Marion and I are sitting in white chairs in a white room in front of a white desk with a white chair behind it.

I look at my feet. Almost as white as the floor. Toenails inky black.

I spread my little toes, wiggle them. Flex my ankle back and forth as far as it can go. Bend my toes up and down.

As much as I can't stand being Baseline… We've done some bizarre things to ourselves.

A baseline foot is meant to be flat. Heel flat, ball flat, toes flat.

My feet are stretched, narrowed. The arch of my foot curled down, long bones on a severely steepened slope. Heels raised. My toes are mounted at practically ninety degrees to the long bones. I can almost touch the top of my foot with my toenails, but pointing them straight out is a struggle.

My whole foot can bend down nearly ninety degrees from my shinbone, but barely ten degrees above.

The overlap of bones and cartilage are wider. It's harder to roll your ankle sideways now. As a safety feature.

And yet… Pulling straight down, the connection is weaker.

Like knees, or elbows. Or hips. Shoulders.

Necks.

We've rebuilt ourselves to force ourselves out of balance, to flex certain muscles, all to make our asses perk up and wiggle when we walk. Then we reinforced the parts that we overstressed so we can strut and swish without worrying about snapping our bizarre anatomy apart.

But then strategically weaken ourselves so… So someone else can.

All this… Navel gazing.

I sigh, look down, cup my hands around my giant ivory breasts. Can't even see the damn thing on most of us, around these.

I let out a frustrated groan, uncurling myself, ass scooting forward as my head cranks back. I glare at the ceiling, cursing it for its ceilingness.

"… What the hell is it FOR, anyway?"

Marion looks over. "You're the one that built it."

"I built bellybuttons?"

"Wait, what are we talking about?"

A door in the back wall opens. Behind it is flat stretches of green grass and rows of trees heavy with fruit. Cows are snuggled together under one, resting against the giant form of Kau.

Clydesdale V2 template. Actually based on the Stephen template that Sweetie created for herself, and then… Well. Applied to Stephen.

And then hung off him every chance she got until he popped her like a balloon.

And somehow that made her love him even more!

"Goddamn, this ship is fucked up."

Nadine sighs as she slips into her chair, kicking her heels up as she twirls around a few times. "Tell me about it."

She puts her heels on the desk, stretches. Stares at the same spot I was staring at.

I can tell, because we're staring each other dead in the eye, through the reflection.

But then our gaze slips to one side. And then off the reflection, to the elephant in the room.

A twisted tangle of wires. A crushed steel box full of emitters and collectors and doodads and whatsits that you'd never understand.

A crushed coffin, glossy black, lined in red velvet, with its ejector baseplate still gently wobbling.

Well this explains the second reason Kaugurl is gigantic now.

Nadine steeples her fingers in front of her face, peering over her fingertips.

"What I cannot, for the multiple lives of me, BEGIN to understand…"

She trails off, inarticulate for a moment. Her mouth works, makes little sounds. She frowns, glares at the fucking thing.

Kaugurl had wandered closer. She stays outside, on the grass, gently petting her cows.

All four of us finally ask the question that was hanging in the air since…

Well. Since the music started.

"Why the fuck were we dancing?"

And the cows provide the answer. They hear the word, and they perk up. Two or three giggle as they wriggle from Kau's arm, bouncing around a bit as they find their beat.

Arms above heads as hips bop side to side, then hands pushed down low by their hips, leaning forward as they swing those six sloshing spheres about, pitter-pattering milk across the grass.

Marion and I lock eyes.

We are identical in height, width, length. Every measurement identical.

Her skin chocolate. Everyone else ivory. Her hair dark ruby and rippled, everyone else inky black and straight as razors.

I glance at Nadine.

She had freckles. And little horns. And she was dribbling more than us.

Kau had blonde roots showing. And something about the set of her jaw, the way she looks at you.

Templates. Fucking templates.

"It's the goddamned Black Lady."

"… Explain for the rest of us, please. I want to know why I wanted to kill that damn box. Permanent-like."

Goddamn, those are the most words I've heard out of Kau in centuries.

I sigh, curling into my seat again. I want to disappear inside my own cleavage.

"… Because I cranked all my stupid excitable spoiled brat snuffbunny blade-starved cumslut tendencies up past eleven to somewhere in the middle teens in this template."

Marion sighs, blows a loose lock of hair out of her face. She crosses her arms over her tits and pouts.

"See? She's acting… Like I usually do."

Kau takes a deep breath, lets it out, slow and shaky.

"I've never… Yeah. Never been so… Horny, before. For…" She rubs at her throat, lets out a sudden ragged moan.

I smell pineapples.

She lets out another yelp. A cow has snuggled up between her meaty thighs to clean her up.

It takes her mind off…
>> -shink-shunk-
My head feels loose, I suck in a ragged gasp. My thighs squirm, my eyes wide, staring up into the corner. I let out a whiiiiine through my nose as cherry scent fills the room, a soft -pap-pap- as my red secretions drip off the chair.

I smell raspberries. Marion is rubbing her neck.

Nadine… Nadine is tracing a finger across her thigh. She looks… Sad.

There is a noticable lack of buttercream fragrance.

Kau rumbles softly as Marion and I squirt into our chairs from the memory of it alone. "You… Gonna be okay, sweetie…?"

Nadine blushes, looks away from Kau.

"I… I don't… I hate being so… Greedy."

I moan softly, thighs trembling. "We didn't have to scrounge, sweetie. We had dicks lining up for us."

Nadine makes a squeaky sound and turns red, her white blouse suddenly wet and a little translucent, sticking to her six pink nipples. She writhes her thighs together and now I smell buttercream.

Marion has given in entirely, fingers squelching in her cunt, groaning as she tugs and fondles a teat, starting to coax out her own cream. I want to latch on and suck hard, bite and squeeze and be a horny little pest until she starts confiscating my limbs.

I shudder again, spreading my thighs wide, letting out a moan as I flaunt my own orgasm, ivory labia trembling as my cherry red syrup drips. "And… Fuck, getting into Doldrums… We all get…"

Marion lets out a moan. Our horniness is compounding. I want to start licking up that raspberry, I want to slice her up, I want her to slice ME up…

I smell lemon and lime and apple as some of the herd push in. Sweet happy cows, I hug the lime girl's face with my thighs as lemon starts kissing all over my tits. Even with the eager little tongue on my cunt, I feel my heart slow down.

"Something about cows…" I mumble, fondling Lemon's long ear.

These are new. Nice though. Good handles.

I glance over where Marion and apple are grinding, their legs intertwined, my Captain seeming to deflate as she twirls clits with the happy, placid, calming cow.

I recognize her face, gasp slightly.

She has the same golden-blonde bouncy curls, the same soft smile. The same sinister slant to her eyelids.

She glances at me, her eyes sharp green and piercing. She needs her little maid hat, her little apron. The spiked ballet boots and clawed gloves and spiked collar Marion borrowed from the Red Lady long ago.

She needs to be sprayed with blood, festooned with gore.

I squirmed into Marion's grasp once, hid my face against the side of her breast. This maid that collected Marion's lottery box long ago.

I've watched her hang a nervous maid by her ankles and slowly grind her in half from crotch to chin with a belt sander.

She put a shovel in a cow's mouth and stomped down, then rode the poor thing's tongue and bottom jaw for nearly ten minutes "because leaving some brainstem keeps them wriggly."

She's the only one I've ever seen cull a Dick. Two at once, filling her ass and her cunt, tearing their throats open with those clawed gloves as they unloaded in her.

She's the only girl I've ever seen that prefers taking a welding torch over a blade when she gets to be culled.

I know in my heart she wants to Cull and Be Culled off-Lottery, FAR outside the Club's embrace.

And here she is, calm and placid. Not a drop of menace as she twiddles clits with my lover.

I want to pat her head.

"We need to get out of these templates…" I moan, lightly squeezing my thighs around lime's head again.

Suddenly apple is awake. Her eyes like lasers, her smile spreading like blood on the stage tiles, like the innards of a giggling Party Popper showgirl erupting from her bulging lips.

How can a Cowgirl smile like a shark…?

>> deep in my memory, I remember gentle hands, soft lips, holding me and kissing the hurt on my forehead, where they put the shiny sticks inside my head and stirred so a pretty cow could not think.
>>I remember hugging with my long legs because they took my arms away.
>>I remember her mouth and his, suckling, feeding, giving them milk like good cows should.
>>I remember three happy years, in the dark room showing all the little lights in the sky, feeling their worry and frets as they watched them go out.
>>I remember her mouth between my thighs and his cock in my throat. The grimy taste and stink of Baseline all over me.
>>I remember their worry when I sneak away, to my secret place, where I made magic before the bad ladies stirred my brain. I brought them the magic potion that makes them strong, makes them pretty.
>> I remember her mouth on mine, tongues swirling, passing his cum back and forth while he ruts us, up and down, in and out, trying each of our four holes.
>>days and days and many many days, years of three, we play in the dark room, games of love and bodies and milk and holes and mouths.
>>until the angry men at the door, screaming for cows, screaming for meat, smashing at the tiny windows.
>>she cries in my chest, tells me no afraid. Touch my neck. Fast, across.
>>room spin. Feel… Funny. Weak. See myself sit down. Red rain from where my head should be.
>>She turn to man, tastes of apples. He afraid, before his head fall down.
>>she turn her head, tilt it funny. Shows me sharp fingers, sharp smile. Turns to angry men. Shows them her fingers, dripping red.
>>No more me.

She smiles wide, eyes burning green slits, showing all her teeth. Her hand high on Marion's shoulder, but her thumb is caressing her tender, tender throat.

She lets her other hand fall, curling her fingers like a claw.
Like hooks.

>>eXcUsE mE. i HuNtEd BeCaUsE i WaS sTaRvInG.

She lets me know, she knows, I know.

Her hips still rolling, murmuring through her massive sharky smile, twiddling her clit around Marion's, six milky breasts wobbling. The most murderous cow I've ever seen.

This is the most interest in sex I've seen from her in a long, long time.

Marion moans softly, mumbling about needing to get into her old clothes.

The cow's shiny teeth part, and her pointed tongue licks across them, slowly.

Her voice is sweet, like honey-soaked razors.

"Oh, sweet thing…" she purrs, still caressing Marion's soft throat, touching the weak spot on her spine where her neck comes apart easiest. "I would just LOOOOOVE to help you out theeeeeeere."


I squeeze Lime's head with my thighs, rocking and rolling my hips to her tongue. Lemon gets a soft kiss to the forehead and two fingers hooked in her ass.

I let my head loll back.
>>i HeLp YoU sMiIiIiIiLe.
"Hello again, Penny. Sorry, Parker still hasn't woken up… I'll get you two back together as soon as I can."

So stupid.

So obvious.

Anyone who can read simple history should have seen the hell on the horizon before we'd ever see Parker.