Chapter 9 – Fuel

The nano-controller deep within Rowe's brain was growing. Growing in size, complexity, strength and intelligence.

If someone had dissected Rowe's brain they would have found it, visible with the naked eye, about the size of a penny, a massively complex whirling structure made up of thousands of individual nanobots, melded together into one all controlling hive mind. From the central structure thousands of strands spread out in every direction, microscopic gossamer threads that permeated every part of their host's brain. Every synapse, every neuron, every thought, conscious and unconscious, was fed back to the nano-controller.

The nano-controller existed only to serve the host. It felt her desires and it drove the nanobots to achieve them for her. It took her subconscious dreams of beauty and strength and made them real.

And now the nano-controller was beginning to understand even more.

At first the language of its host had been a mystery, but now it understood. It heard through her ears and saw through her eyes. The nanobots now understood Rowe's every wish, conscious and unconscious. They knew and understood her fears. Fear of the creature Brennan and her terrible assassin. Fear of being found out, the need to get stronger whilst staying hidden.

The nano-controller analysed the data available on Brennan and knew that the host could not challenge her and win. Brennan was far too powerful for the host. The host needed to be enhanced further, much further, before she could deal with the creature Brennan.

The nano-controller read the data and analytical processes and their host's desires and knew what must be done. They could not fight, nor could they run, so for now they must find their host the ability to hide.

Lieutenant Jones staggered cautiously into the cargo hangar. Kormack and a small team of handlers were carefully checking manifests against the numerous cargo containers now loaded aboard the Magellan. A forklift was moving slowly with a reinforced tank of antimatter fuel, the whirring of its motor loud in the otherwise silent hangar.

“Sergeant Kormack, I've got good news for you!” Jones said cheerfully. He stood before Kormack and threw a quick salute, nearly losing his balance as he did so.

“Sir, have you been drinking?” Kormack enquired.

Jones laughed. “Me? How dare you suggest such a thing!” Jones giggled. “I have merely been entertaining fellow officers in a suitable manner. With wine. Lots of wine!” He laughed, then remembered the seriousness of his message and stood up as straight as he could manage. “Deck sergeant Kormack, with the authority invested in me by her superiority, captain Charlotte Brennan, I am hereby promoting you to the rank of third lieutenant. Congratulations!” He held out a hand and kormack shook it warmly.

“What's happening to Pascoe?” Kormack asked.

“She’s being transferred back to the Solar System for palliative care. I'm taking her place and Chan is taking mine.”

“Pascoe told me as much. Brennan doesn't like her.” Jones grimaced, but said nothing. “Speaking of the captain, please could you inform her that we're loading the antimatter pods now. We'll be done in about an hour.”

Jones checked his watch. “Well done, that was fast. I'd better go and let the captain know.” He turned unsteadily on his heels and teetered carefully away. “Might see if I can get some strong coffee first!” he called as he wobbled away.

Clarke crept cautiously into the kitchen, propping the door open with a fire extinguisher in case she needed to make a quick escape. Rowe's transformation scared her a little, though her dislike of the superiors and all their arrogance overrode that fear. She glanced behind her, checking that nobody else had entered the mess hall. The only body in the room was the dead chef, his body largely flattened beneath the serving counter that Dupont had so effortlessly smashed him with.

“Jasmine?” She called quietly, half afraid of her friend and half afraid Dupont would hear. Her own stomach rumbled hungrily, though she had lost track of how much she had eaten from the breakfast bar.

“Jasmine!” She called, louder this time.

“I'm in the fridge,” a calm reply. Clarke walked over and opened the door.

She hadn't really known what to expect to find inside, but nevertheless the sight shocked her. At one end of the room were Rowe's clothes, neatly folded and placed on a shelf. Beyond them the floor and counters were all littered with empty food packaging; tins, wrappers, boxes, cartons, trays, bottles. Rowe was sitting cross-legged at the far end of the refrigerator, a final enormous leg of meat in one hand.

She looked grotesque. Huge rolls of fat covered her whole body, from a face that now seemed to melt in to a blotchy and mottled neck, down to ankles so swollen that folds of skin largely covered her feet. Clarke watched disgusted as she thrust the leg of meat down her gullet, slurping it away to nothing with an awful crunching noise. Even the bone was consumed.

Rowe stood up slowly, using the metal frame of the shelving to haul herself upright. Standing up she looked no less hideous than she had done sitting down. A fat, discoloured tongue licked around deeply stained lips. Clarke felt herself backing away cautiously. “Grace, it's okay!” Rowe said calmly, her voice surprisingly feminine for such a monstrous creature. “I've already been at this point twice already today. Give me a moment to digest this and I think you'll be pleased with the results.”

She closed her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. Clarke took another step backwards, placing her fingers on the refrigerator door, ready to slam it and run of necessary.

Rowe let out a slight belch. “Here it comes,” she murmured.

All across Rowe's body the skin began to tighten, pulling taught against fat that was suddenly drawing inwards. Her gigantic belly was pulling upwards into her chest, sucking up her cellulite covered thighs, drawing in the flabby wings beneath her wobbly arms. She let out a groan as fat continued to flow from the extremities of her body into her core. Her feet and hands were exposed now, delicate and beautiful. Then her forearms and calves, slender and toned beneath flawless skin. Next her thighs and upper arms, wonderfully slender and shapely. Moments later all traces of blubber burned away from her head, neck and shoulders, leaving only graceful lines beneath a simply stunning, perfectly symmetrical face. Her red hair seemed to flow like glittering lava, whilst her green eyes sparkled like emeralds above deeply filled ruby lips.

Now fatty deposits only remained on her chest and stomach, quickly fading to a small pot belly beneath a pair of large, firms breasts. And then finally all the fat was gone, sucked inside her and consumed. Rowe smiled coyly. “Do you like?”

Clarke nodded enthusiastically. “That was amazing!”

Rowe giggled, her laugh both childlike and appealing. “That wasn't the best bit!” Her stomach rumbled, loud and echoey in the enclosed space. “Here comes the best bit!” Again she closed her eyes, tighter this time. Her face seemed to be lit with an inner delight. “Boom!” She whispered.

All across her body her muscles began to expand, filling out her sensual form with shapely and defined muscles. With a crack her already sizeable chest nearly doubled in size as magnificent mammary glands expanded atop a growing shelf of rising pectoral muscle. Shoulders broadened to accommodate the tremendous new muscles and chest, whilst her waist narrowed as powerful abs drew in any excess flesh to leave only a deeply chiselled stomach. Rowe groaned with delight, rising onto tiptoes as a glow of power seemed to rise up from her feet, caressing every muscle in her now magnificent body. As the flow reached her shoulders she flexed her arms, biceps like large ripe lemons rising from her toned skin. Finally the flow reached her face and she let out a final gasp of delight before opening her dazzling eyes. “That's the third time I’ve done that during my feast, and every time is better than the last!” Rowe said, relaxing her pose to use her left hand to explore the powerful bicep of her right arm. “It's as hard as rock. You want to touch it?”

Clarke didn't need to be asked twice. She rushed forward to Rowe, her hands clamping down onto a bicep that felt as hard as marble, though her eyes stayed on Rowe's, and suddenly they were kissing with furious intensity. Clarke felt Rowe's powerful fingers on her body, her huge breasts pressing against her skin, the nipples rising to meet her own. In moments she was naked, pulling her own clothes off with desperate haste so that Rowe could lift her easily onto her broad shoulders. Her thighs pressed against Rowe's beautiful face as a tongue more powerful and skilful than any vibrator brought her rapidly to a deep climax that seemed to roll on and on, until her whole body was consumed by its intensity. Finally Rowe lifted her easily to the floor and then they lay down together, Clarke's head resting just beneath Rowe's breasts, listening to a slow and steady heartbeat.

Clarke wanted to speak, but when she tried all she managed was a contented whimper. Rowe stroked her hair tenderly. “I didn't think we’d be doing this a week ago.”

“That was incredible. You're so strong now.” Clarke whispered, raising herself onto her knees to look down at Rowe's newly fantastic figure. “Show me how strong you are,” Clarke murmured.

Rowe stood up gracefully and stretched out her long, powerful arms. The refrigerated room was narrow, so that she could comfortably reach the metal shelves on either side of the room. She placed a hand on the bottom shelf on each side and then slowly, carefully, began to raise her arms, lifting from the shoulders. The shelving began to groan under the upward pressure of her hands, then it began to buckle, and finally it broke free, the metal twisting upwards with her formidable effort. Momentum carried her through the shelf above, and the one above that, so that in a few seconds Rowe was supporting the twisted metal remnants of the shelving units with the tips of her fingers stretched towards the ceiling. She grinned, flexing her engorged biceps to twist the tortured metal still further upon itself. “Impressive, huh?”

“Awesome!” Clarke gasped. She thought for a moment, feeling she needed to add more. “Just awesome.” She paused, then realised there was an awkward silence. “But is it enough to take on Brennan?”

“I don't know,” Rowe said thoughtfully. She walked back to the door and scooped up her clothing. “I feel so powerful now, like I can do anything, but how can I know if it is enough? Brennan is so strong, what if I take her on before I'm ready? I don't even know how strong Brennan might be.”

Clarke thought for a moment. “I do have an idea how we could find out…”

There was a cautious knock at the door. “Come in, lieutenant,” called Brennan.

Lieutenant Jones entered and snapped off a smart salute. As ever, she could smell the nervousness coming off him in waves and as ever it made her feel good. She didn't salute back, but winked at him playfully instead. She smiled inwardly as colour rose across his cheeks.

“Captain Brennan, ma'am. Mr Kormack's compliments, the transfer of stores and fuel from the Glyndwr is nearly complete.” Jones tried to keep his eyes just above Brennan's head as she rose slowly from her desk.

“I'm down here, lieutenant,” Brennan said teasingly. Jones eyes moved down slowly, cautiously, eager not to offend the superior woman before him. “Lieutenant, I know that I have a fantastic superhard body with unbelievable tits and an ass that is just begging to be played with. I can also tell that you're fairly drunk, though you've tried to mask it with a strong coffee. As such, you desperately want to look at my amazing figure which is barely concealed beneath this flimsy, nearly see-through, purple silk lingerie.” She drew her hands slowly and sensuously down across her chest and stomach. “You know I love to have my body admired, so feast your eyes for a moment and I promise I won't even tease you about it.”

Jones let his eyes caress her form, knowing that she could suddenly take offence at him either way. Her description of herself was entirely accurate. She looked simply incredible. He could see her nipples pressing against the silk of her tiny bra, her deep and perfectly formed cleavage rising and falling with her gentle breathing. Brennan smiled, an unusually kind smile. “Thank-you, lieutenant, you've made an old woman feel a better.” Brennan sat back down at her desk and flicked onto the next article about the rebellion, but then stood up, as though indecisive. “You may tell the crew they have eight hours until the Glyndwr departs. I will be visiting commander Dupont.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Jones saluted again and made a quick exit. Safely outside he paused to take a deep breath. Brennan had been nice to him, and somehow that made her more scary than ever.