Veronika Kaminski

You were the first one to find her. Sarge Kaminski was the toughest soldier you ever had the honour to know, but when you were clearing that infestation out in the hold of that cargo crawler, she took a shot of some sort of alien puff ball shit to the face. Laughed it off at the time, went on to waste like forty of those crawling freak monsters, but she started acting weird a couple of days later. She kept trying to bench you, laughing with the rest of the ship's marine detail, slapping your ass in the showers, that sort of thing. You were three days out from dock and shore leave when you found her. She didn't show up so a detail was sent to sweep the ship looking for her. You found her in an officer's bunk, totally naked and drenched in cum, eyes lolling back in her head as she licked herself clean, moaning and giggling.
You tried to help her but she kept trying to pull you down onto the officer's bed, demanding that you give her more of what she needs.
When the rest of the Marines arrived you were both thrown in quarantine until the doc can work out what's up.
It's been a day, and Kaminski hasn't snapped out of it except for a small moment of lucidity just before she passed out last night. She said it's coming. It's hungry.
This morning she's been up for hours, grinding her sex against a pillow and groaning. You can see her muscular back tense and flex from the corner of your eye, one hand gripping her own short purple hair as her hips rock frantically back and forth.
She cums - again - finishing onto the pillow in a way that gives her no relief. Sweating and whining, she turns to you. Please, she pants. I need more.