–Twenty hours before nuclear detonation-


    My last human memory was of me, naked in a tube filled with goo. Then Jim, the Singularity tax collector who plundered four billion people for their war machine, pressed a button and I felt no more. I could hear him talking but all sensation was gone and soon even his voice began to diminish. Volume falling until silence. I wasn’t in the cryotube any longer. At least that solved my academic probation problem. So I’ll call this a win.


    Hours, years, or seconds passed, with my consciousness existing in total oblivion. I would say floating but there was no sensation, no impulses. I had no desires whatsoever. Apathetic in totality. Who cared if Ashley was a cheater? I caught her and Baz, they were leeches on my life, money, time, emotions, all things were drained away by those two. Had been drained. They were gone. The other girls must have known.


    I sigh, hoping death would find them and I would never again have to see those four people. Unfortunately, I’ll probably die in this sensationless cryotube. It would have been nice to meet my youngest sibling, or start a family with someone I love. But that’ll never happen-


    Darkness suddenly filled my world, the sort of darkness that you see with closed eyes. Not total black because some light makes it through eyelids. Sense returns. My face starts to regain feeling, warm humid air blowing across me. Sound comes next, creatures move, some hooved, some clawed. Grunts and squawks rattle around my head until I hear Jim speaking. Jim, that damn taxman.


    “There ya go, all brainwaves rising. She’s coming too. Might even be awake already so be conscious of that. Oh, give her some time to adjust from a human being to–”


    There is a pause, Jim is probably gesturing towards me. “Whatever you put her in will take some adjusting. Anyways, congrats on your own personal Matriarch. It’s been a pleasure doing business with the collective.”


    A raspy voice answers, somehow moist and sounding bitey, as if the speaker has a mouth with too many teeth or multiple jaws. Maybe even a split jaw. I exhale, thinking how ugly such a creature would be, as my own jaw splits into four jaws. I cock my head, neck feeling more weight than it has ever supported before and feeling lighter, stronger. Something feels wrong, actually scratch that. EVERYTHING feels wrong. Taste returns, and three tongues explore my mouth, categorizing each tooth with an ‘ouch’ factor. Or approximately how deeply each of these sawblades prick my tongues.


    “Ah, the last piece falls into our puzzle. Jimmy, today you may have saved the galaxy.” Rasps out the voice my body recognizes.


    “Saved the galaxy? I appreciate the notion ma’am but I’m no savior riding in on a white knight. Just glad to be of service. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few more drop offs to make, unless I can interest you in a hold full of biomass.” Says Jim.


    “We haven’t the ships. Nor the drop pods to convey additional biomass. Thank you Jimmy.” Says the bitey rasper.


    His voice irritates me, so similar to an old acquaintance. Savannah once brought home a boy with a split tongue, said he was great at kissing but not much else. Is that what I''ve become? A good kisser? I can’t feel my arms yet, but feeling is slowly creeping down my torso, I waggle my shoulders, discovering that my front assets have moved rearwards. Oh no. Someone’s turned me into a blow up doll, and they’re an ass guy. Why take away my tits! Then the feeling reaches my ribs. My chest isn’t just reduced, it’s totally flat, now covered in a smooth carapace. Hands regain feeling, these aren''t human limbs, thin muscular, and once more armored with chitin. More flexible too, I reach back to explore my backside and find a dorsal crest running down my spine, skin that keeps spikes protected. Venomous spikes, to kill predators. Or large prey. In a pinch I can rip them out and use them as javelins.


    On reflex my mouth begins to water, two of my four jaws clicking in front of my face. No, they aren’t jaws. I have mandibles, like an ant but sharp enough to shave and thick enough to crush power armor. I know because this body remembers tearing technomancy engineers apart, invading their world, tunneling beneath their cities and eradicating all human machines. More memories split my skull, flooding me with thoughts of who this body once was. A matriarch of the endless, a sort of experimental warlord within an organic army.


    Experimental? Then it hits like a wrecking ball. The mental blocks. The endless only push forward, we conquer, never looking behind, never seeking our creators. It bores into my consciousness like a thousand fire ants, digging long after tears of blood drip down my cheeks. I weep. Losing sensation as I once again fall into sleep.


    Hours later I awake. Though it could be minutes for all I know. Green light fills my bedroom. Except the bedroom is a green pool of bioluminescent fluid, which tastes surprisingly delicious. Slightly sweet, with just enough salt to compliment the wondrously savory chunks of meat. Texture is underrated when it comes to food. There is something uniquely satisfying about sinking two jaws into a piece of meat and sheering it. Flesh resisting just enough to know it was once a formidable foe, before fangs touch their opposites, cleaving flesh. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    I’m eating my enemies.


    Was not expecting this today…


    My eyes finally open, exiting the pool I somehow slept in, fully submerged. Which is how I realize this body isn’t remotely humanoid. More legs than I can count propel me out of the pool, not quite centipede, but more than six. Each limb bearing six joints. More flexibility than a slinky. Green liquid flows off my lower half, revealing an even greater change. As a Matriarch it is my duty and honor to bear the next generations of warriors and earn the name of endless. Four wombs are visible on my back, with creatures growing in each of them. Spawned from the biopool and my own genetic material with guidance from the marquis of survival, Zazathur.


    I’m pregnant. With quadruplets.


    “How did this even happen? I’m a virgin!” I grumble, the alien mouth mauling speech.


    If I have to carry something to term, I should at least be able to enjoy a little sex! What the hell. Memories chide me, this body is a Matriarch, I’ve carried thousands of children in my perpetual war, and will bear many more. Four visible uteri are only the tip, I have twelve. Worse, I’m capable of selectively editing genetic material. My memories have no personality, instead they offer up information that should be relevant. There are no male Matriarchs. No need. We are capable of self insemination.


    In short, only I get to fuck myself.


    “Jim. What the hell.” I whisper, exploring my new body.


    The closest thing imaginable to this is a Drider or Centaur from Dungeons & Dragons, a game Baz and Ashley convinced me to play. It really wasn’t my thing, I had decided to play a shhy roque, the quiet type, while Ashley went with a moonlighting Bard so she could romance the NPCs. A game she soon aimed at Baz. How could I have missed that? Just how long were they going behind my back?


    Sorrow translates into fear, and three prehensile stingers push out of sheathes glistening with lethal venoms. Roughly eighty two dorsal spines push out of skin sheathes, each an envenomed blade I can forcefully eject towards enemies. Kinda like intentionally sharting death at mach speeds.


    This body is actually pretty great. Potent, larger than a horse, or bull… No, those creatures are too small to compare, I’m more of a zerg Queen, the Wings of Liberty variant not the flying eyeball with buck teeth. Except I have four shoulders connected to my torso. Two are small things, positioned where the human half of a centaur’s would be. Consequently pushing the other two arms down to my waist where the insectoid thorax with wombs meets my torso. There my arms are folded. Like a praying mantis with spear tips and serrated edges. I extend one, wincing as my human mind rewrites itself to this body. It’s as if my pinky finger is suddenly a complete arm and the limb shoots out, punching a six foot slash into the wall.


    Mental chastisement grabs my neck, choking the life out of my brain. I have no idea where it is coming from,.


    “WHY HARM ME?” It demands.


    “Eck- so- sorry! Accident!” I gasp, all dozen of my limbs jerking awkwardly.


    The force releases by body. I’m not sure if it intended to toss me, but the release flips me back into the biopool. Worker drones, creatures similar to ants appear and seal the gash in the ship, ignoring me.


    Okay, lets not do that again. I think, slowly working through each muscle, stinger, limb, and inch of the new me. Which is when I see the first message.


    >Executrix Alaea: Is someone there? I’m Athena…


    I close my eyes, but the text remains. Weird, but I’m doing zerg yoga right now, may as well respond.


    >Matriarch Hygieia: I’m Athena… Sorta. Last thing I remember was being pulled out of my body.


    >Executrix Alaea: Matriarch Hygieia? Like, Hygieia Athena? Weird reference. But if you’re not human anymore… I guess that makes sense.


    >Matriarch Hygieia: I’m not even close to human. Like a pregnant zerg queen. More armor, and twelve wombs I have to fuk myself.


    >Executrix Alaea: Lol. wtf. That’s gross, not funny.


    Blue light appears around me, a field of psychic power that pops in the same millisecond it forms. Or my senses are too slow to capture lightning.


    >Executrix Alaea: WTF! I thought you were joking… Girl, I''m so sorry.


    >Matriarch Hygieia: Relax, this body doesn’t seem to have a pity circuit. I make warriors. Simple as.


    We spend hours talking, each subtly testing the other, suggesting false memories only for the other to correct us. There is no doubt, we are one being.


    I pass the time weaving genetic strands together, incubating life not seen in this galaxy before. Though the psychic voice I now recognize as the ship itself only permits me the contents of this biopool. All other biomass is tied up, devoted to the cause. We’ll be landing soon. On a world that would love nothing more than to kill every last one of the hive. Our mission is clear, a world with a forested half, beautiful and taller than Lothlorien, and the other half an irradiated husk. Dead, but we must fight to acquire Solarium. A rare mineral only found in the galactic core, deeper than ships can traverse without being crushed or torn apart by the infinite gravity of a supermassive black hole. This world must have once been a rogue planet, somehow transiting the galactic core and being bombarded with the mineral hundreds of billions of years ago, before Earth was even dust.


    Oh, that’s right. Earth, that’s home. I must take over this planet to save home. That is my deal with Jim. The price of mom’s safety.


    -14 hours before nuclear detonation-