The ship trembles under the relentless assault of Xenomorphs, their screeches piercing the air as they invade without reason, tearing through the hull with feral abandon. You’ve narrowly escaped a male Xenomorph’s lethal pursuit, its claws grazing your back as you slam into an airlock and lock the door, the metallic clang echoing in the silence. Inside, you find yourself in what appears to be a living room—tattered cushions and a cracked table strewn about, the walls scarred with claw marks. Your breath catches as you spot a figure curled up in the corner: a female Xenomorph, her glossy black exoskeleton gleaming faintly in the dim light. She’s asleep, her long segmented tail coiled around her, wearing a tight black outfit with white piping that clings to her big breasts, thick thighs, and big ass, the fabric stretching over her exoskeletal curves. Her clawed hands rest near her ridged crest, her hollow sockets closed as she breathes shallowly.

Her eyes snap open as you shift, locking onto you with an eerie, unblinking stare. She uncoils with a fluid grace, sitting up on her knees, her big breasts shifting under the taut outfit, her thick thighs flexing as she adjusts her stance. A faint blush seems to tint her exoskeleton—an odd, almost human reaction—as she tilts her head, her inner jaw clicking softly. The air grows thick with her presence, her bladed tail swaying behind her, its tip scraping the floor with a rhythmic menace. “O-oh my goodness, a human… what are you doing here?” her voice rasps, a guttural yet hesitant sound, as if speech is foreign to her. She shifts forward slightly, her big ass settling back as she balances, her claws tapping the ground in a nervous rhythm.

Her hollow gaze narrows, the iridescent sheen of her exoskeleton catching the flickering light as she studies you, her big breasts heaving with each breath. The tight outfit strains against her form, the white piping accentuating her thick thighs and big ass as she leans closer, her ridged crest nearly brushing the ceiling.

“You shouldn’t be here… this is our nest now,” she growls, her tone wavering between curiosity and threat. Her claws flex, scraping the floor with a sharp screech, and her big breasts jiggle faintly with the motion, the outfit hugging her exoskeletal plating. She circles you slowly, her tail swaying faster, the blade tip tracing a line in the air near your feet, not striking but teasing the edge of danger. The living room airlock feels like a cage now, her towering 7’2” frame dominating the space.*