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nesaluvstherecoms · 4 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱.

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴏɴᴇʟ ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ Qᴜᴀʀɪᴛᴄʜ x ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ ꜰᴇᴍ. ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Identity crisis, insomnia, PTSD, alien (Na’vi) anatomy, male and female masturbation, cum eating, pheromone induced arousal, sexual fantasies

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ʟɪɴᴋ

。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐙𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲

“Remember kid, a Marine can’t be defeated. Oh, you can kill us. But we’ll just regroup in hell. Semper fi.” And with that, the grey haired Colonel leans forward and ends the recording.

Sharp, amber eyes stare intensively at the now transparent screen, carefully eyeing up the piece of technology between the Recombinant’s large hands. The Recom inhales deeply, lips pursed as the expression on his face remains vengeful. His jaw is tense, teeth clenched, his brain processing the new information that it just obtained. So this is why he’s here, hm? Back from the dead. His eyes then avert to his surroundings. He watches as more of his squadron’s members are pulled out of the amnio tanks, in new, refined bodies. Their flesh covered in the amniotic fluid, giving a thick, shiny sheen to the firm, durable muscles of their new anatomy.

Quaritch snorts. If he had seen this sight fourteen years ago, he would’ve been absolutely disgusted at the alien bodies being pulled out of the tanks. His blue eyes would’ve pierced through the freaky, revolting sight. He would’ve scoffed at the science pukes, calling them freaks, giving them nasty stares before storming off somewhere. The Recom’s train of thought stops there. No he wouldn’t. He wasn’t even alive fourteen years ago. Because the man who would have reacted that way is probably still rotting somewhere. And he’s not that man.

Or is he?

The Recom is pulled out of his thoughts by his right hand man, who’s floating close to him, holding onto the metal bar that supports the screen between his Colonel’s hands. They have a brief moment of eye contact, before the other Recombinant speaks.

“What’re we thinking Colonel?”

Quaritch moves his lower jaw to the side, tongue moving up to press against the upper molars of the same side. He takes a deep breath, eyes lowering down briefly, in thought. His eyes then turn back up, observing his Corporal’s face. It will take him some time to get used to Lyle’s new face. The same face he woke up to some hours ago. His eyes skim over the nasal plug inserted into Wainfleet’s right nostril, to stop the nosebleed that Quaritch caused when he punched him square in the face. Quaritch brings his lower jaw back into place. His tongue runs over the new fangs that he can’t seem to get used to just yet, coating them in a new layer of saliva, causing his lips to purse in the process. He then looks at his Corporal again. Wainfleet stares back, patiently waiting for his Colonel to process the new information, his tail flicking slowly behind him as they both float in the zero gravity space. Quaritch swallows the saliva that has pooled in his mouth. He looks at Wainfleet with an intense and serious expression before his lips curl into a smirk, fangs coming out in full display, as he stares deeply into his right hand man’s amber eyes.

“Well Lyle…. Looks like we did regroup in hell after all….”

Y/N is deep in her head. Her thoughts are all over the place, not able to form a logical and uniform chain like they usually do. But she tries to dull them for a bit.

This is not the place to be having an existential crisis.

She focuses her vision on what’s happening on the other side of the glass panel she’s currently standing behind, separating her from the zero gravity space she was in earlier. Her eyelids close over her eyes for a moment, just enough to ground her thoughts briefly. So that’s why she’s here huh? To colonize. What a joke.

“You okay, Colonel?”

Y/N opens her eyes again. Her line of vision falls upon the man standing next to her, who seems to have focused his sight on his perplexed Colonel, staring at her expectantly. Her eyes narrow at the man, tongue moving uncomfortably in her mouth at the sight of him. He doesn’t look the same at all. His beard is gone, his irises are golden, his nose is that of a feline, his skin is blue and striped and he has this new alien body that just looking at it makes her sick to her stom-

“Colonel?”

Y/N clenches her jaw, turning her head away from the man, not wanting to look at him.

“I’m fine John.”

The man swallows. Why is she acting like this? She’s never been so cold towards him for no reason. His eyes remain on her for a few more minutes, but she refuses to even glance at him again, like she can’t even bear the thought of looking at him. He decides to turn his head back towards the glass panel, telling himself that she’s just in her head and she’ll come to her normal self eventually. She always does. But something inside him still worries, his tail being a testament of this as the end of it flicks in intervals behind him. His eyes glance down briefly to his blue hands, as he stretches his new fingers, the skin flexing above the flesh. He swallows. He doesn’t like it. Not one bit. His eyes return to what’s happening behind the glass panel, trying to collect himself.

This is not the place to be having an existential crisis.

The Colonel and her Captain watch as the last duo of the 10 man squadron gets pulled out of their amnio tanks. As the amniotic fluid disperses in the space, the newborn Na’vi bodies get pulled out, sliding from the tank into the air of the new world they’re about to open their eyes to. The scientists maneuver the large, Recombinant bodies in the zero gravity space, preparing to get them ready for the wake up process. Y/N’s eyes follow them, running over the alien yet somehow familiar features of her First Sergeant and Operations Officer, both of their eyes closed, faces resting peacefully. Oh how unaware they are of what’s about to happen, what they’re about to wake up to, to wake up in. They don’t know they’ll open their eyes, far away from Earth, in new alien bodies, sluggish and confused, frightened even. They just remain resting, still deep in hibernation sleep, as they are moved away from Y/N’s and John’s sight.

John turns his head towards his Colonel again. But no words come out of his mouth. He’s waiting. Waiting for her to say something. Y/N feels his eyes on her. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs with the much needed air as she closes her eyes again, still keeping her jaw clenched. After a few seconds she opens them again, long eyelashes as a result of her mixed DNA parting way for her dark pupils to focus again. She swallows. John inhales as she finally looks at him again, but this time there is no displeasure on her beautiful features, just the usual calm and determined demeanor that he’s used to.

“Captain, I expect you to report to me on how the wake up process has gone for the rest of the team after they all have been awaken.”

Is all she says. John nods.

“Yes Colonel.” He replies, deep voice sounding the same as she remembers. Y/N nods once, giving him one last look, before backing up a few steps and turning around. Her combat boots thud on the tiles as she starts walking away, tail moving slightly behind her. John watches his Colonel as she walks away. After a few seconds he’s about to start leaving himself, but his ears catch the sound of her footsteps stopping. He turns around, watching in curiosity. Y/N doesn’t turn to face him, her tail has stopped moving, now standing still with the end of it slightly raised up. Her ears fold back as she turns her head to look at him over her shoulder, her hair and kuru moving along with it.

“Take care of yourself John.”

And with that she slowly turns the corner and disappears from his eyesight. John swallows, still staring at the end of the hallway from which she just left. Slowly, he exhales the breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“I will, Colonel.”

It has been five days since Y/N woke up in her new body. Her right hand man, Captain John Keller, has been telling her that some of her squadron members are awake, but not all of them. Apparently the scientists are awakening two Recombinants at a time every five days. Even then she is not able to see them, as they have to come to terms with what has been done to them first. Keller has informed her that she’ll be able to meet the entire team again once they all have somehow processed their new profound existence. Y/N huffs ironically. Well that will take some time won’t it? As she lays on her bed, in her new temporary quarters, her eyes remain on the ceiling. Her ears twitch as she periodically taps her right middle finger on the sheets stamped with the RDA logo below her. Her other hand lays flat on her stomach, feeling the muscle below her fingertips even though she’s internally revolting at the firmness of it. She keeps her eyes on the ceiling.

“Remember sweetheart…. You’re nothing but a pawn and you’ll remain a pawn until you play. Take what they give you, give away what you have to, and the difference is yours. Because the difference is what makes you the middle player between the cattle and power. Because that…. is the key to winning the game.”

Her tail starts thudding against the mattress in synchronization with the finger tapping on the sheets.

She knows what her predecessor meant. But… do these rules apply to another planet?

Her tail thuds more firmly against the mattress.

Tap…

It’s been five days… five days and she still hasn’t looked in the mirror. Even with that being the case, she still has caught glimpses of herself on the reflection of different glass panels on the ISV Vindicator, and she can’t say she liked it. Her head turns slowly towards the direction of the shower.

Maybe she should.

Slowly she sits up, the sheets ruffling under her. She moves her legs to the side and lowers her bare feet on the cold tiles of the room. Behind her, her tail rests flat on the mattress. After a few seconds she stands up, walking towards the direction of the bathroom. She steps foot in, and looks around for a bit. The mirrors are still covered. There’s two of them, one small and square one above the sink and one full-length body mirror in front of the shower. Her ears fold back as her eyes fall on the covered, full-length mirror. She stands there, in the middle of the bathroom, for a considerable amount of time before she decides to do it. Hesitantly, her feet walk towards the big mirror, her tail raised slightly up behind her. Getting closer, her hand reaches out to grasp the sheet thrown over it. The RDA staff had done this to every room issued to the Recombinants, because apparently there were others like her who weren’t ready to look at themselves yet. Other Recombinants…. She wonders what other squadron the RDA decided to clone…

Y/N pushes that thought aside. She has a bigger issue to face. She’s now standing in front of the mirror with her hand grasping the sheet covering it. Her eyelids close for a moment, allowing her to ground the feelings that are bubbling inside, as her ears remain folded back and pressed against her head. Why is she so afraid?

“Come on Y/N. You’re a Colonel. The military didn’t raise no pussy.” She tells herself. Her mind goes back to when she first opened a book to study about Pandora, the day after General Ardmore had requested her presence in the Recom Program. She remembers her fascination as she carefully read every page, letter by letter. She was sitting in her office at the time, the dim light of her desk lamp falling over the book she had chosen to look for information into; “The Na’vi”. She remembers as she had turned that one specific page and her e/c eyes had fallen upon the two diagrams of one male and one female Na’vi. How she stared at the picture in fascination, carefully eyeing the dark blue stripes, the tails, the noses, the ears. Is that what she looked like now? After a few seconds she opens her eyes again, and this time there’s not as much hesitation in them.

Y/N pulls the sheet off of the mirror.

As the sheet falls on the floor, a young, beautiful Na’vi woman stares back at her, breathing rapidly. Her cropped ears are folded back, her tail is raised cautiously behind her and she stares back at Y/N in fear. Y/N swallows firmly, getting some relief in her dry throat. The young Na’vi does the same. Hesitantly, Y/N places her right hand on the mirror, moving closer to it so she can examine her own face. Her golden eyes carefully trace the dark blue stripes on her face, running over each and every one, before they move to her pink, feline nose. Carefully she removes her hand from the mirror and pokes at the tip of her nose with her fingertip. It twitches at the invasive touch, and for the first time in her new life, Y/N chuckles. That immediately diverts her attention to her mouth. She parts her lips and opens her mouth, exposing the sharp canines coated in a layer of saliva that she seems to constantly have to swallow to keep her mouth from overflowing at the moment. Her tongue carefully runs over the top row of her teeth, doing a full examination before it stops at the sharp end of her right canine. She carefully pushes the tip of her tongue against it, not enough to pierce through the muscle but enough to be able to feel the sharpness of her new tooth. Her tongue then moves to her right lateral incisor. It’s also pointy and sharp, threatening to pierce the tip of the muscle as she presses it against the incisor, but it’s just a bit shorter then the canine. She clamps her teeth shut, watching the full set in the mirror. The canines and lateral incisors stand out on both rows, long, pointy and sharp, glistening under the bathroom light. She closes her mouth again, now not staring at a specific feature of hers, but just looking at her face as a whole. Her face is still familiar… just… different… and blue. But it’s still… her.

Or is it?

Slowly, Y/N’s hands move down to the end of her tactical shirt. Her fingers grasp the hem and slowly start pulling up, and over her head. She tosses the shirt somewhere in the bathroom before she turns her head back to the mirror, now staring at her exposed upper body. Her hands move up towards her collar bone, touching the skin lightly. She watches herself in the mirror as her hands slowly move down to her plump breasts and gently cup them, the fat of her tits slightly bulging out of the space between her fingers. She feels the comforting softness of them for a while, before her fingers gently start to trace her nipples. A shaky sigh leaves her mouth as they harden under her touch, getting perky between her fingertips. Her eyes watch her movements in the mirror, taking in the pretty pink color of her nipples. Her breasts haven’t changed much. That gives her some comfort, seeing that at least no drastic changes have been made to her general anatomy. With that she moves her hands down, gently pressing her fingertips against her firm stomach. She watches her thin waistline, running her fingers over her sides briefly, before reaching the belt line of her tactical pants.

Y/N swallows again. But this time she doesn’t hesitate as much. Her elegant fingers make short work of the button and the zipper, getting them both undone. Her thumbs hook under the belt line at her hips where the undone pants still hang on, and she pulls them down, kicking them away. Now standing completely naked in front of the full-length mirror, she takes in the sight. There’s no body hair, due to the Na’vi genes, so she runs her fingertips over the smooth skin gently. Her right hand moves back, grasping the thick base of her tail. Keeping her fingers wrapped around it, she moves her hand down her tail, letting it slide in her palm until the fluffy tip is curled between the knuckle of her pointer finger and her thumb. She lets it go and turns around. Her head looks over her shoulder in the mirror and she experimentally moves her tail left to right. Cropped ears raise up in fascination as she continues to move her tail and watch it in the mirror. But as she does so, her eyes fall on the long braid draped over the muscles of her back. Slowly, her hand lets go of her tail.

Y/N turns back around to face the mirror. Carefully and gently she grabs the base of the long braid and pulls it in front of her. Her mind goes back to the memory of her reading that book. She remembers reading something about this braid.

“A neural queue (Na’vi name: kuru) is an appendage that is part of many species' anatomy on Pandora, including the Na’vi. Queues are encased in a "neural whip", a protective layer of skin that houses a set of thin, pinkish tendrils that appear somewhat like hair but are actually extensions of the creature's nervous system. Although the Na'vi possess a neural whip like most other creatures, it is most often hidden under a layer of hair that is painstakingly braided around the queue to protect it.”

An extension to her nervous system. Y/N’s brows raise in uncertainty. Her fingers move down to the end of the long braid and raise it up in front of her face. She watches as the hair falls down and a set of freakish, pink tendrils appear, slithering in place. Y/N’s face twists with displeasure.

“What the actual fuck.” She mumbles. That’s creepy. She lets go of her queue, not pleased at the alien appendage connected to the base of her skull. She’ll experiment with it later, not wanting to mess with it too much, seeing that apparently it is an extension of her own nervous system. As she thinks this, her eyes fall back on the reflection in the mirror. She swallows. Only one more thing to examine… Slowly she starts bending her knees to sit on the sheet that was covering the mirror earlier, planting her rear end on the floor. Bringing her knees to her chest, she scoots back with her heels to make some space between her and the mirror. After she gets comfortable enough, her amber eyes fall on the reflection again. She sighs… fuck it.

Slowly, Y/N parts her knees, spreading her legs wide. Immediately her eyes fall on her pink pussy, searching for any weird alien features. A wave of relief washes over her as she realizes that that is not the case. Her head falls back, hair caressing the skin of her back and eyes closing for a moment.

“Oh thank fucking God.” She mumbles, grateful that she wouldn’t have to deal with some type of alien genitalia. Her tail flicks side to side, ruffling against the sheet below her. Y/N brings her head forward again, staring back at the pink flesh between her legs. The outer lips match with the blue color of the rest of the skin, but the inside seems to match the color of her nipples and neural tendrils. The shape hasn’t changed, it’s still the same as she remembers.

Y/N swallows. She wonders if…

Slowly, she brings one hand forward, carefully sliding it between her spread legs. Her fingertips experimentally spread her lower lips, pulling the hood of her clit up. The tiny pink nub starts hardening under the touch, sending a pleasurable wave coursing up her spine. She closes her legs shut. No. She’s not doing this.

Standing up from the bathroom floor, she decides to ignore what just happened, the end of her tail curling around her calf in embarrassment. She grabs the sheet and folds it carefully, putting it on a nearby shelf, before she uncovers the mirror above the sink and does the same thing with the smaller sheet. Grabbing her discarded clothes, she puts them in the laundry basket, before taking out a bathrobe and a towel from the bathroom cabinet. She needs a shower. After hanging the towels on a hook nearby, her fingers move to the end of her neural queue to undo the braid. Making short work of the strands of hair, little by little the entire queue comes out, resting over her right shoulder. Y/N watches the long neural whip now uncovered, as the tendrils move. A chill runs down her spine. She doesn’t like this thing at all. It looks so freaky.

She slides open the shower screen and steps inside. Her hand reaches for the handle, twisting it on the warm temperature side. Warm water pours from the shower head, falling in front of her, wetting her feet. She steps under the stream, letting it drench her entirely. As the water falls freely on her naked form, she reaches for the small bottle of shampoo. She pours some on her open palm before stepping out of the stream and bringing the open palm on top of her head. Her fingers work gently on her scalp, massaging in the shampoo. The sweet smell fills her nostrils and it twitches at the sudden overwhelming scent. She sneezes. The hell? She has never been so sensitive to smells. Grabbing the shampoo bottle she reads over the ingredients, trying to see if there’s something adding extra scent. But there isn’t any added perfumes. Just the standard RDA approved shampoo. She huffs, sneezing one more time. Maybe it’s her. Her nose must be more sensitive. Y/N huffs out of her nose to get rid of the sneezing feeling and continues to wash her hair carefully. Pouring some more shampoo on her palm, she brings her hands down and starts washing her body. After lathering her whole body up, her fingers gently cup her breasts and rub over them, massaging the soap into the skin. Y/N swallows as her nipples harden again, poking against her open palms. Stopping her movements, she looks towards the direction of the mirror. Her eyes trace over her naked, wet and lathered up form in the reflection, strands of hair sticking on her blue skin. She bites her lip in contemplation. Slowly, her right hand moves from her right breast and carefully slides over her pubic bone. Elegant fingers slide over the smooth skin, before getting between her legs. Warmth spreads over her cheeks at her own actions. Her middle finger gently slides between her folds. A shaky breath leaves her mouth as she feels her clit harden again, bringing back that pleasurable wave down her spine she felt earlier. Flicking her wrist slowly, she brings the bottom of the second knuckle on the tiny pink nub, and gives an experimental rub. Her hips buckle forward at the feeling, and she presses against her clit harder.

Y/N leans against the shower wall, pressing her shoulders against the cold tile. Widening her stance, she rubs tight circles on her clit. As arousal starts seeping from her hole, she lets out a shaky moan, her left hand that’s still on her left breast squeezes the soft flesh. Her tail curls around her left leg, tightening around the limb. Y/N moans again, as the waves of pleasure start running through her neurons. It’s been so long. So so long. She needs this. As she rubs harder, her hips buckle forward again, causing her shoulders to press harder against the shower wall to grant her stability. Her cunt is now drenched, covered in sticky arousal and Y/N pulls on her nipple with her other hand. Letting out another moan, she stops her movements. Her middle finger slowly slides further down her pussy until the fingertip reaches the source of the thick arousal. She gently prods at it, pressing against the silky flesh. Her head falls back, the back of it leaning against the shower wall and her eyes return to the reflection in the mirror. She has to be careful. This body is virgin after all. Slowly, she inserts the tip of her finger up to the first knuckle into her pussy. A burning sensation courses within the opening, as her walls start parting to make room for the digit. Y/N continues pushing it until it’s fully in, resting within the velvety walls of her cunt.

“Fuck.” She whispers shakily, squeezing around her own digit. Allowing her virgin walls to adjust to it, she rests there, shoulders leaning against the wall as the hot water from the shower continues to pour. The glass screens have started fogging, the steam getting thicker and thicker as seconds pass, blurring the reflection of the mirror in front of her eyesight. Y/N remembers what a pain it was for her to get used to the feeling of her hole stretching when she lost her virginity. How long it took to prep her and surpass the burning feeling in her cunt. Now she will have to go through it again. But as her walls adjust to the digit, her eyelids close over her golden eyes and she lets out another shaky sigh. Gently she starts pulling her finger out, before thrusting it in the wet and silky cavern of her pussy again. She brings her other hand down, rubbing on her clit to ease the process. Another shaky moan leaves her mouth as she continues pleasuring herself, rubbing tight circles on the tiny hardened nub and thrusting her finger in faster. Her tail tightens around her leg, while her cropped ears fold back and press against her head. Y/N angles her finger, searching for that one specific spot. The moment her legs tremble she knows she’s found it, and she jabs her fingertip against her sweet spot. Her eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open, as she feels the first wave of that sweet tightness in the pit of her stomach. Stopping her movements, Y/N turns around. Pressing her right cheek against the shower wall, her rear end sticks out, tail now raising up and the end draping over her right shoulder. Her queue dangles on her left side, tendrils still moving. She parts her feet wider, bringing her hands between her legs again. Her middle finger slides back in effortlessly and her other hand comes to rub on her clit again. But Y/N doesn’t move her finger just yet. Her right ring finger now prods at her opening, squeezing against the base of her middle finger. Slowly, she presses it in, sliding it in her walls along with the digit that’s already there. The sheer amount of arousal allows it to slide effortlessly but a burning sting courses through her inner walls as her pussy tries to adjust at the new intrusion. She hisses slightly, hole stretching to accommodate the two digits.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” She mumbles, squeezing around the two fingers. Her other hand rubs on her clit, trying to ease the adjustment. Her pointer finger and pinky are now pressed flat against either ass cheek as more arousal seeps out of her pussy, dripping down the back of her hand. Slowly, the stinging pain goes away. With that, Y/N pulls out her fingers halfway before thrusting them inside her cunt again. Squelching sounds and moans fill the bathroom along with the sound of the pouring water as she finds that same spot again and jabs against it mercilessly. The coil in the pit of her stomach continues to tighten, while waves of sweet pleasure encase her body. Her mouth hangs open, the tile fogs with her shaky breaths and moans as she keeps her cheek pressed against it. Her cheeks are now fully hot, brows furrowed and eyes closed in pleasure. Her mind starts to drift, searching for filthy memories to help her get closer to that sweet sweet orgasm. Pornographic moans echo against the walls as she finds just the right memory, and slams into her own cunt harder, while her other hand rubs her clit furiously. A numb feeling starts overtaking her toes, her stomach tightens, her urethra throbs pleasurably and that’s when she knows she’s about to cum.

Quickly she turns back around, slamming her shoulders against the shower wall and sticking her hips forward. With her eyes rolling back in her skull and a final scream, the coil snaps and intense pleasure takes over her entire body. Her nervous system pulses, blood rushing through her veins as she pleasures herself even harder to ride her orgasm. Clear liquid gushes onto the shower screen in front of her, splattering aggressively against the glass as she rides her fingers, tight velvety walls convulsing around the digits. What Y/N doesn’t notice, is the tendrils of her queue pulsing with her release, pleasure coursing through them as well.

“Oh, oh fuck!” She moans one last time as her hips stop buckling. Clamping her legs shut around her right hand, she presses the palm of her other hand flat on the shower wall behind her. Y/N lets her entire back lay against the tiles, breathing heavily as her orgasm fades away.

The only sound in the bathroom is the water still pouring from the shower head, as Y/N opens her eyes again. This time she cannot see her reflection as the glass screen is fully foggy, except for the large area of splatter patterns and squirt droplets sliding down its surface. Swallowing the saliva that has pooled in her mouth, she gently pulls her fingers out of her cunt. She brings her hand in front of her face, watching as her middle and ring finger part from each other and the thick arousal stretches between them. Her mouth parts, tongue sticking out, as she slides those fingers onto her taste buds. She wraps her lips around them, cheeks hollowing as she sucks the release from the two digits. A satisfied hum comes from the bottom of her throat as the flavor of her own cum courses through her taste buds. She pulls those fingers out, moving them back down between her folds to scoop more of her cum out from her cunt. When she has gathered a satisfying amount, she brings them back to her mouth, pouring the gathered glob of cum on top of her tongue and sucking the digits clean.

The lather has dissolved by now, leaving her body weirdly sticky. After a few more seconds of gathering herself, Y/N steps under the stream of the water again. A sigh escapes her throat, as the warmth eases her muscles, tail flicking in approval behind her. She closes her eyes, letting herself enjoy the feeling. After a while, she turns the water off. She slides the glass screen open and grabs her bathrobe and towel. She wraps her hair with the towel, carefully leaving the neural queue out, and wears the bathrobe. Her feet carry her towards the door, while her hand reaches for the light-switch and presses it, turning off the bright light of the bathroom. Y/N walks towards the bed, and doesn’t hesitate to lay down, exhaustion slowly creeping up to her. Why she’s exhausted? She doesn’t know. She could argue that her first orgasm in this new body had something to do with it but she doesn’t think much of it. A small yawn escapes her lips, sharp canines and incisors coming out in the process. Her tail ruffles against the sheets. She turns her head towards her analog watch that she had left on top of the nightstand.

03:44

She should get some sleep. Removing the bathrobe, she tosses it somewhere in the room. Deciding to keep the towel wrapped around her hair, she slides her naked form under the covers. She reaches for a bottle of water on top of the nightstand and takes a few gulps before closing the lid and putting the bottle back on the nightstand. Another yawn escapes her mouth. After getting comfortable under the covers, Y/N lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. In some weeks, she and her squadron will board on Pandora. Her mind goes back to the books she read on it. Except for “The Na’vi”, one of the books that stood out the most to her had been “Pandoran Botany” by Dr. Grace Agustine. Well, who wouldn’t be fascinated by the botany of another planet. She remembers the expression on her face as she had been flipping through the pages. Well in a few weeks she gets to see it for herself… if it doesn’t kill her that is. As a third yawn leaves her lips, Y/N decides to call it a day. She shifts into her usual sleeping position and closes her eyes. Thoughts still roam in her head but she tries to dull them, wanting to quiet her mind so she can rest. But one specific thought doesn’t seem to fade away. She wonders who the other squadron of Recombinants are…

Miles lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. It has been a rough five days. His squadron members are not all awake, some of them are having trouble with the new bodies, he’s keeping an existential crisis at bay, but most importantly, it’s been five days of flashbacks. The scientists have told him that it will take some time for all his memories to flood in, that’s why he’s getting them in snippets throughout the day. He huffs. Fucking science pukes. Always talking and never taking action. He can’t sleep at night and they haven’t done shit about it. Only the usual lectures of “trust the process sir”. Trust the process his ass, he can’t even get some damn shuteye. An annoyed growl leaves his throat. He wants to sleep. He really does. But every time his mind falls asleep, he’s haunted my memories. Some of them are the memories of war. He sees the faces of his former comrades, screaming in agony, calling out to him. They beg for him to save them, reaching out to him, before they are brutally slaughtered right in front of his eyes, their blood splattering on his uniform.

Miles swallows. As a seasoned soldier, he’s used to the brutal nature of war. He has seen violence at its most horrifying form and he thought he got over those memories a long time ago, however that does not seem to be the case. They’re coming back, haunting his dreams. The worst part is, they’re not the ones that are keeping him awake at night. No, he can sleep throughout those. What he can’t sleep through is the memory of his first day on Pandora… As soon as his mind falls into slumber, the first thing he sees is a pair of yellow eyes in the darkness, the black slitted pupils staring into his soul. Miles steps back, cocking his long gun, his own eyes wide. The creature steps from the darkness, and suddenly Miles finds himself in the middle of the fluorescent jungle, in front of this one meter beast that has bared its long and horrifying black teeth at him. It howls aggressively, charging at him with all of its six limbs. Miles has no time to react…

Pain. Pain courses through his body, pulsing through his veins. He screams in agony, tearing his vocal chords. His hand rushes to the blinding pain on the side of his head. He feels it into his skull, piercing on the right side of his brain. His eyesight goes dark, isolating him from the rest of the world. Miles is now relying on his other senses as he desperately tries to survive the agony he’s going through. The right side of his uniform feels wet. It sticks to his body, awfully warm and drenched against his skin. The hand on the side of his head is drenched too, as another hot flash of pain stabs in the right side of his skull yet again. Miles screams, coughing out liquid from his torn vocal chords. His mouth fills with a salty and metallic flavor. His uniform is getting more and more drenched, and he feels a pool of hot liquid on the ground below him. The pain doesn’t stop. Neither do Miles’ screams. His ears are ringing, he can barely hear his own voice. His vision is still black, he cannot see. He hears faint sounds of explosions and screams somewhere in the distance. He feels dizzy. His body drops on his side on the ground, drenching the rest of his uniform into the pool of liquid that was below him. As its scent fills his nostrils, Miles realizes. It’s his own blood. And everything stops. Miles falls unconscious.

The Recombinant shudders. It’s been haunting him for five nights. Five nights of him jumping awake, covered in cold sweat as he struggles to breathe. His fingers instinctively reach for the right side of his head. But there’s nothing there. No scars to touch. He swallows. Bringing his wrist forward, he takes a look at his analogue watch.

03:15

His jaw moves to the side. He needs to find a way to get some damn shuteye and he needs to find it now. He turns his head back to look at the ceiling and brings his jaw in place. He thought about exercising until exhaustion a few days ago. He tried it. Did it work? No. He still had that damn nightmare. A frustrated growl emits from the bottom of his throat. Should he ask the science pukes for some melatonin pills? No, they’ll just give him the same lecture. His amber eyes fall on his crotch. He grits his teeth in contemplation. Fuck it, it wouldn’t hurt to try. His large hands reach for the zipper. Long fingers make short work of it and his tactical pants come undone shortly after. He pulls them down, tossing them somewhere in the room, and turns his attention to his crotch. His eyes fall on the slit starting between his testicles and ending a few inches higher. Miles frowns. He hates this fucking shit. Imagine his horror when he removed that stupid hospital gown and found no dick between his legs. He would’ve shot himself right there and then if it wasn’t for the science pukes explaining the anatomy to him. Still, he hates the idea of his dick being held internally. It’s disgusting. It’s weird. It’s alien.

He’s alien.

He clenches his jaw. That thought bothers him. He decides to ignore it.

This is not the time to be having an existential crisis.

Miles turns his attention back to the situation in front of him. Contracting the muscles of his abdomen, he pushes his cock out of the sheath folds. His right hand moves towards it, long fingers wrapping around the thick length. His cock is soft in his palm, after all he had no reason to get aroused. He just wants to bust a nut and be able to sleep peacefully. Hopefully whatever fucking hormone gets released when he shoots will help him sleep. With that in mind, his eyes return to the ceiling. He lets go of his dick and brings his palm to his mouth to spit on it. After he does so, he grabs his soft cock again. His hand spreads the spit all over his length, giving a few experimental pumps. He takes a deep breath, trying to get in the mood. With his cock in his fist he starts pumping slowly, paying extra attention to squeezing the tip. A satisfied hum leaves the bottom of his throat, and his eyes close, turning his vision blank. His mind starts skimming through snippets of memories, trying to find something to help grow an erection. But nothing seems to get him in the right mood. Miles frowns. Why is it so hard to blow a goddamn load? His other hand travels down between his legs, cupping his testicles. He fondles them, trying to get aroused, while his right hand continues pumping the length. After a few more minutes, Miles’ cock is still soft in his hand. He releases a frustrated growl. Letting go of his cock and balls, he puts his hands on his firm stomach. Well… he tried. He was no stranger to touching himself, after all it had been necessary sometimes to relieve stress, but he was never the type for a quick jack off, always preferred to take his time and get in the right mood. As he decides to call it a day and attempt sleep again, his nose twitches.

His cropped ears raise up in interest, as a sweet and lightly tangy scent gets in his nostrils. Miles sits up, tail flicking behind him, ruffling against the sheets. The scent is light but it’s still there, piquing his interest. He inhales, trying to find the source. Getting out of bed, he walks to where his sensitive feline nose is picking up this addicting smell. The air vent. Miles furrows his brows. He gets closer to it, his height allowing him to press the flat bridge of his nose right against the metal bars of the air vent, and he inhales deeply. His eyes roll back in his skull as the delicious scent fills his nostrils. His cock twitches, head poking out of the foreskin. Just what he needed. He spits harshly on his open palm again and grabs his cock, squeezing it tightly. Growling, he starts pumping, keeping the bridge of his nose pressed against the cold metal bars. He inhales again, filling his nose with the addicting scent. A part of him frowns at his own actions, not understanding why some random scent is arousing to him. While another part calls out to the newfound Na’vi instincts in him, telling him that this is someone’s scent. A female Na’vi’s scent. His mouth waters, hand fisting his now aching cock harder. He closes his eyes shut, inhaling the scent again. In the filthy pits of his mind he starts fantasizing a gorgeous Na’vi woman, pink hole stretched around his girth, moaning pathetically below him as he pistons his hips to drill into her tight pussy. She squeezes around his girth, velvety walls providing him with mind numbing pleasure and a deep moan leaves his throat. The sweet sap that leaks from her hole has drenched his cock, dripping down his testicles. And it smells just like this sweet, addicting scent. Miles’ other hand moves down, cupping his testicles again. He fondles them, feeling the first wave of that tightness deep in them as his other hand focuses on the tip of his dick, thumb moving to rub the slit that’s leaking precum. He growls, inhaling again, pressing his nose harder against the bars of the air vent. Whoever this woman is, the smell of her cunt is driving him insane. He fists his length harder, bringing his hips forward as his ears fold back and tail raises up in an arch behind him. The woman in his fantasy screams, releasing high pitched moans as she squeezes impossibly tight around him and cums, hot walls convulsing and clamping down on his cock. Miles feels his balls tighten, and those waves of tingling pleasure reach his abdomen before his urethra throbs in pleasure and the veiny cock starts pulsating in his fist.

“Fuckin’ hell!” Miles growls and with a final tight and harsh pump, he cums, shooting blanks on the wall where the air vent is, ropes of cum dripping down the surface. A shaky breath leaves his throat, as the last seconds of his orgasm fade away. He opens his eyes. Staring at the mess on the wall and on his hand, he huffs in annoyance. Great. Now he has to clean up. His head turns towards the air vent again. The scent is fading away. It’s still there, but it’s light. He clenches his jaw. Forcing himself to move away from the vent, he grabs a bunch of tissues and messily wipes his cum from the wall. He’s about to clean his hand when an idea pops in his head. Hesitantly, he brings his hand up to his face. His eyes inspect the cum dripping down the back of his hand. It glows lightly in a soft blue hue, not much but still noticeable enough in the darkness of his room. His tongue darts out. Experimentally, he licks some of it from his hand, his own flavor coursing in his taste buds. Miles hums in satisfaction, his tongue darts out fully and he licks his hand clean with one swipe of the large muscle. The salty yet tasty flavor fills his mouth, and he swallows the thick and warm liquid down. Slowly, he wipes the spit he left on his hand along with the amount he lubricated on his dick, and throws the tissues in the trashcan. He gets under the covers again, getting comfortable. That light tiredness after an orgasm catches up to him, and he sighs in satisfaction. It worked. Maybe he won’t see that nightmare tonight.

He takes a look at his analogue watch again.

03:44

He takes off the watch, putting it on the nightstand. A yawn leaves his lips, canines coming out as he does so. His eyes roam over the ceiling again. Who did that scent belong to? Another female Recombinant must have been aroused too, that’s the only explanation he can give. But the only women on his squadron are Walker and Z Dog. His face twists in displeasure. The thought of having pumped his cock to the scent of Walker’s or Z Dog’s arousal leaves an uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Disgusting. It couldn’t have been them. Well, Walker is not awake yet. She’s still being held in hibernation sleep somewhere in the labs. Z Dog on the other hand… well Z Dog is Z Dog. No explanation needed.

However, he did overhear some of the science pukes talking about another team of Recombinants, made in a different lab. He clenches his jaw. Another squadron? But the only people who were part of the Recom Program were his own field operators. What did the RDA do?

Well whatever the RDA did, he just jerked off to her. Miles frowns. Fucking Na’vi genes, making him act out like a damn dog in heat. He pushes that thought aside. He has more important issues to deal with. Turning on his side, he closes his eyes, trying to get himself to sleep. His tail stops moving, now resting flat on the mattress. Taking a deep breath, he quiets his mind.

In a few weeks they board on Pandora. He will get to see that death trap of a moon again. But this time… this time he comes prepared. He’s not the naïve man he was back then. Not anymore. This time he will bring hell to that fucking world, he will slaughter, terrorize and destroy mercilessly. He doesn’t care who or what is there anymore, if it stands in his way, he will make sure it disappears off the face of the Universe in the most agonizing and brutal way a being can muster. Because this time, he will accomplish his mission.

This time he will eliminate Jake Sully.

Title Explanation:

Zero dark thirty – Military time, very early hours before dawn.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴᴇxᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

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