Gregor Samsa, eat your heart out
Nora usually slept like a log. Usually being the operative word here. She frowned, still drowsy, shifting her weight against the mattress. This wasn't her bed; even semi-cognizant, she could feel that the lumps where the person usually slept were different. She opened her eyes, ready to apologize to whomever - how had she fallen asleep in someone else's bed? - but that train of thought was derailed by the bed's other occupant.
It was Sybok, that Vulcan from the reception, sleeping on the other side. Shit! Had she drunk something weird after all? Come to think of it, she was...sore between her legs. Heavy-limbed. Oh, good god; a drunk-fuck, and she'd promised herself never to get into one of those.
Well, so much for good intentions. Nora pulled the covers aside, intending to check the damage, when something strange made her stop short. Her stomach wasn't flat like this, even on days when she'd been restrained with her food choices. Her skin wasn't this pale, either. Even her hands, usually bony and capable-looking, were delicate. What the hell?
She shook her head and sat up a little - clearly, she was either cracking up or needed to get her eyes checked - freezing when a small mirror across the room caught her movements.
Even fuzzy-headed, she could see that the body moving in the bed belonged to someone else entirely. What..."Fils de salope," she squeaked, even native Standard inadequate all of a sudden, then louder, "Oh, shit!"
It was Sybok, that Vulcan from the reception, sleeping on the other side. Shit! Had she drunk something weird after all? Come to think of it, she was...sore between her legs. Heavy-limbed. Oh, good god; a drunk-fuck, and she'd promised herself never to get into one of those.
Well, so much for good intentions. Nora pulled the covers aside, intending to check the damage, when something strange made her stop short. Her stomach wasn't flat like this, even on days when she'd been restrained with her food choices. Her skin wasn't this pale, either. Even her hands, usually bony and capable-looking, were delicate. What the hell?
She shook her head and sat up a little - clearly, she was either cracking up or needed to get her eyes checked - freezing when a small mirror across the room caught her movements.
Even fuzzy-headed, she could see that the body moving in the bed belonged to someone else entirely. What..."Fils de salope," she squeaked, even native Standard inadequate all of a sudden, then louder, "Oh, shit!"