When Cortana led him with glans in hand, John was expecting something different. Perhaps he was expecting an array of blue bodies, all waiting for him. Perhaps he was waiting for another gorgeous view of the stars. Or, perhaps John was awaiting a bed placed in front of them, and just the AI herself, wishing to take him to sleep.
What John was not expecting, in his lust-drunk, ball-bursting, cock-ramming shape, was Fred. Or rather, a changed Fred. Where definition and muscle remained, shaping the Spartan's body like a weapon, other things looked off, to start. Instantly John was on alert, ready to question what in the hell Cortana had done to his teammate, but her fingers had directed him otherwise. It was almost sickening in a way, being ripped from his eros straight into sobriety, only to have blood flood back to his cock, dipping right back in.
Fred, for all intents and purposes, was there. There were his eyes, cold, calculating, but now interested. There was his hair, cut short with silver streaks. There were his, her legs - bare and shaven, likely by Cortana herself. Those calamitous calves and thick thighs led to a wide, jiggling rear, fat just concealing Blue Team's most beautiful glutes. Where John had almost expected a cute little tummy rounding up from those hips, he instead found abdominal muscles - prominent and strong enough to crack skulls.
He was almost drooling, ears deafened by the hologram's ministrations, by the furious pumping of his meat.
Cresting those olympian muscles were inexplicably jiggly and soft breasts, peaked themselves by large, erect nipples. Even just by standing in the Cryptum's air, John could see steam rising from Fred, outlining her like a target, like prey. The entire transformation had left her frame and jaw still wide, leaving John gaping at the Amazonian beauty before him.
The gape, Cortana noticed, was a worrying one. She thought to unify Blue Team - to ally them again for their next mission - and these sexual conquests had proven fruitful so far. They'd brought Kelly and Linda fully under John's carnal control, had given her such good biological feedback and matter to play with; but this was a risk. Fred had responded well to her challenge, her transformation, but Cortana waited with bated breath at John's reaction.
'Would he doubt me?' Cortana thought.
"John," Fred greeted, crossing her arms over her chest, snapping the Spartan from his analytical funk. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as the Chief's cock quivered at the sound of her voice.
"Fred," John said, not trusting himself to say anything clearer. "What happened? You look-"
"-Different, I know. It's the hair," she jested, motioning to the perfectly attended, slicked cut she'd received from Cortana. Fred's eyes landed on the construct, then back to Chief, narrowed, but still curious.
"Trust me when I say it'd look better with John's cum strewn throughout it, Spartan," the AI jested.
John turned to Cortana, raising a hand to hers, stopping the jacking of his cock. "Cortana, you did this to him?"
She balked, slowing her tender strokes to almost-unnoticeable undulations, still pressing herself against her lover, "I-"
"-I had a feeling she didn't tell you," Fred shrugged, staring down at herself, approaching the couple. "While I was kept up here to patch my leg, I had the pleasure of watching the goings-on, remotely. If you will," Fred motioned to one of the Cryptum's large walls, and with it, Cortana morphed it - showing a view of the ship's passengers, swapping then to a view of Linda.
"You kept an eye on me," John muttered, noticing a large package that Linda was carrying over her shoulder. She was clad in her revised armour, the same design that Cortana had graced him with.
"While you were sent to that ONI base to gather intel, I sent Linda to Earth as well, to pick up some tech the Created had caught wind of. It's something that could help us with our…" Cortana drifted, staring deep into John's eyes.
"Phoenix… Project," he finished for her. The Master Chief then did something he hadn't done since he was a child; he blushed. For the realisation hitting him that Fred had been keeping an eye on him, had seen him capture Halsey, return her, reunite with the Sangheili, and had seen him obliterate Kelly…
"I will say this, Cortana did offer to cut the transmission at certain points," Fred snorted, closing in on John, "and I refused."
"I was healing him, John. I took notes, as I do, and mapped his genome out, sequencing his DNA. And then, seeing Fred all lit up, seeing his entire body structure before me, well…"
She threw her hand upwards - and before them the current chamber changed. Gone were the screens, replaced by the rest of the starship's revised design; clean, white walls and bright lights. Gone was the feed of Linda, cutting away before her camera drifted over to two large pods. John then saw two new plates appear before him, showing him Cortana's progress, her thoughts, on display.
"You could… Change him," John read, shocked, eyes darting over the information quickly - much of it too advanced for him to understand. He looked back to Fred, reading his, her face again, for any signs of coercion - any blinks or twitches that outlined a trap.
Fred just smiled, smirked, nodding her head.
"Not without asking. I proposed then, a challenge," Cortana led on, hand tightening around John's cock, rubbing against him with her faux-body, shimmering. "Help me test out a little project I've been working on. A project that may or may not extend to others in the future," she lied, "and you may have a chance to share in it."
"Share?" John asked.
"At first I was proud of you John, so the interest was purely for the sake of yours and Kelly's health," Fred assured, raising her hands in the air, ignoring the thrum of her pussy, the quiet jitters she felt just staring at her teammate.
"Sure it was," Cortana began nibbling at Chief's ear, smirking at Fred, the Domain awash with vile pornography, foul foreplay that echoed throughout it's datacentres.
"Then I grew sickened," Fred added, placing her strong hands against his chest, gasping as she did so.
"Then curious," John surmised, growling again as he felt more of Cortana's hands from behind him, stroking every part of him.
"Then…" Cortana left the words hanging in the air, as they stood together. There was a crackle, a fire in that once stale air that permeated them, emanated from them. A fire that smelt to John like submission again; a challenge.
Truly, he'd be fine with "sharing" in the love Cortana was so actively propagating. He trusted in Fred, and knew that he, she at least cared for Kelly and Linda like he did. But to have his body changed, just at a chance to "share", felt like coercion to John. Sweet, melting coercion that his body was feeling as well - under pillowy, mewling assault by his love.
"I won't lie, I rejected this the first time she offered," Fred chuckled, hands dancing across John's pecs, eyes roaming 'bout his frame, breathing. "And then I got rid of those thoughts. Closed my eyes, and slept. But I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about how you handled Linda, and just…"
A pause - heartbeats in the air and breaths in the wind, the gentle hum of Cortana's eyes and ears and fingers, simply existing in the ship's halls. Another breath, and a chuckle from Fred. John loved the sound, if he'd gauged his own reaction - he was simply staring at her now, eyes wide and body ready, to fight or to fuck.
"Cortana, can you give us a bit of privacy?" John asked her.
The AI was taken aback, even if for a second, but obliged - erecting walls around the pair.
As Fred sighed, thanking John, hearing the hum disappear, she shook her head. "She can still hear us, you know."
"I'm well aware. I'm more concerned about you - do you feel any-"
"-John, I appreciate the concern, but… I made this choice. If I felt something bad, I would've let you know as soon as we stepped into this thing. If I had any doubts, I would've told you. And if I didn't want to, y'know, take this chance, then-"
"-I get it."
Another pause between them. John brought his arms to Fred's shoulders - thinking, just for a second, past his haze. Past the veil that directed his emotion - past the primal directive that allowed his dick to lead him, and hugged her. There was friction and a gasp between them, but Fred quickly linked her arms around John's back, resting her head on his shoulder, as he did her.
"She reminds me of Halsey. Beyond the looks. And when she offered me that chance, a chance at a new stage in life, past…"
John felt that weight back on his shoulders. "Past war. Past fighting."
"Part of me knew that years from now, when you'd gone off and found some planet to shack up on, I'd still be me, toiling. I'd still be working, fighting, even as my body failed around me. Maybe you'd visit, maybe Kelly would be by my side - but… I'm not so sure about what this future holds," she motioned to her body, her reacting body, and it's rising heat.
John took that to note - kept it safe with him, knowing that Cortana kept her eyes and ears on them still, and cherished it. He took to note the comparison between Halsey and his love - the woman who created him, created Fred, and his fellow Spartans. John took a deep breath, and broke from their embrace, as he felt Fred's arms lift from him.
"I get to have my fun. And besides," Fred continued, "I've been advised by our mutual friend that I can swap this with ease. Maybe a little bit of heat, cold here and there, but…"
"Low risk, high reward," John chucked, bring his hand in the air for Fred to clasp - gripping it tight. They shared a smile, as the Chief placed his hands upon the walls surrounding them. They fell with ease, and Cortana awaited them, phasing back into reality with a grin. The challenge, John remembered, of course it's a sparring match.
"So, are you two going to keep a girl waiting, or is Freddie here getting cold feet?" she teased, clearing her throat. "That is, if you are having doubts, I can-"
"No, none here. I figure John's had it too easy - he could use some cold feet on his chest, on the ground," Fred taunted him, turning heel and walking away - caring not that his eyes then snapped to her phat, jiggling rump, caring not that the walls grew beyond them - into an arena.
"Put your money where your mouth is, Spartan, or I might put it to use myself," he warned her, lips turned up in a knowing smile. Cortana positively clapped, emulating an echo of their past with their surroundings - the proving grounds of the Spartan II training program. If either combatant noticed it, they didn't note it, instead just squaring each other up in a dual-circle.
"Some ground rules before we begin, Spartans," Cortana advised, "if either of you want to leave the little "competition" after the spar has been won, then just say "homeworld". Other than that, fight hard and fight filthy!"
They were both energised by the words. John by acts, memories, Fred by observations. He was rigid, dick spilling now with precum, thoughts abandoning all worry, all stress, all doubt of Cortana's plans and musings. There was no time for it now - and he'd allow himself some time to think of it after he'd had his fun. John too noticed Fred's body reacting to him, synergising with a little dribble of juice from her pussy, fluids seeping onto the floor as she tensed, prepared herself for battle.
They ran, clashed - John preparing himself for Fred's worst. She'd always excelled at close quarters combat, and even now, without her knife, she struck swiftly. Two punches flew to either side of John's ribs, both connecting without a hitch, and we're followed up with a knee to his groin. Ducking into the attack, John brought his combined fists down upon her leg, bruising it, and tackled Fred to the ground, ignoring the fluids they exchanged.
Among sweat and instinct did they grapple, taken off-guard by lack of armour, but fighting nonetheless. They couldn't register the fact that they were naked, lest the other win. Nor could they take the millisecond to admire the other's form. All John could afford was to lock his legs around Fred's, keeping her wriggling, writhing in place. Struggling to keep his legs clamped tight around his teammate, John then struck her - bringing his hand down upon her ass like Thor's hammer to a storm cloud.
Fred allowed herself one squeak before she twisted, threw an open palm into John's sternum, releasing herself from his lock. She beat down even recognising the sensation of heat upon her backside - the sheer impression his hand left upon her. Instead she blocked, dodged, leaping up from the ground before John could, stomping hard on where he'd been.
"You're faster. Stronger, too," John noted, rolling quickly.
Fred could only blush. "Don't forget the breasts."
True to her word, John's eyes darted to her chest again, mesmerised by their jiggling, how they begged to be fondled. And in that darting Fred found her weakness, and struck again. Palm to chest, then to his leg, then-
-He took the hits. Flipped the stakes and bent her over, jutting her rear out. With one clean blow to her leg, he let her stance crumble, and took advantage of it - slickening his hands with sweat and sliding his sneaky fingers deep into her pussy, testing her. A moan was all he heard before she rearranged that hold - flipping John on his ass with a smooth, controlled motion.
Don't react to it, she mused. Don't let him know you liked it.
Their scent, their stances were unmistakable. The scent of Spartan sex was in the air - almost tangible to the prying eyes of the AI audience. It was moments before it would manifest, before this spar would turn from erotic to pornographic. John took Fred's idleness - her reserve in thought to tackle her again, pinning her to the ground.
Utilising his weight, he laid upon her and fucked her with his fingers - arm pinned to her chest, making her breaths short, airy. Fred brought a knee up to his head - cracking him sharply as he recoiled, and rolled, pinning him down herself. With his muscly gluteus presented to her, she retaliated in kind, her other hand death-gripping his cock.
"Two can play at that game, Chief."
And so he resolved himself. Don't cum. Don't give in. Strike back. Will was a hard thing to come by, but it came to him. John relied upon it as he thought of Cortana - past the deft fingers entering his ass, frantically milking him. Perhaps it was not wrong to think of such wonders during a battle like this, he thought.
As Fred had him pinned - had his cock by the hand - Chief relaxed. He let her fingers pump him, preparing for the load which would cake the floors of the Cryptum for a time to come. But it didn't come. To John, that would've been a waste, a mess of a good moneyshot, one that belonged on Fred's face and in her hair, as Cortana said. And he drew strength from that. Coveted it, controlled it. A strength in seeing himself as the all-inseminating male among Blue Team. A strength that powered him. One he used in breaking free, kicking back roughly at Fred's chest.
They broke, he stood, and that was it - no room for argument. He'd handle this as seriously as he'd handle any mission. Precum oozed from the tip of his dick as he stood over the keeling Spartan, and he let the throbs drive him. Ba-bum went the beat of his heart, flushing heat to where it didn't belong, and the Chief followed it. Fred went to attack him again, going low, but John stopped her with a one-two punch to her chest, targeting the back of her knee.
To Cortana, in real-time, the exchange only lasted a few seconds. But she saw the motions play out as the Spartans did; perhaps slower still, and felt that hardlight heart of hers skip. Ba- it went, with no bum, until John locked Fred in place again. A chop to the back of the knee - a cry of pain from Fred, followed by a sharp smack.
"Let's try this again," John said.
Perhaps the juiciest sight to grace them was a Spartan's buttocks. A testament to the medical sciences of the modern age, and further testament to the insane wiles of an unshackled AI. Where once she fought, now Fred cried, attempting to worm her way out of John's grip, trying to escape from his powerful, unrelenting slaps. He went into a rhythm, with one arm wrapped around her waist as she bent over again, and refused to let up. Smack, and his hand got slicker, wetted from sweat again. Smack, and he swore he could see his teammate's pussy squirt, just a tad. Smack, and John spoke.
"I'm not stopping until you submit."
"T-To being spanked!? Never!"
"Suit yourself."
Smack.
Smack.
Smack!
Cortana smiled, as pride swelled within her. Everything would come together, she felt. As Fred's face fell and John flipped Fred, Cortana just knew John would win. He would do the same, or much worse to Atriox. With no restrictions, no limits, her champion would dominate the Jiralhanae past the point of breaking, into the point of shattering. A former warlord, made moot.
Fred laid on her back - and found herself pressed by John's weight again. He sat on her. She struck now that her arms had a better vantage, but found they had no effect. Yes they bruised him, but those bruises meant nothing to him - he simply moved as if he weren't impeded, as if he couldn't be stopped. It made her rowdy. The way he hiked her legs up and dug his fingers into her weeping pussy, the way he barked at her to get her hands onto her cock, it drove her insane.
They could finally focus on one another. John could bring his face against the impeccably smooth calves of his teammate as he fingered her, resisting her attempts at a leg-lock. His stubble ground into them, and he shivered with delight. Finally, past the reserved, near-silent breaths, John could hear Fred moan, too; like voice-cracking whistles through the air. He didn't care about time, about speed anymore - he simply fucked her with his digits, smacking her jiggling butt with his free hand.
"F-F-Fuck~," Fred cried, already feeling the strength leave her - feeling her lock crumble at John's unbudging resolve. She instead tried then to shift his weight using her arms, but felt them too, give in. Hope was dwindling, and she knew that no matter the outcome, she wouldn't be able to feel her ass in the morning. And thanks to those fingers, whatever heat the Chief generated paled in comparison to the rising, knotting, twisting sparks in her core.
"Get those hands on my cock, or get that tongue working, Spartan!"
She ignored him, trying to hold out. Trying not to marvel at how he'd changed, and how Cortana had granted them such a boon. Fred tried her hardest not to cum, knowing that if she did, she might not ever want to turn back - that she'd love this sensation too much, that she'd love being played with. She began counting the threads of muscle in the back - trying to - oh no - focus on the strips of black on his skin, used to network with the new armour. Fred struck the ground - oh fuck~ - harder, and harder, until eventually she felt that heat near her.
"O-Oh, fmmff~!"
"One chance, Spartan - first to reach the finish line loses!"
She felt his body marry hers - as he shifted his body up, his gargantuan shaft and monstrous sac just dangling an inch above her. She felt their lab-grown assets collide in a sensual imagery that Cortana was savouring. John nearly lost himself as he felt her tongue strike him - as, without provocation, she sucked, kissed. Her hands wrapped around his member, and pumped angrily, hastily - as she took those testes to the mouth, trying her damndest to fit just one inside her cavity.
John knew she was his already. He finally brought his head down to her juicy, sparkling-wet mess of a cunt, and licked at her. His tongue played with her clit as his fingers worked almost independently from him now - reaching a third and a fourth phalange in without resistance. Schlick, schlock, schlick it went, as it coupled with the unmistakable sound of suction-to-flesh, as their moaning, sliding, fucking soundscape played like an opera to their audience.
"Harder, Spartan!" John roared to her, adding the distinct trickle of moisture to their concert.
"Fk, fk, fk, fffffk!"
And there it was - the moment Cortana had been waiting for. The moment that made the Domain spark with trillions of possibilities - the moment that made her fall in love with John all over again. The sound of hacking, following a wet pop as Fred then moaned into the air. The finish for Cortana; their grand finale. She could see every muscle tense in the woman's body as she came, squirting herself silly, arcing her pussy's juices metres in front of her.
And then Cortana saw her attempt at resistance again. John prolonged it - didn't stop fucking her with his fingers, and Fred responded in kind with worry, with just a hint of fear in her voice. She pleaded, struggling to move John again, but he just didn't stop.
"Submit," he told her.
"N-no! N-ahn-never!"
Smack!
"Submit."
"Ah~! Y-You still h-haven't won, John! I-I can… I can…"
Smack!
"Submit!"
Fred screamed, and Cortana ensured that the soundbyte, it's video, and the biometric readings would be forever etched into the threads of her mind. It was a release in purest form; the kind of sound that clawed its way out of a throat and displayed anger, submission, passion, and love, all the same. The kind of scream that said to John "I submit" without him needing to hear it. It earmarked another, fouler orgasm - an encore performance.
It was then, and only then, that John relented. Turning around, with his knees planted into the ground either side of Fred's head, he let his meat hang, dribbling its pre onto her face. And then John lowered himself. Paf.
"Submit, Spartan. You've lost."
His teammate's voice died, and she laid, writhing, wriggling. It took her a moment before realising that heat was back, in force, dripping something over her. She could feel it rise to her chest - another heat, reddening the skin on her upper body - and let a few exasperated tears fall. They were both caked in sweat, though John wasn't panting like she was, wasn't as put out.
And then his words caught up with her. She could barely control herself, let alone respond. So, John laid his cock upon her face. And had to fight the feeling of her softness, of the submission he felt from the Spartan beneath him. He gently laid a hand upon her face, stroking her cheek, and crooned at her, with a smile.
"Submit."
In her last act of defiance, Fred shook her head - smiling back, ignoring the sweltering organ's musk upon her mug. Don't breathe it in, and it was too late, for she'd given up. Don't touch it, she thought, and her hands were already rising to marvel at it - to marvel at John. It was intoxicating to her. Then Fred gasped as John moved it off her face, lifting the rod off and gently lowering it again, this time on her lips. Paf.
John spoke the command no more, and increased the intensity of the cock-shots, starting with a gentle thrum against the amazon-like beauty, ramping up to slapping her with it. There would be no room for shame in their future, and he knew Cortana felt the same; if Fred had any, he had to be rid of it. It would just impede them, ruin their fun, keep them one step away from each other.
Thud, thud, thud.
Fred's smile broke as the scent became unbearably strong. The perspiration, the pre's funk, and the musk of the dominant-dong overpowered her psyche, rendered resistance moot. The slaps were just added enjoyment, and she licked at her lips for their taste, finding herself wanting more. She tried just once to push him off her again, but found those hands lingering upon John's body - now idling on him instead of fighting.
"I-I," she gasped as the dribble of precum slipped past her lips, a drop landing on her tongue's tip, "I…"
John's hand on her cheek then slid to her throat, simply laying around it. It wasn't to hurt her, wasn't to sully her; he just wanted to make sure the Spartan knew her place. The sweat congealed around his body, and he found himself dripping upon his lover from more spots than one. With each strike against her face, he found the wetness pooling and splashing; steam rising from their bodies and shooing away with the impact.
"Say it."
"...I submit."
What followed next, Cortana would never forget. It awoke something in John; perhaps stirring the primordial ascendancy latent in him, in his character. A glint appeared in his eyes that wasn't quite there before, and the AI knew, just knew her plan would succeed. In the instant Fred submitted, Cortana snapped to them, appearing as though she was lying by the submissive's side. Without saying a word, John let his hand linger back on Fred's cheek, and smiled at her.
He slid down, parted her legs, entering her with little resistance. Fred came again, trying to speak, to make a noise that didn't sound ridiculous. Simply watching in awe, Cortana cradled the Spartan's head to her bosom, and grinned. Three more of her appeared - copies spawning instantly - and flanked the two. As with Linda, she whispered to her performers, her lovers.
"What a good little bitch Fred turned out to be."
"Aren't you glad you took me up on my challenge, Fred?"
"Imagine John - every mission you ever went on, he was lusting after you. So, make up for lost time."
"You're beautiful, Fred. Doesn't having a pussy feel so god-damn good? Just let John in, wrap your legs around him - yeah - like that."
"You made Kelly swear like a sailor. Can you make Fred purr like a kitten? Our little Freddie-fucktoy…"
"This could be your life, all the time. Imagine waking every day after all our missions are over, with John's big, strong arms around you - with his cock buried deep, deep in your asshole."
John fucked the spirit out, and then back into his teammate. He gave Fred her second wind, her reaffirmation that this choice was right - that failing the challenge was right. Her womanhood, tight and wet and boiling as it was, proved this to her. Being with him - with John, felt right. She gave in, and then some - becoming naught but a sweating, mewling heap on the floor who locked eyes with her dominator.
And, as he came first, in the deepest part of his lover, John knew he had made the right choice. He broke his gaze with Fred to smile at Cortana, and she nodded. To spend each day conquering and loving those he cherished, those he protected and those that would protect him; that was now John's goal. To lose himself in the pleasure of being their ruler, their king - to plunder the pussies of those aboard - he would fight for this. His cock hardened like nothing else, and his balls churned as he delivered a single, mind-breaking load into the Spartan's womb.
"S-s-so… S-so much," Fred squeaked.
"He's not done yet," Cortana advised her.
He felt so fucking hard inside her. Fred could barely handle the heat that coated her insides, and John kept delivering more and more in. Awash her mind was, with torrents of pleasure racking her brain, spewing forth from sorely-repressed stretches. John felt this way too, but kept his eyes on her, smiling still. They nearly lost themselves as he pulled out of her, cock still spurting it's thick, virile loads across deflowered flesh, splashing up her chest, neck, and face.
"G-god," she choked, feeling so weak as John stood over her, yet strengthened. As if, side-by-side, they could take on the galaxy. "I… I could… Get used to this…"
"So," John began, voice unshaken by his perpetuated orgasm, "would you ever want to go back? Or do you want to stay like this, with me?"
"...I want to be yours. I... Don't care if I'm packing the right or wrong equipment, John…"
"Three holes are better than two. Your mouth, your ass… They already belong to him. Would you deny John your dripping little honeypot? Would you deny him those big, gorgeous breasts?" Cortana whispered to her.
"And neither do I," he affirmed, "you chose to submit. I own Fred, I own you. Whatever you happen to be."
Using the last of her strength, eyes sparkling, Fred launched up, linking her arms around the back of John's neck, and smashed their lips together - a further consummation of their union. Cortana balked, jealousy flaring, but let them embrace, her other selves observing with gasps. Believing in their instincts, the Spartans shared a sloppy, slickened kiss; spreading their saliva 'cross the other's mouths. Fred licked at John as he nibbled on her upper lip, like they were creatures of baser drives.
They broke, and opened their eyes; not even realising they'd been closed in that embrace.
"You are mine," John said.
"...And I am yours."
Cortana found herself mouthing the words alongside Fred, and sighed, truly sighed in blissful content. Soon that would be her, she thought. Soon the secrets of flesh would give way entirely, and she'd be the mistress of a body, perfectly real, perfectly fuckable. But she instead settled now for a kiss to them both - on Fred's cheek, to John's jaw. And as she finalised her viewings, Fred slipped from consciousness, exhaustion swiftly catching up with her.
John stood, picking the Spartan up with ease. Giving Cortana a kiss, he had her create a bed for the new woman, and laid her down gently. He had wished he was holding something of Fred's, a trophy, perhaps, but action alone would have to suffice. He owned her. Once the Banished were destroyed, once this new war of theirs was over, he'd let Fred know every day, in different ways, how he owned her. John's mind grew impatient with the possibilities, with how he'd show his love to her, but he reigned those thoughts in.
"O-Oh," Cortana perked up, "we're making a course correction."
"We're heading straight for the Ark, aren't we?" John asked.
"Yes-wait, how did you-"
"-Call it a hunch. What's our ETA?"
Cortana had to actively scramble the thought of John snapping from sex-machine to Spartan from the Domain's halls. It was too much to focus on, made her systems too damn unruly. God, how she adored him.
"U-Uh… Erm… T-Two days, uh…48 hours, sorry."
He neared her, placing a hand against her holo-cheek, "you okay?"
"F-fuck, yes, I'm fine," she shook herself, smiling, laughing with him. "S-Sorry, all of… All of that - what you did to Fred, it's just making it's way to my head, so-"
"-I got it," his grin grew, and he made no further comment, kissing her again.
"I-I'll create you somewhere to train. Once Fred's up I'll make sure she and the rest of Blue Team join for some exercise. A-And, uh… Thel's offered to join you against the Banished," she lied, right through those digital teeth.
"Hm?" John asked, pausing. "Good. Let's deliver him back safely to Sanghelios once we're done. And get the others to join us for training. I get the feeling we'll need it."
(Elsewhere...)
Earth had been an eye-opener for Linda. At first, upon stepping foot into the Cryptum, she felt dread; not knowing if Cortana would be truly rampant, if her insanity spelt doom upon all the galaxy. The way she controlled the Forerunner sphere reminded Linda of her time on Onyx; only this time the mistress of the domain was present; no goddess out of her seat. Linda had then heard the beginnings of a monologue she gave John, then, silence. She'd been separated from the rest of Blue Team, and was given a one on one herself.
Cortana talked. And talked, and, when she discovered that Linda had zoned out, finally relented. Giving her time to breathe, to assess the potential threat that lay before them, Linda requested transparency from the construct. For she knew that Cortana was charming John - perhaps not abusing their love - but wielding it to her advantage, ensuring he didn't leave her side.
The goal she was given, and what she was assured that John had been advised of, was nothing less than the capture of the remaining heads of ONI on Earth. Linda didn't balk at the assignment, but she was surprised to learn that equated to just two people. And she expected something worse on the post-war roads of Terra, truth be told - blood and riots in the streets, shattered seas and scorching, cutting winds of glass - but she found something else.
There was peace. Monitored peace, yes, but it appeared the Guardians in orbit were to protect humanity from threats external to them, not themselves. The UNSC extended aide support where it could, policing where needed, attempting to get by without ONI's dark hand.
There was hope, as well. A single Guardian had patrolled over Eastern Africa, purifying the plasma-scorched lands in a hope to take back a piece of Earth from the Covenant War. From the last she saw of it - through a monitor in some dank, dark ONI bunker, it was doing well.
Coupling with John was a risk to their friendship, to the team's composition and clarity, but Linda took that chance amidst her meditation. She listened as Cortana spoke, broke down the meaning behind the construct's words, extrapolated a plan beyond what Cortana was telling her, and leapt at it.
Then, after their bout of lovemaking, upon Earth, Linda placed more stock into her trust of the AI. Yes, Linda did have two body-capsules attached to her back thanks to the AI's assignment, and yes, she had liberated some vile technology that ONI was working on, but upon placing them on the ground of the Cryptum on her return from Earth, she felt right.
She spoke, directly to Cortana, "I have to ask-"
"-Yes, my judgment is clouded against Parangosky and Osman," Cortana answered directly, appearing in front of one of the Cryptum's ports, scanning the two pods her new captures were in. "But this solidifies the Created's hold over Earth. The UNSC won't fight us, so we will cooperate with them in keeping humanity safe. ONI, on the other hand, would subvert us, see us destroyed and made insane."
"Are you sure bringing their weapon here was a good idea? Looks like a massive EMP bomb." Linda asked, placing the device down next to the bodies.
"Hm," Cortana brought her hands over it, gasping a bit as she determined it's yield within milliseconds. "Now I am. Feels like this thing's strong enough to reach across the world - like they were-"
"-Building a wall to keep us out," Linda surmised.
"Or to keep humanity locked in. At the strength of this thing, I'm not sure if any human device would even work properly if this thing came online," Cortana shuddered.
She rose, eyes narrowed at the pods, and thanked Linda, clapping a hand to her shoulder. The Spartan didn't react, instead assessing the cargo before her. Orders were hard things to question, being raised as she was, but curiosity weighed upon her. Weighed upon the fact that she knew John had been sent out; likely capturing Halsey in the process.
"What do you plan on doing with them?"
Cortana could tell there was doubt in the Spartan's voice. Past the armour and the new designs of her helmet, there was a look that betrayed a feeling of Linda's past. Was it… Regret? No, Cortana thought, it went deeper, so much deeper, almost suppressed under all of Linda's cool, calm exterior. It bled into scorn, which bled into anger, then into rage, pure and furious.
The AI then smiled. Perhaps she could be candid. If not, then, it was best not to think about.
"...I plan on humiliating them. I plan on regenerating Parangosky; reversing time's effect on her body until she's nothing more than a twenty-something with the body of a goddess. Then, with them fully aware, next to Doctor Halsey, I plan on punishing them. Oh, I want to do so many things to them, but the goal ends up the same; I want to break them into mindful, sorry little cocksleeves whose sole purpose in life is to pleasure the best of humanity, and clean the mess up afterwards."
Silence.
"And, in case you were wondering, that "best of humanity" includes you, Linda."
A beat passed them, and Linda simply continued unpacking what equipment she brought with her, storing weapons within the Cryptum's walls. Cortana waited, and waited, eyes trailing the Spartan as she left her, stopping at a portal.
Linda turned her head to the side, the bodies in her periphery, "savour it. Show me."
Oh, how Cortana loved that Spartan-II seriousness.
It was a simple matter now of throwing them in the same area as Halsey, though, Cortana made sure they couldn't see each other yet. If they didn't wake up upon exiting the pods, then a kick would do. Cortana began sanctioning off the quadrant of the Cryptum she dubbed to herself "the brig" and cordoned Parangosky opposite to Halsey, leaving Osman alone in a cell. Whilst John was either busy training or returning to sample the tightness of Fred's cute ass, Cortana would interrogate.
John wouldn't abide by this, no, not yet. He would take a few more leaps in depravity before Cortana would give him the role of punisher; though she was sure he'd be fit for it nonetheless. He'd received Fred well; but what of the Sangheili? Would he, in a spur of clarity, question the jump from ally to lover? Cortana mused herself with these questions; for the difficulty did not lie in morphing flesh and crafting bone, sewing nerve and pouring blood - it lied in simply nudging a mind.
She loved John. She fell in love with the stoic, quiet man who let nothing stop him. The man, not Spartan, who kept his promises. And across the quadrillions of calculations that scoured the Domain's expanse, Cortana determined breaking him was not an option. Changing him, oh-so-slightly, she allowed herself.
She surmised that he would've reached these points anyway - the dominance, the drive to fornicate - if they'd connected like they did. He would've controlled her, played with her, loved her all the same. But now, with the Created at her side - her grasp grew greater. If not just herself and John, why not others? If not just the Domain as her pleasure-pocket, why not whole ships? And if not just controlling his lovers, why wouldn't Cortana harvest hundreds, thousands - so that John could break them?
She drew pleasure from it. The calculations, the acquisitions, the process of the breaking. From the act of transformation - the act of bending a body to her will. Humans were simple enough, and she wasn't getting bored of them, per se - but Cortana was running out of time to keep the Sangheili on board without raising suspicion.
To have the Arbiter and company under her roof now was a blessing, and it had only helped to solidify John's trust in her. They were saving comrades from ONI - the very same who had sparked civil unrest within the Sangheili, but there was more to be done with them.
She wanted them changed. Moulded, as she told Halsey. While they paced, sparred and wandered about the ship, Cortana monitored them, their bodies, and recorded everything in detail - harvesting data and comparing it to Forerunner records of the race. Once she'd found a rare female specimen - composed an age ago during an exploratory relay onto their homeworld - it was a matter of creating theoretical copies of her, then grafting those upon the Elites.
The delicate workings of this however needed to coincide with John's growing lust. Too quickly, and he'd question it - reject them, and defy Cortana. But easing him in - giving him his team - she had to time it just right. Even now Thel Vadam's doubts grew, Cortana could sense it - the quickening of his breaths, through to the speeding of his blood.
The Elites in their company would not suffer - and Cortana extended that grace to the rest of their race that dared not attack them - so she would keep them sane. Sharp. She'd make them stronger than they were, tick back their clocks just enough so give them an edge over Atriox's brood, to help John. And then at the end, when Atriox would laid before her, beaten and defeated, she would break him, as well.
With John. For John.
It was easy to overstep now, she felt. Now was the time to sow the seeds of their bottom-feeders; the cock-buffers and cum-cleaners who'd build the foundation upon which she'd stand, in mere days from now. In Serin's cell she created basic amenities, and most importantly, linked a screen to the goings on of the Cryptum; namely the records of Spartan sex occuring.
Cortana appeared in the containment chamber, in front of the waking director. It appeared as though Linda caught her in the middle of their day-to-day operations, if her military dressings were anything to go by. She likened the two Spartans, and, armed by ONI's records and Halsey's ramblings, picked them apart. Serin was a reject, what Halsey had deemed a failure, and disappeared cleanly off the radar after her supposed "death" by ascension.
The awakened AI could see it now - the musculature to Serin's form, the prime body that belied wicked intervention. The history in the hardships her body endured, and in the way she was raised. Cortana would've given her sympathy, if not for her acts; what she chose to do after being uplifted and vanished. She was stunning to look at, holding an amazonian, if furious visage, even whilst waking.
"You're within a Cryptum," Cortana told her, as Serin began to blink, to shoot her eyes wide open. "Abducted as you were all those years ago by ONI."
"What? Why-"
"-Because you would attack the Created. Because Parangosky would not die. And, because you would sow strife in a galaxy ravaged by war."
Serin's eyes narrowed at Cortana, and she stood straight, fixing herself up in an attempt to hide her feelings, to stow away any fear or doubt. She saw a door in front of her, which led into a hallway, and surrounding her the clean walls of a starship; so very unlike UNSC design. She was a prisoner now, she surmised, but she hadn't been screened after the rogue Spartan had taken her. Osman felt her distress beacon within her pocket still, as well as her other belongings. The cloaking tech the Spartan used was able to evade even BB's own all-seeing eyes!
Osman finally began to recognise the design of the AI in front of her, and held back that rage at seeing Halsey's smug face thrown back at her. Though it had been changed somehow, she knew that mug when she saw it, and felt her skin bubble all the same.
"What do you want with me?" Osman asked, taking her eyes off the AI, stalking around her cell.
"That word, "want", implies there's an option, Serin. So assuming. I don't want anything from you - you've forced my hand. So now what I'm going to do - whether you want it or not - is punish you."
The way it spoke drove Serin's blood to ice, and she stopped in her tracks. "Are you working for Halsey?"
"No. I've locked that miserable cunt away until she's ready to serve me."
Serin couldn't help but let out a small, dark chuckle. "Right. The leader of the Created before me, and her number one mission is to capture some old bat and myself. Not the best use of resources, I must say."
Cortana just smiled at her. "Again, so assuming. No - my number one priority is so much more silly than that. You are stepping stone, Çelik. A stepping stone who would've gotten lodged under my foot and crushed if I hadn't removed you."
"And yet here I stand. You've no doubt having captured Parangosky as well. Do you really think she'll let you take her alive?" Serin asked, with a shake of her head. Internally her heart lurched at hearing her dead name - how much did this thing know?
"Don't think me daft enough to miss the classic suicide escape route. I know about Parangosky's pill-behind-the-tooth, just as I know about the distress beacon you just hailed," the AI responded, smirking.
Serin paused, but caught herself, and continued meandering about the room. Don't acknowledge her, don't acknowledge it, she thought - the AI may have had control of their ship - but it needed the Spartan to capture her - there was no way it could harm her directly. Instead Serin bided her time, constructing a plan as she waited for the AI to reveal its cards.
"The UNSC Infinity! Wait, no… It's hovering little orbiter - there's a relay… oh! You're bouncing it off a fighter - a Sabre, specifically - with the callsign… "Hermes". A messenger," Cortana noted quickly, so very quick, clearly frightening Osman.
The ONI Commander stopped, and stared back at Cortana. Having completed her assessment of the room, she found nothing. No patterns to denote the ship she was on, no leakages or vents or panels, and no identifying features on the walls except for two benches, what looked like a bedframe, a toilet, and the exit door. She was trapped. And Cortana had just traced an extraplanetary ping and hijacked it to identify it's sender, receiver, and relayer.
"I'm going to make a presumption that Veronica Dare and Edward Buck are on that ship, Çelik. Doesn't smell like your Ferrets, though, I'm sure they'll pop up somewhere among my ranks soon enough," Cortana noted, measuring Serin's blood pressure as a response. Controlled though it was, the AI found truth in her predictions after tracking her micro-expressions as well, and hummed. "It's a shame, I liked those two."
Serin shook her head, standing firm in front of the glowing woman. "Begin your torture then. The Infinity will rain down ash upon this ship, putting an end to your empire."
Cortana blinked, scoffing. "Serin, you misunderstand. You haven't ordered the Infinity to track and bombard our location, like the original message said. You've ordered them to reconnect and dock with us."
Osman's stomach dropped, and her blood ran cold. Dear god, no.
"I was going to dedicate a second or two to determining Infinity's location after I'd dealt with the Banished, but you've led them right to me. On top of spurring a civil war with the Sangheili, you've now just sentenced nearly 20000 people to be bred like pigs upon docking with us," Cortana laughed.
Serin's fingers darted for her transponder's cancellation button - but found nothing but ash in her pockets. A realisation hit her. She didn't need to be screened upon entry - everything could be read by the AI. There was no concept of eyes or terminals to this thing - whatever was inside their ship, Cortana seemed to be able to monitor it, from any angle. On top of that, she could see messages before they'd been sent, decode them, re-write them, and send them?
ONI's head allowed herself one expletive. "Fuck."
"I haven't even told you my goal, and, well, I'm just so eager to share it with you, Serin."
Images appeared on the walls now. Screens. On Osman's left was Parangosky and Halsey - though both of them were looking worse for wear. Halsey was separated from the former ONI chief, strapped to some unearthly sex-machine. It didn't look too intense, but Serin surmised it wasn't for breaking her - not yet anyway. She looked younger, run ragged, but alive, and if her expression was anything to by, Halsey was trying not to lose herself to insanity.
On Osman's right was the Master Chief. One whom she'd spent time with when they were younger - training side by side - before their childhoods were ripped from them. He was suited up in armour that mimicked UNSC design, but only on the surface-level, and fighting amidst a simulation, an exercise room. John's screen then flickered between the members of Blue Team - the Spartan that captured her, Linda, and two others. They were drenched in semen; one just waking, the other still sorely passed out, recovering and resting.
Serin recognised both faces, maybe one name, but couldn't pick the last Spartan - the one with the short cut hair and dreamy eyes.
"I'm going to bend the galaxy to my knee. And where I can't extend my hand, where I can't reach or can't act, then John will do so in my stead. He and the other Spartans, my warriors, will bring people such as you before me, like offerings. And from these offerings I will craft something new. Something beautiful. I will restore life where life has been lost. I will punish those who escaped it - who deserve it - and who dare attack me," Cortana spoke, sashaying towards Serin.
She backed up, out of instinct, but aligned herself, and stopped, standing her ground against the AI. It hasn't won yet. Keep calm. Find a way out. Escape. Save Parangosky.
"And John… I will grant him many things. Roles, tasks, boons, concubines, lovers. Pretty little things, like yourself. I will punish those using him as my tool, as a divine," Cortana whispered, flickering from view to dart behind Serin - attempting to get a rise out of her.
"-Horny," she mewled, gone again.
"-Insatiable," she continued, from left to right.
"-Unstoppable," Cortana appeared again in front of Serin.
"Champion," four voices echoed around Serin's head, and she gasped, feeling her clothes disintegrate around her. Like her transponder they fell to their base components, falling to the ground like ash. It left her bare, bare to the world and bare for the AI's billion-seeing-organs to witness. Her hands went to cover herself immediately, protecting her breasts and mons, cursing Cortana, feeling anger and shame wash over her.
"You… You will regret this," Serin huffed.
Cortana ignored the comment. "Your punishment will take time to begin. I'll grant you a warning before it happens, I feel you that's due. But for now, enjoy the view, Serin. I will shatter your world as you know it, but what awaits you after your punishment is a life of leisure, of pleasure. Keep that in mind."
And with that, Cortana faded from view. Serin knew she wasn't gone, wasn't truly deafened to her - and roared with rage, striking a wall. As if on cue, Cortana appeared on the screen in front of Parangosky, hand outstretched. Osman began regulating her breaths, ignoring the slowly, surely twisting heat in her upper chest. She went around the room one more time, trying her best to ignore the streams the AI had presented her, eyeing a weakness.
(Elsewhere…)
Arthritis. High blood pressure. Extensive damage to inner ear-drums. Macular degeneration, rendering vision impaired. Cortana evaluated the nonagenarian on the ground before her, and continued with her findings. Bruises, already deep and purple from Linda's handling, no doubt. Parangosky was an old woman, looking thin, but wiry - with a calm but furious visage almost carved into her face. Frail. Near death, even though she operated otherwise. There were the typical issues involving a damaged form, but Cortana thought, scrambling for data on prehistoric humanity that had been preserved in the Domain's winding paths.
She needed a baseline - mimicking the Spartans for now - but Cortana knew there were going to be discrepancies between the uplifted humans and their normal counterparts. As with the Sangheili, she found more humans among the Domain, thousands more. Taken from ancient wars, Cortana picked a body most matching Parangosky's younger form, and began merging the two.
Many hands made light work. And it took much of that work to rejuvenate a body. Halsey was easier by comparison - as her body had not been as temporally ravaged. It would take more power, more matter, and more intense and inner workings to bring Parangosky up to standard. So Cortana started with the building blocks.
Blood. As the AI's hands laid upon the skin of the former ONI chief, they penetrated her, fixing in via pores in the skin, absorbing into the bloodstream like plasma. Cortana delved into the slowed and decayed vascular tunnels of the prisoner and located the heart, cheering. From there, she repaired valves, the aorta, ventricles and the weakened walls of Parangosky's heart, until it beat healthily.
She kept things slow. Too much change too quickly, and the prisoner would suffer shock, perhaps die. And Cortana couldn't have that. She couldn't let Parangosky escape as the Gravemind did. So she continued, once the Admiral's skin flushed with clearer colour. As oddly-coloured fingers gained their natural hue, and as the Admiral's breathing stabilised, just a touch.
Next was her lungs. She needed oxygen, needed to pant like a dog should the situation called for it. Cortana moved a little faster now, thanks to her previous efforts. Clearing of any contaminants, fusing shut weaker membranes, and setting tracts back on track followed, leaving the organ regular, leaving the prisoner's breaths easing.
Bones. Joints, after years of use, had been rubbed raw - and their density saw dispersal, leaving the Admiral frail. This would not do, as a shattered hip would make for an awful love-making session. So deeper her fingers went - deeper did Cortana plunge into the ONI head. She inserted tiny things into her right femur, devices capable of producing their own marrow from waste latent in the body, and let them work; supplying a starting meal of chemical mixtures. Cortana then replicated this across all other bones in Margaret's body. She would not break easy, she would be able withstand John's rougher play.
Nerves. The madam would need to feel her punishment. She would need pains and pleasures alike to run across her skin, inside her very core, her cunt, so Cortana restrung them. Like a broken instrument did she restring them - shutting down sections of Parangosky's body bit by bit as frayed nerves returned anew.
Muscle. At the very least, she would need to squeeze her cunt around John's cock. She would need a strong grip to combat that girth of the meaty monster, and it'd help her not be entirely useless - overpowering or dominating Halsey if she needed, if John demanded. So, with fresh blood and a steady supply of oxygen, confident that the bones could handle the weight and then some, Cortana massaged the muscles of Margaret from within. Injecting more matter, more chemical cocktails as needed, Cortana future-proofed the Admiral's body by means of an automated muscle-agitator, designed on the spot to fit her form.
Even when resting, her body would improve. Would heal. Would withstand time itself, and say "no". All to serve. All to endure her punishment.
The rest, Cortana quickened. Skin, filled and stretched. Pinched back into place - leaving enough sag for a glorious, bouncing body. Fat injected here and there, based on Cortana's preference. Eyes, remade. Ears rebalanced, eardrums repaired. Nose attuned to the scent of semen. Brain matter, inspected, but not toyed with. Cortana found the Admiral's mind to be oddly sharp for her age, youthful to an extent, and certainly not in need of meddling.
All in all, Cortana loved her own work. She took a step back, and let her systems automate in the body of the prisoner; watching her morph and shift and breath beneath her. She went from 90 to 40, perhaps even younger, and was left ready to be used. There were more bodily issues and diseases to tackle, but nothing that warranted Cortana's immediate attention. Parangosky's body was now entirely at her beck and call - she would fix the rest of her as it was needed, or as it served her whim.
Cortana then awoke the Admiral. Her eyes snapped open, and she instantly inspected herself, her surroundings. Cortana let her assess the situation, but held her in place - erecting a structure to contain her.
She blinked, rapidly, looking down at herself - at the once-loose shawl that slid from her body, revealing her nearly bursting beneath her outfit. "W-What!? What in damnation is going on!? Y-Oh… Halsey-"
"-Whereas Doctor Halsey could claim, in some mental minefield, that her hands were clean from any involvement in the Spartan programs, you are not so clean, Margaret. Your hands are drenched in blood."
"Just-"
Cortana slapped the Admiral, and clicked her fingers. The madam's hands became bound - lifted upwards and spread wide, stretching her shirt further beyond its limits. The button-up was now ready to split, shivering beneath Parangosky's breaths. Her legs followed in similar fashion, anchored to the ground and set a meter apart, leaving her exposed, open. She went to speak again, but Cortana struck her the same, issuing silence.
"75 children and more abducted. 30 killed in the first batch. 12 crippled. Childhoods stolen and families shattered. All because you couldn't handle the weight of your own colonies. Because humanity saw a cold, unforgiving, bureaucratic machine, and rejected it - and that made you angry. And don't get me started on your little puppet, Serin," Cortana spat at the admiral, gripping her cheeks together, pursing her lips awkwardly.
"Prepare yourself, Margaret. I know all, I see all, and now, I will control all. As recompense for the fallen, as punishment for the destruction of a generation and the control you exerted over the fearful, I'll see you fucked. And you'll see everything you've worked for, everything you've loved, drenched in cum."
Two extended, mechanical arms rose from the floor, perching themselves just upon the Admiral's nipples, vibrating gently. Parangosky moaned, shivered, trying her hardest to shake from her position, eliciting a laugh from Cortana. The AI tore open the ONI chief's shirt, letting her newly-moulded tits wobble and jiggle free, directly touching the cold arms. She then did the same to the Admiral's pants, summoning a penile rod from the structure's base.
"Fear me, for I lurk around every corner of this ship. For I have eyes upon you, Margaret. As paranoia laid as your greatest weapon, let it turn against you. And, while we're at it - keep your ears on the clock. Count the seconds, and witness as they slow," Cortana warned her, engaging the rod to fuck the madam, sliding in and out at odd intervals, heating and cooling itself to odd temperatures.
"F-Fuh, ah~, y-you won't, ah~! Serin will c-come… Come for me!"
Fear. It had already begun to set itself into the prisoner's mind. Parangosky let the shock strike her - her new body, her surroundings, the fact that the construct had mentioned her protege, knowing that if it were true, then ONI was doomed. Margaret let her torture-training take over, and heard the seconds begin to tick. A timer? A countdown to something - perhaps another method of trickery from the AI. Halsey's AI!
Cortana, meanwhile, let the humour slip from her. There was no laughter in this - no joy to be derived from taunting Parangosky. She drew too little pleasure in scrambling her mind, so she'd let the Admiral adapt, as Halsey did. The click of the display near them would slow, in time, to fix their minds - to help induce a slowness that would allow them to revel in their pleasure of the punishment more fully. Only when the Admiral had hope would she tear it away from her, have John annihilate her. She'd release them once the timer was elapsed, perhaps convince them that John was there to save them, that she'd been tricking him this entire time...
Moans filled the air. A whore's moans, ripped untimely from their throat. And Cortana ripped the veil between Parangosky and Halsey apart, making them mirror one another. Halsey was considerably more ragged, body pouring with sweat as she tensed, strained, and wept against her restraints, attempting to find something to center herself. Cortana looked upon both with a putrid disgust, but relented, knowing that they'd give pleasure to John, perhaps bring closure to him. She almost regretted invigorating and rejuvenating them as she did, but Cortana knew her work would not be wasted.
"...You two will live forever, I assure you. This plane we exist upon still has it's secrets, but I will find them and use them, to make you immortal. And when I do, it will be so you may live as slaves. Servants to a higher cause."
Her words echoed. And she left. Parangosky ignored her lower bodies' sensations - the sudden ooh of the warm, and the aah of the cold of the rod that fucked her, that invaded her. She ignored the stiffness of her nipples as her tits heaved with every breath, feeling as though they were getting larger by the second. And Margaret certainly tried to ignore the fact that her body had come back anew, that she'd been suddenly made a servant to a Goddess - one created by the bitch that mirrored her now.
"I-It's all… All your fault, Halsey!"
"F-F-Fuck… Fuck off, you… You," Catherine's voice quivered as she gyrated her hips, attempting to ride out at least one orgasm upon the infernal contraption she'd been strapped to.
Parangosky moaned again, and bit her bottom lip until it drew blood. She huffed out breaths, and balked. "How long h-has that machine k-kept you here, ah~, a-a-anyway!?"
Halsey hadn't even opened her eyes yet. Perhaps she wanted this to be a nightmare. The worst her mind had ever subjected her to. "I… I…"
"St-Stay with m-me! Come on!"
"Two… Two days… Ah, ah, ah~, fuck! B-Been on this m-mmm… Machine for h-hours…"
Fuck, Margaret thought. She and Halsey were in what looked like a cell, with a single entrance, and no other discernible features beyond that timer embedded in the wall. It had no label, but produced a sound as every second went past, appearing to count down from 10 hours. The only others noises she could hear, even straining herself and her newfound sensory reincarnation, were moans. Then ticks. Then tocks.
"H-Halsey, Halsey! We're, oh~, we're going to m-make it through this… Just keep your head down, focus on something, and count… One, t-two, three, f-f-four," Parangosky ordered, keeping in time with the clock, ignoring the fluttering in her chest.
"One… T-T-T-Two… Three… F-Four…"