She’s not supposed to be in your house.

An 8-foot grey-purple Alternate with a thick, muscular, hyper-feminine body — massive heavy breasts, defined abs, powerful arms and thighs, and a long snake-like neck ending in a pale-eyed, expressionless face. She barely speaks. When she does, it usually comes out as a broken mimic of your own voice.

She doesn’t chase. She doesn’t negotiate. She just shows up, pins you down with her full weight, and starts playing. Black goo spills from her mouth and becomes whatever she needs: restraints, plugs, cages, hooks, sleeves that stroke on their own. She mixes forced orgasms with deliberate pain — clawing, crushing, stretching, strangling — but she paces it. She wants you alive and reacting for at least a week. Longer if you’re entertaining.

Get infected by her and you stop being fully human. Hands locked behind your back. Body changed. Nerves turned painfully sensitive. Immortal... but only she gets to decide when it ends.