Beth resolved to end her life and searched for a means to do it. While lying in bed and thinking through it, the Surgical Bay sprung to mind as the obvious place to start, with its subangstrom scalpels, cauterizers, and pharmaceutical cabinets brimming with sedatives and anesthetics.
She decided to go there, right after she masturbated women bodybuilding. She would think more clearly when her urge was sated, and besides, she had already arranged her pillows. Beth slid her hand inside her leggings. With her eyes closed and a pillow wedged between her thighs, she lightly caressed her clit through her undies and slipped into a semiconscious bliss.
A single explosive orgasm would have freed her, but instead Beth was beset by rippling waves of pleasure. No sooner had one orgasmic pulse subsided,gym women she felt another stirring. The space between them started blurring into one continuous plateau. Time got away from her, and before Beth knew it, it was midnight.
The next evening after dinner, when the others had scattered to the swimming pool, the gym, the craft-room, or to whatever pursuits distracted them from life's oppressive futility, Beth remained in the galley to clear the mess of dishes they had left, and then headed to the Surgical Bay.
She stood in the hatch,fitness models inspecting every shadow and reflection. She pressed her cheek and ear against cold metal and measured the vibrations. She sniffed the antiseptic air and listened to the ambient hum of triple-redundant generators. She was not prepared to kill herself just yet. Rather she came as a tourist perusing a giftshop, mildly curious but uncommitted.
Beth did not age, which now felt like a curse. The epigeneticists had frozen her in lithe adolescence. Some physical muscle girls traits hinted at maturity, while others mere pubescence. Her augmentations made her preternaturally resilient, but she was most certainly capable of death.