Kur Solemnar. That was the name of the vessel, or at least that was once the name it bore. Ships often changed hands in the void, and it wasn’t uncommon for their names to change with them. 

      Skye first learned of the ships ancient name by reading an old plaque bolted to the door frame of a stairway, and was mystified by the way it sounded. Somehow, it didn’t feel safe voicing it out loud. The letters were engraved like slivers of ice embedded in a grim bronze facade. It was as if the architects wanted to intimate the reader as much as possible. 

      “I’m so hungry,” Luusti complained while keeping a hand on her stomach. They had been walking for hours without any sign of the crew, or any hint of life existing apart from them. Power flourished in the ceiling panels, and conduits surged with newly restored electrical currents. It was as if the ship was coming alive, awaking from a long cold sleep. Where darkness reigned, light was slowly burning away the shadows, and the sound of air ventilation systems broke the dreary silence.

      Coiled tentacle’s, plastic wrapped bundles of cabling, littered the side lanes of the halls. At times Skye swore that she saw some of them move, as if stirred by unseen sentients. Dark oil like substances leaked from seams of the wall panels, and drooled down to the floor.

      Skye didn’t respond to the aliens multiple complaints for lack of food, instead she was too busy ignoring the grumbling in her own stomach. The duo would be greeted only by the occasional statue carved in obsidian stone along the walls. Most depicted women at the very peak of feminine beauty, while also bearing the illustrious gifts of a man between their legs. One in every ten would be fully erect, with nipples stout and shaft at full mast. 

      It was only when they noticed some of the statues sporting a slight slouch in their midriff, that Skye felt a pang in her own gut. Slowly the statues they encountered were more noticeable in their stages of motherhood. It was when they reached a vast doorway that they were met by a pair of statued women, moulded with six breasts, three sets of bosoms that ran down the length of a slender torso, with protruding stomachs fit to burst with life.

      “So damn hungry,” Luusti complained again, this time with more passion. Clearly she wasn’t impressed, or alarmed, by the eerie monuments around them.

      Lights flickered overhead, and the door frame appeared sealed by a plasma torch. The grooves along the center were looked fused, as if to secure whatever laid beyond. There was no terminal, or door latch mechanism within sight, leading Skye to believe it was opened via sensor. 

      “Please just shut up, stop complaining. I can’t do anything about food anyway.” The words barely passed from Skye’s lips when she felt a sudden spike in her gut. The bile rose so quickly it took her by surprise, and Skye started puking violently where she stood. She found the contents of her stomach to be little more than silky white paste. Dizzying spells accompanied the sudden bout of nausea, and Skye could feel thick beads of sweat strolling down her soft cleavage. 

      “Shit, I think I may be pregnant?” Realization dawned with frightful apprehension. Skye spat acid tasting drool while steadying herself against the wall. The panel felt warm against the palm of her hand. 

      Memories of Killjoy Brickwork came to mind, more than one in fact. Skye placed a hand on her stomach, testing the thin layer of fat along her midriff as if that alone could confirm or deny her suspicions. Her abdominal muscle was tight underneath her finger tips, and she wasn’t sure if there was an added softness.

      The sent of her enhanced pheromones was palpable as she started sweating from the sudden anxiety. Following a tight pinch, a heat wave engulfed her breast, and Skye whined from the sudden pressure pounding in her chest. Her top breasts felt heavier, firmer from the sudden build up of milk, while her lower pair were already lactating fluids.

      Luusti wrapped her arms around her heaving chest, her tail swishing back and forth, as she studied Skye’s shaking figure. The alien kept herself at arms length, but fought the instinct to reach out and try to offer some comfort. Her eyes seemed frightened, however, and alarm covered her face. 

      A crunching noise sounded the moment that Skye stood up straight, and tried to take a step forward. As if finally alerted to their presence, the door’s automatic sensors chimed, and the breaking seal along the seam of the door cracked open. While it groaned under duress, the door opened slowly, creating sparks along the floor as solid slabs of metal were dragged into the walls. 

      On the other side, neon blue lights glowed to reveal what could only be a vast collection of glass tanks. Skye’s first thought was of tube shaped aquariums, but as Luusti turned around to get a better look inside, her tail suddenly stopped twitching. Instead it fell to the floor.

      “Skye…” Luusti eventually tried to speak up. “What kind of ship is this?” 

      Just beyond, dozens, if not hundreds, of women laid in a severe state of hibernation. Nestled in floating pools of bluish fluids, their stomachs were all heavily pregnant, and their breasts were engorged. Some were burdened with the Voluptas genome, like herself, while others were clearly encumbered with the Fascinum genome. But most the occupants were Suklean’s.

      One figure stood out towards the front of the door, where most the women seemed the least developed from motherhood. While her facial features were much softer, she did bear a striking resemblance to Brickwork Killjoy. Skye gasped, noticing the same sharp eyes, curly brown hair, and narrow smile that also belonged to her former lover. The woman even had the same blemishes in all the right places. 

      Was it only coincidence? Skye wondered. Or could this really be the same man?

      Looking down the woman’s body, ignoring her perky breasts and bold pink nipples, Skye couldn’t help but notice the incredibly large phallus spurred to erection between her legs. Dozens of needled instruments were feeding the pulsing veins belonging to the penis with unknown substances. It even curved the same way as Killjoy’s.