So…
You have met the brain, the mother, the annoying little sister, and...
A loudmouth navigator who is my twin.
I'm Gin, and you can call me Chef. Everyone does. Well, except for Navi, but she doesn't count.
Welcome to my world... oh, wait... Prof's room. It smells like a chemical factory, with hints of... arousal fluid.
"Hold still, Chef," Prof murmured. Her voice was calm. Clinical. "If you keep twitching, I might spill the sample. And you know how hard it is to extract this particular vintage from Capt."
I rolled my eyes, but as I was told.
I was currently on my knees between Prof's legs. The Alumos physiology is a marvel of nature, or a curse, depending on who you ask.
For me? It is a playground.
Prof was sitting on the edge of her metal desk, surrounded by bubbling vials and holographic charts. Her lab coat was open, revealing her pale, naked body underneath. And right there, protruding from her groin, was her Irita.
It is fascinating. It looks like a penis. It feels like a penis. But it is sensitive in ways that would make a regular man weep.
"I am not twitching because I want to," I mumbled around the head of her member. "I am twitching because you taste like copper and salt."
"That would be the residual conductive gel from the earlier experiment," Prof noted, not looking down. She was busy using a pipette to transfer a thick, pearlescent fluid from a test tube into a centrifuge. "Capt's sperm count is abnormally high today. The Melios density is off the charts. It is fascinating how his emotional state correlates with his viscosity."
I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "You are such a nerd, Prof. Only you could make Capt's jerking off sound like a biology homework assignment."
Prof looked down at me. Her silver eyes, usually so cold, held a flicker of amusement. "And only you, Chef, would complain about the taste while asking for seconds."
She wasn't wrong.
I leaned back in, taking her full length into my throat. The Irita pulsed against my tongue. It was harder than usual. Prof was enjoying this more than she let on.
My hands roamed up her thighs, gripping her hips. I love women. I really do. Their softness. Their curves. But there is something about the power dynamic here on Xeca. We are all deadly weapons, yet we are all bound by this primal need for one man.
And right now, that man was the subject of the goo spinning in the machine next to my head.
The door to the lab hissed open.
I didn't stop. I just flicked my eyes toward the entrance.
Vice walked in. She looked like a storm cloud wrapped in a tight military uniform. Her hair was messy, which was rare for her. She looked like she hadn't slept in a week.
"I hate him," Vice announced, throwing herself onto the narrow cot in the corner of the room. "I absolutely hate him. He is a child. A hormonally charged, idiot child with a God complex."
Prof didn't look up from her microscope. "Let me guess. Capt again?"
"Who else?" Vice buried her face in the pillow. "Do you know what he wants? For the 'morale boosting' reward?"
I pulled off Prof's Irita with a wet pop. "Let me guess. He wants you to dress up as a Krall and chase him around the ship?"
"Worse," Vice groaned, her voice muffled. She turned over, staring at the ceiling. "He wants the maid outfit. The one with the apron that doesn't cover anything. And he wants me to wear a vibrator. All day. While he holds the remote."
I laughed. I couldn't help it. "That sounds like a fun Tuesday."
"It is humiliating!" Vice sat up, her eyes blazing. "I am the Vice Captain of the Xeca! I am supposed to be commanding respect! How can I give orders to the drones when I am buzzing like a defective refrigerator?"
"You agreed to it," Prof pointed out logically. She finally set the pipette down. "To get him to Felt with Private. It was a transaction. You are simply paying the bill."
"I know!" Vice flopped back down. "But... God. Why does he have to be so specific? He even described the frequency settings he plans to use during the briefing. He called one 'The Tsunami'."
I stood up, stretching my legs. My knees cracked. "So back out. Tell him to shove the remote up his own ass."
"I can't," Vice whispered. Her anger deflated, replaced by something softer. Something pathetic. "I promised. And... he looked so happy when I said yes."
Prof and I exchanged a look.
"You are down bad, Vice," I said, walking over to the cot. I sat down next to her. "You are so in love with him it makes me want to vomit."
"I am not in love with him!" Vice snapped, but there was no heat in it. "I am just... biologically compromised. It is the Melios link. It messes with my dopamine receptors."
"Keep telling yourself that," Prof said. She hopped off the desk. Her Irita was still hard, bobbing slightly as she walked over to us. "You need a distraction. Your cortisol levels are spiking. It is bad for your skin."
Vice looked at Prof's naked form, her eyes lingering on the erect member. "And I suppose you have a solution?"
"I always have a solution," Prof said. "I call it the 'Stress Relief Protocol'."
She raised her hand, then clapped. Suddenly, the room was crowded.
Two clones of Prof appeared out of thin air. They were identical to her, down to the nakedness and the erection. They looked at each other, then at us, with that same detached scientific curiosity.
"Three of me," Prof said, her voice echoing in stereo. "One of you. And one Chef for flavor. I think we can make you forget about the maid outfit for an hour."
Oka...
You see it? Here we go...