The Crew was starting to divide, between the bloodthirsty insane (like me) and the simply disturbed.

We had finished the last of the decking repairs to the Ship, and rather than stopping, we started renovating. Up and down.

Everyone wanted the old trusswork covered with proper ceilings and such.
>>hidings the scratcheses of my hooooookses

There was a… A shift, in the way the crew interacted.

When the decks got brighter, well… Some things, it's better in dim, red lights.

But warm lighting also brings cozy shadows…

Okay basically there was a lot less fucking out in the open. I know, I know, very sad. But now we could see and feel we weren't limping in a dying wreck anymore. People wanted… Well, we wanted to be less crazy.

We weren't, but we wanted to feel like it, at least. At least it was the good kind of crazy, from the giggles and hushed whispers whenever you passed a nice shadowy nook.

Marion and I shared those pretty often. Sometimes wandered too close on purpose, warm hands snatching and tugging us in.

Sometimes Marion just picked me up by waist and collar and lobbed me right into the fun, waited in the light to come stumbling drunkenly back out.

Nobody minded that kind of fun at all.

No… No, as always, it's The Club that was the issue.

There was never a discussion, no debate. We just… We all pretended there was a secret.

A secret we all knew, and we all knew we all knew, but we pretended we didn't.

Because some of us, it's a wonderful surprise! For the rest… Well.

Marion and I were getting on better, now. Not like a few years ago. Our last cycle. A long pause before coming back up.

Our last cycle… Well. We had been so good. We were eight, nine months before we… Had to try again.

Marion had caught me when the Machine dumped me out. It had taken to just upending the tubes and letting everything flush out on the floor.

Maybe it was upset with us. Change is hard on us all.

We both felt it. We weren't scampering off like giggling children to flay each other alive, this time.

We had secrets from each other, and it was time to have it out.

She told me she knew we had already passed our intended planet. I told her I had guessed as much.

Not exactly a lie, but…

I told her… I told her the truth.

The Machine wasn't in a panic anymore. That the cullings and the lottery weren't necessary. Not to keep The Machine in check.

The Machine was doing it to keep US under control.

But it was… Like Sweetie and Stephen. They lasted FIVE YEARS. And then… No splash, no boom. They just curled up together, and vanished. Waiting for landfall.

While some like me were jonesing for knives and fire and voltage after just a month or two.
>>to shuts us ups
>>you're afraid of us
>>hiding
>>Long darks doesn't keeps us hidings for longs anymore

Fuck. My brain is full of fuck.

Marion was back in Captain mode, when I told her that. Had to take a long, hard think.

I didn't know what to do with myself, when she sent me away. Wandering through the ship.

People were back in uniforms now. I mean you could SEE it, underneath. Here I was, honest baseline Human, surrounded by… Bimbos and Amazons and Bimbozons and… Well a lot more Human Cows than I'd noticed before, but what the hell.

Everyone was buttoned up or in actually modest clothing, damn the sex-addled body underneath.

So having the Red Lady sashay right through the middle was one shock.

The second was… Nobody paying her an iota of attention.

Sharp heels clacking, red leather creaking, body harness woven around giant breasts and tiny waist and broad hips and tugged up between her thighs to keep her pussy slightly spread.

And it was like she wasn't even there.

And nobody noticed me, either. She swished past me without stopping.

But now my hand was in her iron grasp. I yelped as I spun around, drug off through a crowd that parted like smoke, across decks I only vaguely recognized.

Everything… Everything was turned AWAY from The Machine, now. No windows, no lights. The grand staircase to The Club was unlit. No heads rested on the platters under the darkened lamps, no inviting faces frozen in their last gasps of bliss.

I felt unwanted, just like it.

And yet so many furtive figures were snaking through the shadows, climbing the darkened stairs.

No one crossed our paths as the Red Lady led me up.

There was a crowd milling about inside the Club. Naked bodies, but masked faces. Knives still in sheaths, flames unlit.

Weird how, when there's no blood, all the sex stands out so much more.

I felt so tiny and small when the Red Lady pulled me through The Club, led me through a curtain at the back.

One long finger pointed at a chair in the dark.

I sat and waited as she left.

I don't know how long I sat there, worrying.

Then she swished back in, pulling my Marion by the hand.

I don't know what the Red Lady did. I mean Marion was in full Captain's Dress.

Then Miss Kennedy was there, too. Which… When Marion and I cycle out, she cycles in next as Captain.

Why was she here now?

The Red Lady took off Marion's hat, and put it on Miss Kennedy. Neither of them seemed to notice.

It was when she lifted the coat off Marion's shoulders, that suddenly she was naked. No costume, nothing. Marion gasped and finally noticed.

The Red Lady put the coat on Miss Kennedy, and she came awake.

"Oh! Pardon me, ladies!" She chirped. A smile and a quick salute. "I need to check in on the bridge!" And she was gone.

We blinked at each other. I felt a chill.

When did I strip naked?

The Red Lady snapped her fingers, and two happy maids bopped in from the shadows, pushing carts.

All filled with my favourite slutty outfits, all the shiny blades, all our favourite tools for taking me apart and putting us back together.

She smiled, bowed, and snapped her fingers again, then pointed at a red tile on the floor.

The two maids bounced over, and stood on the tile. They bowed low to us, then stood straight.

They looked a little surprised as the Red Lady caught their long ponytails, lifting to put them higher on their toes.

Then her sword swished, and the maids sighed. They fell to their knees as their heads swung from the Red Lady's grasp.

She smiled, saluted with her sword, then flicked it sharply down. The hot blood of the maids splattered across my face and chest.

Then she was gone, leaving two headless bodies behind.

Marion stumbled over to me, held me tight.

We cried. We hugged. We kissed.

I sighed and moaned as she finally ran a blade down my chest and peeled me open.

Usually I thrash and wail. It's so intense.

Tonight, it was like slipping out of something silky.

Marion's kisses were raw fire on my naked meat. She cut and sculpted my flesh, the saw on my bones slid through like a knife across a cowgirl's throat. The usual agonizing bliss was gone when she twisted the extensions into my bones.

Hosing down my naked, bleeding flesh with the dermite film was a cool kiss instead of searing, frigid frost.

Tonight, I was a pale ivory.

She carefully stroked and smoothed the shape of my face. She plucked out my plain brown eyes, the slurp and squelch as they tore from my sockets… Ohhh, the first intense bliss of the night.

I was blind, until she gave me my new eyes. Purple, she showed me, holding one up, so I could see her smiling face, my raw meat visage.

I let out a shuddering sigh as she painted my face on, then painted on my face. I quirked an eyebrow curiously. All blacks on a pale ivory? Curious.

Tonight, my hair was long and straight, snipped square and imperious across my eyebrows, down around my ankles.

Marion finally made a sound, smiling and considering.

I was on my knees a moment later, gasping and wheezing raggedly, face filled with glee as she tossed my tiny flat tits on a tray. Finally, the burning bliss I wanted.

It was over a little too soon, I thought. I could just touch my fingers if I wrapped my arms around my new chest.

But sometimes, small is nice.

Marion moved to the trolley again.

Somehow, the bodies of the two maids had vanished.

She picked out red lace and satin. Long gloves, sheer stockings with frothy tops. I was about to ask about the size when she sat in the chair.

I kissed and licked and nuzzled my way up her legs, rolling the sheer red up over chocolate skin and ink-black kisses.

I hmmmmm'd, nuzzling in the thick thatch of wine-red hair, and smirked. We'll leave that for last.

Shoes, tall, thin heeled and red, shiny in the small single light.

I stood behind her, gently raised her chin, kissed her gently as I rolled one glove up her arm.

She barely noticed the blade swish across her chest, until her tits landed in her lap with a meaty thump.

She let out a shocked, wavering cry, her thighs quivvering as her wide eyes watched me setting her heavy tits on the tray beside a half-dozen of my own.

I admit, I enjoyed sliding my fingers between her ribs, watching her head twist side to side, moaning and writhing and biting her lip, feeling her heart thunder as she let out a cry, raspberry scent rising as I drove her to climax.

I let her suck her own blood from her fingers before I rubbed the salve over her open wounds. Such fabulous new stuff, just cup and smooth your hands here and there and new, fabulously round and glossy tits. Resting on her thighs, puffing up under her chin, massive spheres for Marion tonight. I pull and stroke and twist, pulling thick, fat, hand-filling nipples into being, high on her massive tits.

Then I give her her other glove.

I look over the trolley, plucking up brushes and paints. Red for her lips, around her eyes, a dust on her cheeks. I pull the bun from her hair, tousel it a little, and it erupts into huge ruby waves.

We smile and sigh and kiss. This is what we want.

She follows me back to the trolley as I pick through the tools. A bit surprised as she lifts my arm, sliding a long black leather glove into place.

From sharpened gold fingernails to the rows of spikes around my upper arms, it fits like my own skin.

She helps me into long boots. I wobble a little. Ballet boots are a little new. I wiggle a bit, the gold spikes ringing my thighs clicking off one another.

She gently lifts and fans my hair, sliding a snug band of leather around my throat, caressing the golden spikes as I choose my tools.

The blowtorch, of course. She's on the floor with her thighs flung wide, letting out a ragged moan as I lick her cunt with the flame, burning away her thatch of vat-grown hair, leaving her shiny and smooth.

I swear, The Machine does that just so we can play games.

I keep playing the flames over her cunt. It's so odd, the things our bodies can endure, the things we can't. Even outside The Club, orange flames like this are just toys, making her writhe and squirm as the juices she's leaking boil and caramelize, her thick pussy lips quivvering and spreading in the billowing fire.

>>When we did this in The Bad Times, you had burned straight into her belly by this time.

Maybe that's why I made these spots a bit… Fire resistant.

She suddenly cums and squirts hard enough to snuff out the flame, gasping and wheezing and giggling. I crawl down and smile and start lapping the hot caramel from her cunt. She squeals, holding my head down against her flexing folds, and I happily slurp up my first meal since she pulled me from The Machine.

I stay down on my elbows, straightening my long, long legs when she's finally had her fill of my tongue. She crawls around behind me and I wag my pale white ass high in the air.

I squeal and shriek with glee as the searing flames blow up into my cunt, burning away the fine black hairs. My gold heels click and scrape on the tiles as I writhe, hot caramel cherry scents filling the room as she boils the juices in my cunt.

I shriek and gush, but she flips the flame up my asscrack, giving my tight pucker a lick of fire too. I screech in glee. I'll have to remember THAT trick.

She slowly licks my cherry caramel from my steaming, shining cunt, flesh quivvering and dancing and tingling so hard from the playful flames. She starts rolling over and working higher, up over my belly, slurping up the blood she left behind when she snipped off my tits.

We squirm around on the floor a bit, gasping and panting, pressing my face up under her massive tits to lick her blood clean, too.

We lie there a long moment, panting and giggling.

She squeezes my hand, and I nod. It's time.

We stand, and we walk to the red tile, hand in hand. A pool of blood still sits there, from the missing decapitated maids.

The curtain parts, and the seated guests applaud. Well, the ones that are left.

Bodies, bits of bodies, blood and gore are strewn across the tables.

"Ohhh… We missed a good show…" I sigh.

I snap my fingers, point down sharply.

Madeline kneels on the bloody red tile.

I lightly touch the top of her head. One arm slips behind her massive breasts, gloved fingers thrusting and pumping in her cunt. Her other rises to her chest, cupping and tugging at that massive teat.

My hand cups her chin, lifting her face. Looking up as I stand behind her.

I smile down as her eyes fill with lust and love.

I wait until she starts cumming, soft wails of bliss as raspberry scent fills the room.

Then I drag the wicked, toothy saw across her throat.

Her eyes snap wide, shocked, trying to let out a howl of bliss, only a loud gargle bubbling from her throat.

Two strokes. Three. Four.

Her head comes free in my hands.

Her body keeps pumping fingers, squirting on the stage, her face a wide smile of orgasmic bliss, her severed neck a fountain of blood and froth, lungs still trying to breathe through the gory mess.

I shift my grip, clutching her hair at the top of her head, holding her head up to show her happy face to the applauding crowd.

I feel a shudder in my hips, joy bubbling in my crotch. I smirk, cock my hips, rest the saw against my hip as I soak up the admiration.

I feel a hand grasp the hair on the top of my head.

A whisper of steel, and I watch my body collapse over Marion's, my blood and hers now gushing out over the front row revelers.

My vision fades, watching Kau fondle Nadine's six breasts, kneading them together as our hot blood drenches the happy cow's bust.

——

I sigh and squirm a bit, murmuring as I nuzzle Marion's breast.

We're a bit calmer this iteration. Nadine let me copy her template, I came out a happy, six-titted cow right from day one.

Getting flayed as soon as I'm detanked seems to make me a little too eager for the end.

Nadine and Kau are snuggling on the other side of the table, Marion's brush slowly twisting my blue locks into long spirals.

Two maids kneel back to back in the center of the table, their severed heads resting between their spread knees. They weren't needed once the meal was done, the Red Lady saw to that.

I look up at the trophy case on the wall. My head next to Marion's.

I giggle, nuzzling in against Marion's breast, luxuriating in happy memories and the gentle touch of her brush.

"Maybe we can make the Black Lady last a bit longer, next time…"