl and Gwen had fucked many times, but it was well known that he wasn’t the derg’s favourite, which made her current infatuation endearing, if a little odd. Having a clearer mind, he almost began to question how unusually swollen and overly sexual the trans girl’s cock had become, but then she fucked that thought right out of him.

Flynn’s bathroom had a working light, meaning he was allowed the full horror of the situation Gwen had unwittingly brought into their home. The avian was whistling a happy tune, much like birdsongs of ancient earth before such cardinals had been wiped out by the degrading environment, when he turned the handles. A sputter of water splashed onto his feline foot, then nothing. The whistling ceased as he glared up at the shower head, as if that was its fault.

“I thought the water systems were untouched, damn diagnostic-“ he started, then a trickle of liquid dribbled out. He couldn’t see into the little holes, but it seemed like something was clogging up the flow. Actually, it looked like multiple somethings were coming out, and-

The shower exploded with black stuff as the buildup released, coating the cardinal hybrid with black slime before he could leap back. He squawked and struggled to clear his eyes of the goop, afraid of getting any in his eyes. Thankfully, that seemed to have cleared the plumbing up as the water had returned to its normal, clear state. Flynn hurried to step back in and wash the gunk off, only to realise that several insects were on him, looking like leeches from the history books on swamps. He held one up on his feathery arm, struck by morbid curiosity as it hurriedly slid up towards his shoulder with clear intent.

“What? AAAAHRR-!!” he screamed upon feeling something – probably one of the slugs – trying to worm its way into his ear hole. He slapped a hand down and ripped the disgusting thing out: it was indeed another slug, confirming there were dozens on him, judging by the tickle all across his plumage and fur. They squirmed over his legs, body, neck, everywhere. Flynn screamed through gritted beak, unwilling to risk any getting into his mouth, as he thrashed around in the shower, desperately grabbing and flinging the things against the walls. They were annoyingly impossible to squish in his hands, being tough yet malleable, and they clung to him like glue, forcing him to rip off feathers alongside them.

If the situation were anything but utterly horrifying, he would have been amused by the worm getting the bird.

With eerie coordination, the slugs assaulted his holes: multiple headed for his ass, cock, and ears again. He whipped around like a tornado, slamming into walls and desperately brushing off as many as he could, washing some down the drain and even stomping on a couple, leaving dark splatters on the floor. Alas, two found his cock and ear holes simultaneously, forcing him to split his attention. With alien intelligence unbefitting of a silly little worm, they locked onto the openings and sought shelter within, rushing to avoid the bird’s flailing hands. He diverted one to each, managing to get a firm grip on the one latched to his head but fumbling on the one crawling into his urethra.

Panic gripped Flynn’s heart, he had to act quickly. He yanked the one in his ear out, making him hear a sickening ‘schlip’ as its wetness remained behind. Then, with both hands grabbing his limp dick, he squeezed in an attempt to stop it from getting and further and tugged at the half still sticking out. He hesitated to rip it out like a band-aid in fear that its adhesiveness would be like… ripping a band-aid off the inside of his cock. Flynn shuddered at the thought. Instead of any pain, however, he was stunned by a sudden injection of chemical pleasure in his sensitive glans, causing his knees to buckle and his penis to swell. In that momentary lapse of attention, the slug gained a few more inches. Worse yet, another slug probed at that same ear hole, quickly giving him the universe’s worst wet willy as it dived in.

He screamed again as the slippery parasite in his cock gained another inch, which was enough for it to slip out of his grip and fully inside, its pitch-black tail end disappearing from sight. The bird could easily see and feel the disgusting thing squirming down his dick, even as he fought to push it back out with every muscle he had available, allowing the one in his ear free reign to schlorp inside. The one in his cock was a lost cause; he could already feel its cold body touching the insides of his balls. Flynn quickly brought a hand up to snap at the tail of the other slug, only for it to slip between his fingers and disappear beneath the thin plumage on his head.

He took one stumbling step out of the bathroom and collapsed to his knees as his aching cock only seemed to get harder, made oversensitive by whatever-the-fuck that thing was. One side of his hearing was lost as the one in his ear pressed into his canal, apparently unsatisfied with that depth. A sickly popping followed by a wave of vertigo rushed through him, dropping Flynn to his knees as the slug breached something and squirmed deeper still. It was in his skull, rooting around on and in his brain, making him feel things he never wanted to imagine feeling.

Flynn scrambled back up, groaning as he felt hornier than he had any reason to be, cock bobbing at full hardness, and moved to his bedroom’s communication panel, fighting a myriad of hallucinatory sensations. Hitting the general alarm and then activating the intercom on the wall, he shouted, “CLOVER, there’s aliens in the ship! It crawled in me, it’s in my cock, it’s-“

The catgirl, who had just gotten seated on the bridge and was ready to settle down, jumped in response, “nya!! Flynn? W-what are you talking about??”

“Worms! They’re in the pipes, they-“ he flinched as the pressure in his urethra disappeared entirely, only to feel one of his balls tingle as that thing swirled around in it. “They’re in me, I need to get them out!”

“Uhh, fuck, uhmm, this probly falls under contagion. Stay in your room, I’m sending droids!”

“No! I-I need to get to the med-bay, the pod can remove them!”

“Sorry,” came the apologetic voice, “I have to put the ship into lockdown, contagion protocols…”

A hydraulic hiss announced the closing of his quarter’s blast doors. Flynn glanced back to see no less than a dozen pitch-black slugs inching towards him, eager to get into whatever orifice they could. He leapt without hesitation, tumbling into the hallway as the doors pressed closed, sealing the worms away.

“Clover!!” he shouted, hoping they could hear him. The cardinal didn’t wait for a response; the heavy doors continued to close all around the living quarters, and he was running out of options. The far end of the hallway – leading to the med-bay – had already half-shut, but the side leading to the control room was near enough. From there, he’d be able to lift the lockdown and get the medical attention he needed, contagion be damned.

He ducked under it and sprinted, the urgency growing as that slug rooted around in his head, squirming where things should not squirm. He had to, there was, the…

A wave of dizziness overtook Flynn, reminiscent of the times he’d had a bit too much to drink. He was suddenly focused of his achingly hard cock. Odd, that must be the slug’s doing, he noted casually. Knowing there was one of those things in his balls and his brain should have made him panic, yet he struggled to do so. It felt like a foggy haze had settled over his mind, subtly choosing how he’d react to certain thoughts without making him think them himself.

The bridge. He had to get to the bridge for some reason, and so he struggled onwards, stumbling along the corridors and occasionally bracing himself on the wall, naked with the strongest erection he’d ever had.

The blast door to the bridge was already sealed shut by the time he arrived, of course, and was more reinforced than the rest. He slammed into it, desperate to get in but unable to do so. The realisation of failure brought a strange, unimaginable sorrow to the bird, making him physically shudder. Desperate to avoid another negative feeling, he rushed to the door panel and brought up the override. It was Clover’s lockdown, so the game-loving neko probably used the same pin they used at every four-digit opportunity.

Flynn entered 1-3-3-7 and the panel lit up green. Seeing the reinforced door lifting up sent a torrent of happy chemicals into the bird’s brain, as well as a surge of pleasure to his engorged cock. His hands magnetised to it instantly, stroking his enhanced length as he entered the – now unsecured – bridge. Under the blare of the alarm and numerous readouts, Clover hadn’t noticed him enter as they were apparently locked in conversation with the other crew.

“They’re locked in Flynn’s room,” they explained, the other half of their conversation too soft for him to hear. “You should wait for the droids to arrive, it’s not safe. Just for a few minutes, okay? Then-“

Clover’s voice faded into the background as he went to say something, then hesitated. What was he here for? The parasites reminded him by cleansing his genitals; the bird fell to his knees with a squawk as he was forced to climax, shooting out the last of his untainted cum before it turned dark, and then something more substantial ejected from his cock. His vision blurred, but there was no mistaking the slug curling around in his seed. It’d come out of him, and he was certain it wasn’t the same one that had gone in. It was smaller, younger, and he could feel dozens more growing in his ballsack, eager to be released. He desired their release, too. Something promised it would feel reeaaally good if he did.

“F-Flynn..?”

His eyes snapped up to lock onto Clover, who had swivelled in their chair to face him. No, her gaze was lower, drawn to the puddle of black and white cum with a slug that had already inched out of it, heading towards the uninfected host it sensed. Despite cumming mere moments ago, the bird was raring to go again, and the intrusive thought of jamming his infested cock in one of their holes and cumming a huge load of parasitic slugs was so positively reinforced by the one in his brain that doing anything else became utterly unthinkable.

Gwen and Karl fucked like animals, unnatural lust fuelling her desire to top the canine far more than ever. He didn’t mind one bit, as even Flynn didn’t fuck him with this much vigour, humping and kissing like they were teenage lovers. The trans girl’s cock was surprisingly big, feeling like a ridged soda can in his pussy, which made it fairly hard to question why. Such answers could be sought out when he wasn’t getting the pounding of his life.

Bordering climax, the parasites in Gwen’s internal balls were primed to infest the unsuspecting canine when the alarms suddenly blared. Adrenaline spiked into them and they separated, just as an inky black slug retracted back into her tip, unseen by either. She threw a cursory glance down at her junk, feeling something strange, but there were more pressing matters.

“What’s going on? More nebula??” asked Karl, rushing to get his clothes back on.

“I’ll ask Clover.”

Gwen hopped over to the intercom, struggling to get her feet into her panties. With her monstrous erection, it was practically impossible to stuff her shaft back in, so she left it sticking up like a flagpole. The skeleton crew were intimate, they wouldn’t mind. She called the bridge, “hey, Clover-“

The blast door abruptly began to seal, so she jabbed the call button repeatedly. “Clover!? What’s going on!?”

“Contagion protocol,” came the horrible answer, “Flynn reported there’s worms in the ship, oh! Don’t use the bathroom! He said they’re in the pipes or something.

Gwen and Karl both cast a glance to the bathroom door, currently closed, then to the blast door as they heard running footsteps. “What do we do then?”

“You need to stay where you are, apparently they… crawled inside him.”

“Fuck, okay, yeah we all know the contagion protocol.”

“Good. I’ve sent droids to assist Flynn, I think they’re equipped to dispose of small lifeforms…” said Clover, fear tinging her voice.

“Where are the worms?”

“They’re locked in Flynn’s room.”

Gwen worried if the automated systems would detect their crewmate as an intruder, being full of these ‘worms’. Karl appeared at her side, shouting into the intercom with boxers and a t-shirt on, “we can’t just sit here, we have to help!”

There was a moment of hesitation before they heard the catgirl’s sad voice, “you should wait for the droids to arrive, it’s not safe. Just for a few minutes, okay? Then they can escort you to the bridge with me.”

“What about Flynn?”

“He’s still in his room, so we’ll figure out what to do with him once everything has been secured.”

They shared a glance. “I don’t think he’s in his room, we heard him running up the corridor.”

“H-huh? Wait-.” Instead of hearing Clover again, they heard a squawking over the intercom, filling the derg and dog with dread. If he was on the bridge with them, then the contagion certainly wasn’t contained. Clover spoke again, but it was distant as they’d turned away from the microphone, “F-Flynn..?”

Karl nearly pressed his nose to the intercom, “Clover? Hey, what’s going on over there? Hey! Let us out damnit!”

Powerless to do anything, they stared at the touch screen like their friends were in there, doing Dog-knows what as they listened to muffled voices followed by what sounded like a struggle. The German shepherd banged at the sealed door, as if that could ever do anything, demanding it to open up.

The sexy mood had certainly been killed dead, yet Gwen’s boner refused to leave. If anything, it seemed to throb faster, tempting her to forget to crisis for some quick relief. Just when the allure of gripping her aching shaft and slipping it into the dog’s pretty pussy became too much to resist, the hydraulics hissed, and the door opened.

Across from them, the door opened to Flynn’s room as well, revealing a small pile of inky slugs squirming over each other to get at them. Each was the size of a finger and appeared to be made of congealed ink that glistened in the emergency lighting. Most alarming was the way they acted; instead of randomly wriggling around on the floor like a worm should, they inched closer with eerie intent, evidently aware of the prey before them and rushing to crawl inside. Fortunately, the slugs were small and easily avoided as they slipped around and sprinted towards the bridge, but the reality of the situation struck hard.

“Shit, shit! What the hell is this? Are we in a fucking Alien movie?!” cried Karl, growing more exacerbated by the second.

They pounded along the corridors in their race to the bridge, afraid of just what their fellow crew were struggling with when they heard Clover scream. The sci-fi themes of the movies and games they’d all played in recent years had always been fantasies, minus the space travel. What they faced now was concerningly close to the horrors they’d not associated with the glory of space travel. It was too terrible to be true, yet that didn’t change their reality. What really informed them of the gravity of the situation was the scene they screeched to a halt at, ripped right out of their deepest fears, and for some, unspoken fantasies.

Clover flicked away from the video feed in Flynn’s room, seeing the little black shapes closing in on him – they didn’t want to see the fate they’d consigned him to. Instead, they focused on setting parameters for the droids to find and exterminate ‘worm-like’ organisms. The robots didn’t have weaponry like guns, but were strong and had a variety of industrial tools adequate for pest extermination. They sent the order, then responded to a call from Karl’s room.

While Clover explained the situation to Karl and Gwen, their fourth crewmate had made their way into the bridge. With misplaced confidence in their safety, the catgirl didn’t realise Flynn was in the same room until he squawked and emptied his balls all over the floor. Swivelling in their chair, Clover wasn’t sure what to stare at in horror: the cardinal with his almost foot long, pulsating cock, or the worm squirming closer.

“F-Flynn..?”

He had a deranged look in his eye, the kind that couldn’t be reasoned with. Breathing heavily, the avian took one step forward, to which Clover got up and interposed the command chair between them. Karl’s voice came through the intercom, but that was of little concern as Flynn suddenly rushed forward. He chased them around the chair, playing a terrifying game of ring-around-the-rosy until he suddenly lunged across, grabbing onto them with an iron grip.

After a brief struggle, Clover knew it was pointless; the only one who could fend him off was Karl, and they’d locked him in his room. With both hands used to keep the bird at bay – in what was obviously a losing battle – they made the desperate decision to lunge for the console. Their aim was on point, palm slapping onto the right button and lifting the lockdown, but that brief moment was all the opportunity Flynn needed.

“Stop.. stop struggling Clover, lemme h-help…” he slurred, as if saying words was an ordeal in itself.

Clover was manhandled to their knees, firmly in his grip as they cried out, “n-no! Now is not the time for sex, get a hold of yourself!”

The avian’s claws kept trying to turn their head and force their mouth open, desperate to make them suck his dick. He’d cum just a minute ago, yet his length was swollen and throbbing more than ever against their cheek, smearing oily black precum all over their face. Flynn’s rampant horniness was a lesser concern compared to the inky slug climbing onto their leg, dissolving their pants as it went. Clover did not want that going in their genitals, and thus redirected their efforts to grabbing or squishing the slippery thing.

How were they supposed to know Flynn’s balls contained far, far more?

Figuring he would shove his cock in their mouth, they were entirely unprepared to feel his tip press into their big, feline ear. As a catgirl, Clover’s two prominent features were a feline tail and those cute, triangular ears atop their head; it gave them excellent balance and hearing, as well as a much larger aural canal. Apparently this was good enough for Flynn, who gleefully thrust his hips into the side of their head.

“Auuaaghh!” Clover screamed.

The slug had been firmly caught in their hands until that cock pushed in, causing them to jerk erratically. The brief spasm caused their arms to drop to the sides, releasing the worm. It used its newfound freedom to quickly crawl up their body while Clover refocused on getting Flynn’s cock out of their head. Alas, their arms were too weak and every time he bottomed out in their skull, it seemed to push their very thoughts out, like hitting a reset button. By the time they gathered themselves, the next thrust came, reducing Clover to an empty-headed doll while that worm chewed through their pants and found a hole.

“P-please stop, aah, s-stop…”

“Oh-h, fffuck that feels so gewd, heheh,” he giggled to himself.

The bird sounded more and more like a dumb jock, and a drunk one at that. His leisurely thrusts and pleasured panting made it clear that fucking their ear hole felt good. He gripped their skull gently and with obvious care for his friend, yet too firm for Clover to pull away. The pressure inside their ear was immense, and it was oddly wet, too. It sounded utterly bizarre, turning slurpy with precum as he gently fucked their cat ear.

He grunted, “It’s okay, its- mrrf, you.. feel better soon…”

Then something slick tickled the inner part of their head, something that definitely didn’t belong to Flynn. That’s when Clover felt the other slug worming into the tip of their penis, gaping their urethra with its slick little body. It felt the same as the one in their ear, and that’s when they understood the gravity of the situation. He was infested, and soon they would be too.

It was the stuff of nightmares for most, but not them; Clover had a rather unhealthy obsession with a variety of fetishes, including parasites. The initial fear and horror had led them to struggle, but seeing what they’d done to Flynn, knowing the slugs would live in their body, reproducing and forcing its hosts to spread the infestation – presumably through sex – made the catgirl far hornier than even the slugs would. At that moment, they stopped struggling with a dazed grin, just as Karl appeared.

“GET OFF THEM!” he shouted, grabbing Flynn by the arm. With a sudden squawk and burst of feral energy, like a lion fighting over its meal, he shoved the German shepherd away. The avian suddenly sped up, jostling Clover’s head as he used it like a fleshlight. All the cock filling their skull made their vision blur, and they didn’t even try to stop what came next.

Hunching over with a manly grunt, the infested bird penetrated his crewmate’s ear as far as he could, pressing his engorged tip right against the ear drum. Karl was shouting something, but Clover couldn’t hear it, their head was suddenly full of infected cum. A lot of it blasted back out over his crotch, but some seeped in through the gaps made by one or two slugs pushing into their brain. Combined with the one that just reached their balls, it was complete sensory overload; Clover shook like they were having a seizure, which prompted Karl to finally shove the bird away.

Flynn tumbled back, arcing pitch-black seed and several more slugs as he tumbled back and shuddered through his own climax. While the German shepherd inspected their ear for damage, only finding it gaped and leaking inky semen, Clover was in a world of their own. Vibrant colours, immense joy, and excessive pleasure coursed through their senses, revealing the slugs were everything they could have hoped for and more.

“Clover!”

The canine was still blurry in front of them, trying to get their attention. It wasn’t working. With a dazed and bimbo-like expression, the catgirl slipped out of their pants and began to masturbate. The more they stroked, the better it felt, and the bigger it felt, too. Their girly little cock steadily filled out as it grew into a monster, and the lust followed. Despite exclusively being a bottom, the half-naked dog was starting to look rather fuckable.

“CLOVER!”

Karl shook them with a growl, “are you okay?! What’s the matter with you two.” He glanced to Flynn on the ground, groaning and slowly getting up in a pool of his own sluggy cum. “We need to get you two fixed. Gwen!”

Clover giggled as they continued to rub their growing length, “nah, I’m good, heheh.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“I feel so… sexy. It’s awesome.. J-join us, just let the little sluggies in~”

“Okay, I’m gonna go find some hard drugs to shove into you. Gwen!!” he shouted, storming off.

Why was Karl so stressed? This was the best thing that could happen to them. They went to tweak a nipple and discovered the breast around it had a lot more breast than before. A few more prods to the chest confirmed it: the catgirl was growing boobs! They stopped masturbating for a few seconds to tear their shirt off, revealing modest A cups that were moving towards B. Fuck yeah they thought before going right back to masturbation.

Flynn was up and about again, shuffling like a sex-crazed zombie. His own parasitic slugs clung to him like younglings on their parent. He was masturbating as well, no doubt creating more of those wonderful slugs in his big fat balls. Clover was intimately aware of everyone’s genital situation, and even their worm-infested mind could tell the bird’s nuts had swelled to well over twice their size, clearly squirming with parasites. His cock was bigger too, looking almost painfully engorged. Clover couldn’t wait to feel that inside them.

A thought that wasn’t their own suggested breeding, which didn’t seem likely. That’s when another sensation hit them, just behind their growing balls. It felt really good, and without really thinking about it, Clover rubbed between their legs. There was a slit, just like Karl’s, and it felt amazing to rub. The catgirl ploughed a few fingers and in giggled some more, thanking the slugs for giving them a beautiful pair of boobs and a pussy. Anyone else would have been horrified – assuming their thoughts weren’t turned to happy sludge by the worms – yet Clover knew exactly what was going on, having fantasised about this sort of scenario countless times.

The bizarre, alien slugs were corrupting them, repurposing their bodies to reproduce more slugs and reward them for reproducing with mind-bending pleasure. As far as getting taken over by parasites went, this was the fun kind, and Clover was more than happy to indulge. Unlike Flynn, who’d resisted the first few minutes of being taken over, they opened up their mind and welcomed whatever changes their body’s new residents wanted. They twitched as the slugs wrapped around their brain, making minor tweaks and influencing certain parts.

Sudden and blinding pleasure made them cum all over the floor, their seed turning from white to black just as Flynn’s had. Oh that felt gooood, can’t wait to do it inside Karl’s big, soft ear…

Gwen and Karl were rushing out of the bridge, chased away by the slug-laden cardinal hybrid when Clover started paying attention again. “Is this what it feels like to be a hive queen?” they mused. Obviously the objective was to infest the others, and then the rest of the ship. Even thinking about it caused the brain slugs to radiate addictive joy. All those millions of colonists would be such sexy breeders for the slugs; they just had to stop whatever the rest of the skeleton crew were up to.

While Flynn seemed to be directed by his parasites to infest, Clover was mostly in control, albeit with a much hornier, foggier mind. They returned to their seat at the ship controls, one hand glued to their now massive cock, and clumsily worked the controls.

“Gwen!”

The black dragoness whimpered and whined as she stroked her cock, already past the point of being able to stop. What was undoubtedly a horrifying vision of Flynn cumming down Clover’s ear did nothing to halt her arousal, or even spur her into motion. The manly canine had rushed over to help while she failed to resist the siren’s call of her cock. She grabbed it and hadn’t let go since, each pump proving to be better than the last. She really wanted to cum again, especially in Karl’s warm-

“Gwen!” shouted the German shepherd, storming around a pool of dark cum to throttle her.

“Why are you all so godamn horny?! Now is not the time!”

“Sorry,” she gasped, finally letting go. “It feels so good..”

“Ugh, not you too!”

Karl knelt down to inspect her cock. Sure enough, it was far larger than he remembered, even surpassing Flynn’s big cock. He stood back up just before Gwen succumbed to the urge to grab the dog’s face and fuck it. Off to the side, safely away from the two heavily afflicted crew members currently struggling with the slugs in their heads, he hoped the derg would be able to control herself with just her cock seemingly infested.

Then, in true zombie-like fashion, Flynn groaned and stumbled towards them, muttering promises of pleasure; “It’s okay, d-don’t worry, you’ll relax once you got a… slug in you, heheh”. The bird’s hungry eyes were amplified by all the parasites hanging off his feathers like black teardrops, undoubtedly waiting for him to grab someone in a big sluggy hug.

The two looked to Clover, who was convulsing and undoubtedly about to transform into another sex zombie. It became very clear: don’t let them in your head.

“Fuck this, that medical ball has got to have a way to sort this out.”

With the birdie chasing behind, they ran back out to the crew quarters and towards the medical bay beyond. What they encountered was a bizarre battle between several spider bots, a couple of droids, and all the parasitic slugs they evaded earlier.

The robots stomped and swung their heavy limbs, the droids even using their clamps to grab and squish slugs. They were fast but clumsy, clearly not designed to fight critters like these.

The slugs were intelligent enough to recognise these weren’t hosts, though they were threats, and did their very best to fight back. Whatever the slugs were made of proved to be incredibly resilient as they simply flattened out when squished, acting more like a liquid when they wanted to. Their only weapon seemed to be the same one they used to burrow through clothes and starship hull, using some kind of acid that only affected inorganic material.

For the spider bots and droids, this was a significant problem, since they took damage every time they touched one. One of the spiders, having lost too many legs, fell over and succumbed and multiple slugs squirmed onto it, eating away at its delicate electronics until it lay still.

Even so, CV-13’s ‘defences’ were winning enough that Gwen and Karl slipped past without issue. When Flynn tried to follow, the two droids moved to intercept.

“ Halt, you are unwell. Please return to your room.”

He was forced to back off while the other two slipped into the med-bay, sealing the door behind them.

Gwen watched the robots continue to fight through the reinforced glass in the door, hand wandering back down to stroke her cock. The moment she touched that sensitive flesh sent a jolt of pleasure racing up her spine, encouraging her to stroke again, and again…

Meanwhile, Karl looked over the medical pod, just trying to figure out how to open the damn thing. There was a touch screen, but tapping it insistently did nothing. “Damnit, Clover probably knows how to work this. If only they weren’t crazy and infected.”

The pod and all the screens attached to it came to life, and the whole thing turned to face him. The glass on the pod slid out of place as the pod lowered for easy access.

“ Place infected individual inside the pod.”

“Oh, great. That means you, Gwen.” He looked back to the door, unsurprised and annoyed that she was furiously jerking off again. “Gwen!”

“Huh-?”

“Be a dear and get in the pod.”

“Oh, right.”

Gwen climbed in, causing the automated machine to whizz into motion; the pod reclined as an array of arms tipped with sensors emerged to survey her body. The screens pinged lots of red when it examined her crotch. Karl breathed a sigh of relief when her brain waves looked normal, though it noted abnormal arousal of course. The array of options it listed when Gwen got out was alarmingly small.

“Am I gonna live?”

“Yeah, but…” Karl looked to her with great sympathy. “They’re embedded in your testicles or something, part of them. It doesn’t seem like it’ll spread, so that’s cool. It can’t synthesize a cure though,” he sighed, patting the machine. “The only real option here is surgery. You can’t just have those things inside you forever, the medical pod can apparently remove it all safely.”

“What? No way, I- that’s crazy-“

The sudden absence of noise made them realise the blaring alarms had finally turned off, and with it, the lockdown. They rushed to the door and watched all the remaining robots wander off like their shift was over for the day. Few slugs remained, but Flynn was walking down the hallway, cock pointed like a ship’s prow. The doors suddenly slid open.

“Shit, shit! Are you kidding me!?” shouted Karl as he rushed to jab at the control panel. The red-feathered bird rushed forward at the opportunity, and Gwen wasn’t sure if she wanted him to make it inside or not.

The door slammed shut again, causing him to bonk into it as the manual controls ignored Clover’s bridge commands. Satisfied it would hold, the shepherd went to the cabinets in search of supplies. Instead of helping, Gwen became transfixed by her friend locked outside. Despite being full of parasites, he clearly wasn’t in any pain, given how much he was trilling and rubbing himself. That’s when she realised he was rubbing between his legs, not touching his balls or tailhole, but a winking slit between the two.

Flynn has a pussy??

She looked down to her cock, noticing that not only had it grown even bigger, but her breasts had as well. Her A cups were well into B now, and a quick grope confirmed they felt amazing. As soft and squishy as she dreamed, and while she didn’t care for her penis, she couldn’t deny having a large one was awesome. Her excitement hit a wall when she fingered her slit. Nothing. No sign of the pussy she craved, just the usual male vent.

That wasn’t fair, why did Flynn get one? He did have a lot more slugs in him, notably in his head. Maybe that was the difference, maybe if she helped one wriggle into her ear she’d be perfect. It probably wouldn’t come out, even with the surgery pod, but it didn’t really seem that bad. The other infested crew were a little crazy, but they didn’t seem to be dying. It was pretty obvious they loved having slugs in them.

“Hey, give me a hand, would you?” called out the canine, still buried in the shelves.

Clover came out to join Flynn at the door, covered in their own jacket of slugs. Like the bird, they sat back and fingered their new pussy in front of Gwen. The sight was mesmerising, which they were clearly doing on purpose, trying to tempt the half-infested dragoness. She continued watching through the glass, seeing their perfect slits grip around their fingers, faces wrapped in ecstasy with all the slugs writhing in and out of them. Her hand wandered back down to her cock, now imagining herself fucking a nice, tight cunt.

“Hey, are you okay?” asked Karl. He halted his search to give the derg a concerned look. She huffed and finally came over to join him.

“Y-yeah, just horny. I could think clearer if I could just… cum.”

“No no, bad idea. You’ve got those slugs in your dick, if you cum then we’re fucked in here.”

He turned back to the shelves while Gwen processed that thought. She could just ejaculate a little bit and produce one slug, maybe. Just one for herself, then she’d stuff it into her own earhole and Karl wouldn’t have to worry. The dragoness lazily stroked herself while she searched, getting more and more excited at the prospect. She had to hide it from him, or…

Her big cock pulsed in her hand, and she felt the worms within undulate at the base of her urethra, promising great pleasure when they finally came out. Karl didn’t understand how unbearable it was to resist, but maybe she could make him understand. Gwen picked out a sedative and grabbed a syringe, then carefully measure the dose – she wanted to help her friend, not hurt him.

With his focus locked on the infinitesimal text of a medicine bottle, she was able to nonchalantly walk up behind and jab him in the neck.

“AH! What are-”

“Relax, it’s okay. I think I understand what’s going on.”

“What’d you.. do to me?” he groaned, feeling significantly weaker. Gwen helped him down to his knees and easily fended off his limp resistance, getting him into position. She’d watched Flynn infest Clover on the bridge and masturbated to the show. It looked really good, and now with the canine’s big ear at cock height, she understood why.

“These slugs, they feel sooo good, I want to have one in my head. First, I think you need one~”

She placed her tip into the fluff of his ear, immediately causing her cock to throb with ecstasy, reinforcing that this was undoubtedly the right thing to do. As much as she wanted to impale their ear with several inches of throbbing derg dick, that would probably hurt him. Instead, Gwen started with gentle rubbing that trickled plenty of pre into his aural canal, wetting it.

He whimpered in vain, “st- top, please.”

“Try to relax, dear. You’ll feel all better soon, I’m already on the edge…”

After all the masturbating she’d done, nothing drove her over the edge, as if the slugs procreating in her testes were holding back, waiting for a moment like this. As soon as she started really fucking Karl’s ear, all that pleasure rushed forward, making her addicted without even needing a parasite in her brain. It all happened faster than she expected, but that was okay.

“Fuck, huff, gonna breed your head, cum all over your brain-!”

Karl’s weak struggles finally ceased when she impaled his fluffy ear, pushing her hips up against his cheek and penetrating something deep inside the dog’s head. She gripped his skull as she came inside, pumping the canine’s thoughts full of corrupting slugs and all the tainted seed she could muster, her plan of just putting one in there completely forgotten- how could she resist when it felt this good? It splashed back out to coat her thighs, eventually trickling to the floor where it would join the cuntboy’s feminine juices as pleasure surged through his neurons and forced him to cum, too.

His eyes were completely glazed over when she pulled out with a sloppy glorp, leaving him dazed and succumbing to the plentiful slugs taking over his mind. Gwen was tempted to spread his muscular legs and slamfuck that pussy too, but didn’t want her friends to miss out on he fun.

On shaky legs, she walked over to the door and pressed the controls. Immediately, as if the slugs had been gathered on the seams, a torrent of pitch-black parasites spilled into the med-bay, followed by Flynn and Clover.

She felt a moment of hesitation as a dozen slugs raced up her legs, but then the catgirl pulled her into a kiss and all her worries melted. They humped cocks together, pushing out one slug after another while Flynn advanced on the mind-fucked German shepherd. Clover daintily picked up a slug, which didn’t resist at all, then placed it straight into the dragoness’ ear. It wormed in easily, then she was cumming again.

Karl was still on his knees, struggling to even breathe with how horny he was. Those things were rooting around inside his head, touching places that were never meant to be touched, making him feel things he shouldn’t be able to. Gwen left his ear wet with her black, tainted cum and his skull full of worms- which felt sexy for some reason. One, two, he couldn’t tell, only that a myriad of sensations swirled through the dog’s body, like someone was familiarising themselves with a new set of controls. His controls.

Not only that, everything was being twisted into a sexy thought, bypassing his urge to be horrified. Every time he tried to think about how to fix this, a haze of arousal snuffed it, like clouds moving to block the sun. It was becomingly increasingly hard to think, and worryingly hard to worry. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the slugs were erasing his desire to be rid of them, refocusing his attention to how empty his pussy was.

When the infested dragoness – although they were all infested, now that he thought about it – opened the door to the med-bay, allowing the rest of the parasites in, he felt despair. That feeling was immediately overwritten by a spike of arousal into his cortex. Seeing all those eager slugs inching closer made him aroused, now, and the prospect of them crawling into his holes was growing in appeal. Karl was dimly aware that these weren’t his own thoughts, yet he was helpless in thinking them all the same.

The canine quickly began to finger himself rather than do anything sensible, like try to escape. That made him easy prey for Flynn, who simply walked up and laid their slug-infested length across his snout. The bird looked slightly more in control of themself, but just as horny and corrupt. There was one more faltering chance to save his crew, and the minds of Colony Vessel 13; the last vestiges of his will reached out to stop them.

“Flynn, it’s not too late, w-we can fix this. Just don’t put any more in me, please-“ even just saying that hurt, like the slugs in his mind were disappointed. A fresh wave of arousal pushed that fading willpower away, causing his eyes to glaze and his fingers to pump faster. “F-fuck, I’m so wet..” he whimpered, nuzzling into the bird’s ridiculously engorged balls, huffing his masculine musk and feeling the worms beneath the fuzz squirm in anticipation.

“You’ve already got some in your head, don’tcha?” he chirped. “Feels good, right? Imagine how gooood it’ll be once you get some in that wet pussy~”

Karl thought himself as the strongest of them, but now he just felt so needy. He moaned with four fingers deep in his cunt, “n-no, please, I-“

Negative emotions filled him for denying such a gift. The thought of saying no again was unbearable. How could he fight back with his sopping cunt so woefully empty?

The German shepherd whimpered again, “fuck those slugs into me, I-I need it.”

He lay back and pawed at his pants, unable to comprehend how to get them off with his slug-infested mind. The cardinal was even worse, resorting to tearing through the fabric with careful talons, exposing that needy slit and spreading his thighs apart.

“It’s ‘kay.. it’s alright Karl, let me help you…”

The hybrid’s feline cock flexed in a near prehensile way, demonstrating that it had become almost as alien as the slugs. The fat veins bulged black on his otherwise pink meat, giving it a sinister appearance that had Karl drooling. It slid into his pussy with ease, parting his vaginal walls with utmost pleasure. It felt far better than it should have, being amplified by the parasites taking over his mind, reprogramming him into a slutty slug breeder. The next moan to escape his lips was his own; he wanted this.

They fucked on the floor while the other two engaged in a sixty-nine, fully infesting each other in unrestrained hedonism. The skeleton crew succumbed to pleasure while dozens of slugs crawled over them, slipping into ears, nostrils, asses, and any other orifice they could find. The more they had, the faster they transformed; Just like Gwen and Clover, the trans masc canine grew a set of breasts, mocking the scars of his top surgery. He didn’t mind in the slightest. He was sexier now, they all were.

With a shuddering squawk, Flynn hilted himself deep in canine pussy and came hard. There was only felt watery cum at first, then several bulges travelling up his cock heralded the spread of parasites, safely depositing a full load into Karl’s depths. Knowing the infestation was now complete, the ones in their mind rewarded him with the strongest climax of his life. Karl’s eyes rolled back and his pussy milked them for all their worth, more than happy to take every single gift his friend had to offer. As their feline balls emptied, the space behind his womb tattoo filled with tainted cum and fresh parasites, sending him into a euphoria he’d never truly come back from.

The slugs in his pussy quickly got to work, dissolving and adding their genetic material to his ovaries, twisting them into something made for spreading more parasites. The breasts he despised enough to have surgically removed returned in full force, returning to their ‘modest handful’ size and swelling well beyond, making him feel really sexy. The wonderful slugs rooting around in his brain removed those shackles; now he only wanted to be the best host he could be!

While Flynn remained hilted in his cunt – occasionally throbbing and sending another slug into the dog – he felt his sensitive clit extend into the fur of the ocelot’s crotch. It grew and grew, expanding by inches with every beat of his heart, until Karl had his own cock. At the same time, his ovaries split and travelled down, eventually dropping out in front of his pussy to become a pair of fur-coated nuts. Both boys marvelled at the sight, and it didn’t take long for him to start stroking his new cock. Its purpose was obvious: spread, corrupt, infest.

“Fuuuck this is hawt..” Karl slurred, his mind reduced to a puddle of horniness.

“I know right?!”

“Oh my Dog,” he gasped, jerking himself faster, “this is the best thing that could’ve happened…” The hybrid’s feline length pulsed inside his pussy, his own shaft throbbed in his paw. His eyes glazed over with pleasure accompanied by moans, “I-I need to fuck, breed, rrff-“

The bird chirped with lust, “anything for my bro~”

Then it was Flynn’s turn; he pulled out with a slurp, then straddled the newly-minted hermaphrodite and impaled his own virgin slit. The bird was already fully infested, as were they all; this was just for fun. Likewise, Clover and Gwen took turns on each other, trying out all the new holes they could rut like a couple of horny teens experimenting for the first time.

Sex never felt so good. It fulfilled that ancient instinct to breed and indulged in pure, white-hot dopamine straight to their brains. The slugs didn’t truly control any of them, they simply provided positive and negative reinforcement. Resistance was, theoretically, possible for the strong willed.

No such person existed on the skeleton crew, and the frozen colonists were blissfully unaware of their tainted vessel, thus CV-13 was lost in space, continuing to send and receive automatic pings from their home planet, but incapable of transmitting anything complex due to the crew’s dumb, horny, slug-infested minds. They’d fuck and eat and sleep and fuck some more, for years on years until the ship dutifully notified them upon arrival.

Five days, seven hours. Colony Vessel 13 was close enough to see its destination; a marble of blue and green against the backdrop of starry space. It closely resembled their home, which would be nearing uninhabitability by now. Sending messages through deep space took years, meaning any information received was likely outdated already. The last one CV-13 had gotten was a report that three more vessels had been launched to distant planets that year, and that artificial intelligence finally advanced enough to remove the requirement for a skeleton crew. This report was left unread and no message sent in return, just like hundreds of others before it.

The small, blinking light on the bridge’s console didn’t register as anything more than a piece of the background, like the many other colourful lights and confusing buttons. Hosts didn’t need to be concerned about such things.

CV-13 looked the same as it always did from the outside- the interior was a whole other story. What was once pristine hallways kept clean by droids – now dismantled and destroyed – resembled something similar to the Alien hives of the movies Clover had gotten the crew to watch so long ago. A sticky, tar-like substance coated most of the floors, as well as the walls and parts of the ceiling, forming a sort of insect-like catacombs that were familiar to the parasites. Their hosts didn’t understand nor care about why they were driven to cum all over everything to fabricate it all, they just liked to cum.

The skeleton crew looked about the same as they did all those years ago, when they were initially infested. Something about the slugs put a stop to the ageing process, being symbiotic enough to keep their hosts alive indefinitely. The scientists in cryo would have consigned their firstborn to hell at the chance to unlock that biological miracle. This went unappreciated by the crew, who simply spent their immortality fucking on every available surface, spawning and spreading more parasites with each climax.

Clover wasn’t quite the same as the others, as they were now an immobile feature in the corner of the bridge, their limbs embedded and partially melded into a tainted-cum structure. That had been a particularly enjoyable day; the other three stroked themselves off on the catgirl over and over, creating a bed of semen for their new queen. As always, the intentions of the slugs were beyond the empty-headed crew, they were simply slaves to their pleasurable directions.

Being a seedbed wasn’t so bad. Sure, they’d given up their ability to move around, but they didn’t need to anymore. The others fucked their immobile body whenever they wanted to – which was a lot – and filled them with the nutrients to produce more parasites.

Clover created more slugs than the rest of them combined; their pussy and cock constantly spewed out slugs- when not in use by the other three. Their huge tits – also repurposed into gestation organs – erupted with parasites whenever somebody came along to give them a pleasurable squeeze.

It still wasn’t enough; there were millions of colonists.

After the first month, the skeleton crew ran out of nutrient sludge to feed their rampant creation of biomass. Seeking a solution, the parasites lifted the veil on their minds, just enough to let them remember important things while keeping them enslaved to lust. They often did so for necessary maintenance to the ship, since they’d destroyed the droids and drones capable of stopping them. To fix the food problem, they remembered the expansive food stores kept alongside the millions of colonists- intended to feed them upon arrival.

That was when the parasites became aware of more hosts. A flood of dopamine ensured the mind-broken crew were desperate to crack through all the protections to access more food. The slugs were eager to infest and spread through all those people immediately, but were warned by their compliant hosts that feeding all those people for multiple years was impossible.

And so, they gorged on the food, leaving all those sleeping colonists blissfully unaware of the horrors accumulating outside their pods. For thirty-three long years, the skeleton crew did nothing but rut and produce slugs by the thousands. In bodies that did not age, they revelled in pleasure the entire time, obeying their sluggy masters to prepare for a grand infestation.

Karl’s huge breasts smushed into Clover’s every time he humped into them, causing a few more slugs to push out of the seedbed’s nipples. They squirmed with purpose, moving away from the two and out towards the rear of the ship, amassing within the ship’s storage chambers. That didn’t matter to him, all he wanted to do was fuck another load into the moaning catgirl.

This was not the life Karl envisioned when he signed up for the skeleton crew, but it was better than anything he could imagine. He didn’t need to think or worry, just cum and feel good forever. It was utter bliss, and soon they’d be sharing that with all the other colonists.

He chuckled, “it’s nearly time, just.. one more load.”

“Fuck me, fill me more pleeeaase,” the catgirl moaned, clenching on the canine’s shaft and pushing out a few slugs from their own throbbing length.

One more load turned into two. What did it matter if Karl started the unthawing process a little later? After shooting a second batch of tainted cum and slugs into them, Clover’s snug cunt was too good pull out of, and so he pushed back in for a third round. It was only when he became tempted for a fourth that the slugs melded to his brain gave a somewhat irritated sensation.

“Ugh, give me a minute, huff…”

Karl regretfully pulled free and moved over to the command console. With his parasites giving him enough clarity to remember how to use the befuddling thing, he briefly pondered what that blinking light was for. A mental command suddenly flashed across his mind, the colonists.

The German shepherd’s cock pulsed. “Heheh, right, how do I-”

He played with the console a bit, causing the shutters to close and open, then music to play over the speakers- he let it play. Memories and training came back to him as the slugs reluctantly released their hold. For a moment, Karl began to wonder why he was here, why he was about to release the colonists under his protection to an army of slugs, like releasing pigs to a horde of lions. A surge of pleasure to his cock reminded him.

The slugs were good, he was helping, the colonists would feel good with lots of slugs in them. Everyone would be happy. Karl chuckled again as he sent the command, initialising the process to undo the cryogenic sleep of all ten million passengers. It would take a couple hours, which meant some more time with Clover before he went to go join the others.

Rushing back to the catgirl and sinking his cock back in felt like taking a fresh breath after being underwater for too long. Immediately, everything flew out of his mind in exchange for raw pleasure, reminding him how good it felt to fuck without care. He was very excited to help spread that gift to so many others- the slugs in his mind promised pleasure he hadn’t felt since the first day of his rebirth.

Clover wouldn’t be able to join them, unfortunately, being glued to the floor. They didn’t mind, since they were helping in their own way. Millions of slugs currently roaming the cargo hold had been produced by their body over the decades, and each one was an extension of them. In that way, Clover would be infesting more colonists than anyone. That thought sent a fresh tinge of pleasure through their body, a mere drop in the ocean of pleasure they were constantly drowning in. They were a good seedbed.

Gwen lay in the middle of the corridor while Flynn rutted her, gasping and writhing in climax. The cold floor wasn’t as comfortable as the infested hallways of the skeleton crew’s quarters, but they needed to be out here for the grand infestation. She played with her own breasts, since the bird wouldn’t. Despite the influence and corruption of the slugs, his personality stubbornly retained his disinterest towards breasts, even so far as to keep his own chest flat while the rest of them grew tits befitting proper breeders.

He still had a pussy though, which Gwen had a lot of fun using after he put a load in her. These bodies were perfect, it was all she ever wanted, unexpected parasitic cock included. She couldn’t wait to spread this gift to the others. They’d probably resist at first, just as she had way back in the beginning. It didn’t matter, soon they’d have heads full of slugs and be happier than ever.

Hundreds of pitch black parasites crawled over and around them, racing down the corridor to spread themselves throughout the vast storage areas. After she came in him and pulled free, those freshly spawned parasites wriggled out to join their brethren. Just when they were thinking of how to fuck again, parallel lights along the corridor lit up, signalling the cryo awakening nearing its completion. A few moments later, Karl turned the corner with a comically large armful of fat slugs.

“Whew, Clover’s been busy, huh?” grinned the cardinal-ocelot.

“We all have been,” Gwen smirked, “let’s go fuck, and spread~”

The infested crew split up to cover more area; even with millions of slugs swarming all over, they hadn’t made enough to completely overwhelm the ten million or so colonists. There wasn’t even one slug for each unexpecting host! They’d need to spread and create more breeders for their cause, using new converts to infest like an overwhelming plague. A happy, sexy plague.

One by one, the cryo pods hissed and unsealed, not opening all at once, rather when the individual inside naturally awoke. The first to rouse were the unlucky ones – or lucky, depending on whose opinion it was – and had their pods swarmed with too many alien parasites to do anything about it, not to mention the three who were personally greeted by Gwen, Flynn, and Karl.

Five days, five hours until Colony Vessel 13 began atmospheric re-entry and controlled crash landing onto the alien planet it had been cruising towards for years. Automatic systems would detect if the atmosphere was breathable, scan for lifeforms, and return detailed analysis to the experts on board. Said experts had five days and five hours to evade the parasites infesting their ship before the escape even became possible. In what was undoubtedly a horrifying scenario, especially for all the colonists about to get their heads infested, the skeleton crew were going to have a lot of fun.