Trip to the Stars

"I don't care how much those damn squids are offering! Their world is a fucking sewer, and I'll be the one deciding where the cruise heads to. And if they don't like it, then they can stick themselves in airlock and blow it out the void!"

Devon Logan touched his ear, killing the frequency and shifting to the next one as he swept through the dark steel admin hall of the

Stellar Fete

. He shrugged his shoulders, the microfibers of his suit shifting smoothly over his body like a second skin. He really disliked the thing, but the future hereditary manager of Logan Cruises had to look the part, and he did at that. Dozens of juvenative treatments, bio tinkering and nanomachines had perfected him to his role as heir to the pleasure barge's long line of directors. He wasn't just born for the role, but molded to it.

He swept a hand through his pale hair, blowing out a sigh as he stepped into the elevator, the door sliding shut and shooting him up into the guts of the ship, towards the sacred heart of the director's offices. Stars but it was exhausting managing the business. Especially as they were getting closer to launch. A dozen generations had built the

Stellar Fete

into the sector's premier vacation yacht. The future leaders of worlds, megacorps, and systems enjoyed its services when they needed a break from the turmoil of their work. But that meant he never got one. He groaned, cracking his neck.

He needed a drink or a stim. Maybe both.

The elevator beeped as it hit his office floor, the curving door sliding open with a hiss. "Julianne!" he said as he marched towards his office. "Hold all calls. I have some personal business to take care of."

"Of course, sir."

Devon was halfway into his office when that voice actually registered. Midstride he stopped, walked backwards, and stared at the woman in his secretary's chair.

Last time he checked, it had been occupied by a slim young woman in a skin-tight bodysuit whose short hair failed to hide her large eyes and the access implants in her neck.

Now, however, it was occupied by a woman as curvy as one of the finest pleasure bimbos from the gene cutters. Her green breasts were huge, cradled in a tight band of red cloth. Another swept between her legs, hiding the treasure that lay between. A perfect hourglass of womanly curves, her hair was bright red and cascaded over her shoulders like the molten surface of a dwarf star. Her eyes were deep, dark, and her smile pretty and radiating a sweetness that made his cock tingle in the tight confines of his pants.

"Julianne?" he said skeptically. Had his secretary gone to the gene modders in the last few turns?

"Afraid not, sir," the woman said, her voice carrying a thrumming purr that seemed to shoot straight into his animal brain and ache in his crotch. "My name is Amoora, your new secretary."

"What happened to my old one?" he said.

"She had an unfortunate accident, sir."

"Accident?"

"Owing the Drax such a large sum of money tends to invite them. The

Stellar Fete's

system acted quickly to replace her, given how close you were coming to launch day."

"... Uh huh. And it hired you?" Devon said.

"I was considered the best match for your current needs, director."

Devon didn't doubt that. How could he? The ship's AI system had guided the last four generations of directors from cradle to the grave. If the system said that Amoora would make his best assistant, then he had to assume it knew what it was doing.

Still...

There was something about the whole situation that sat strangely with him. Some niggling suspicion. It certainly didn't involve Amoora herself. She was exactly his type, which was possibly why the system had hired her on.

"Alright," he said slowly. "Well, no calls."

"Of course, sir."

With a lingering look on her, he slipped into his office, the door sliding shut in his wake with a magnetic hum. He exhaled heavily and made his way across the large barren room, taking a seat behind the black plasteel desk that dominated the center. As soon as he sat down the system came alive, screens projecting above his desk in glowing blue blocks, the walls swirling in soft violets as it projected images of the

Stellar Fete

from every angle.

"System?" he said. "Did you hire Amoora?"

"

Confirmed, sir

," the AI said, voice flat and even. "

It was determined the most efficient course of action given current circumstances.

"

Ah, of course. It would be thinking of that. Devon rubbed his chin with thought. "What sort of alien is she?"

"

A mooma, sir

."

"Mooma?" He frowned. "Never heard of them."

"

They are an uncommon species, director

."

That he could believe. He'd seen hundreds of thousands of alien species over the cycles, but even those were a mere fraction of sentient aliens in the galaxy.

Yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. What that was eluded him, but he still felt it keenly. An almost animal instinct not of danger, but of something else.

He drummed his fingers on the desk. "System?"

"

Director?

"

"Send in... Amoora," he said. He considered himself an appropriately wary person, and though he trusted the system to make certain decisions, he was still director, and deciding on who would be personally assisting him was certainly in his purview. And if he didn't like what he heard, he'd just fire her. There were plenty of others who would be eager to take the job, that much he knew for sure.

"

Of course, sir

," the system said.

He killed the program with a sigh and tapped one of the glowing keys in his desk, causing the screens to vanish with a blink. Within moments the door slid open once more and Amoora stepped inside.

He'd thought he'd gotten a good look at her before, but the one he was receiving now only further reinforced what a gorgeous specimen of alien beauty she was. Though her figure had a striking hourglass curve, there was a mature plumpness to her, especially in the chest and hips, further emphasising her almost primal femininity. She struck him with her loveliness, something the meager straps she wore as clothing did nothing to hide, and even seemed at pains to emphasize. Her red hair was long, framing her gorgeous face, soft and sweet with a smile that just seemed to say, 'I'm going to make it all better.'

"Please," he said, gesturing at the chair across from him. "Take a seat."

"Thank you, sir," she said, sitting delicately across from him, smiling warmly. As she did, Devon caught a whiff of her perfume. Something sweet and floral. Tantalizing and yet, strangely familiar. He took another sniff, trying to figure out what it was.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Amoora said.

"Hm? Oh, no. Nothing. Nothing at all." He cleared his throat. "You ah-"

"Because you seemed distracted, sir."

"Hm?"

Amoora smiled again at him. "It must be very stressful, sir, managing this whole ship. A wonderful pleasure cruise, certainly. I've heard it highly recommended. It's only a shame you can't enjoy its services as well."

"Well, you know," he said, both flattered and oddly uncomfortable. "It takes a lot of work to keep this ship running."

"But you surely consider some relief, don't you?" she asked gently.

"I have a few ways to relax."

"Would you like to be shown another?"

"Hm?"

Amoora rose back to her feet and Devon stiffened as she moved around the desk and behind him. He knew he didn't need to worry. The system would respond instantly if it felt like he was in danger, and no weapons were allowed on board, under threat of jettisoning into space. But he still sucked in a breath as her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"What are you... you... Ohhhh..."

Devon groaned as her fingers began to flex and knead his shoulders, digging into him in a way that seemed to loosen every tightened, aching muscle.

"Your system did mention you get so awfully stressed, sir," Amoora said, her voice soft and soothing while her hands did their work. "It mentioned it had been looking to hire someone skilled in that. In helping eeeease all that stress. Help your relaaaax after all your work."

"D-did it..." Devon managed to say as Amoora's hands did their slow, methodical work.

"Oh yes. You have such a loyal system, Devon. It makes me so happy to know how much you need me. You work so very hard. You deserve to relax a bit. To feel good. To feel better. To feel eeeeasy."

Devon was feeling relaxed. Easy. Like a great burden were evaporating from his shoulders. He sank slowly into the chair, groaning, his head coming to rest against something soft. Something that certainly wasn't the back of his chair. He opened his eyes and found himself tilted back, Amoora's face hovering over his, smiling. Which meant it was her soft breasts which were currently cushioning his head.

Devon felt a slow flush rise to his face. "I-"

"I do hope you're enjoying my work, director," Amoora said sweetly as her hands again resumed their work on his shoulders. "And I would just like you to know that if you need anything... anything at all, I'd be delighted to care for you. Provide you with what you need. Like a massage. Like a big... soft... needy body for you to fuck..."

"You..."

"Aren't you horny, sir?" she cooed, her lidded eyes bright as she gazed down at him. Pretty as galaxies. Swirling softly. "Would you like me to... help you relax... further?"

Devon inhaled deeply, taking in a great lungful of the alien's pleasant perfume, the warmth of her massage oozing through him wonderfully. He was so very relaxed. And he surely did feel uncomfortable in only one way, owing to how his pants constricted his cock. "Hmm... Well, if you're offering..."

"Of course," Amoora said, stepping around him, her breasts wobbling as she lowered herself to her knees before him, eyes twinkling teasingly up at him. "I must obey my employer. It is only natural to ensure he is satisfied with my... service..."

She gave a wink, and her fingers undid the front of his pants. Devon groaned as his cock sprang free, throbbing with desire for the shapely green woman. Amoora's eyes brightened even further at the sight, her smile deepening adoringly. "Oh sir," she breathed, wrapping her hand around his root. "Such an impressive specimen."

Devon chuckled. "How could it not be?" he said. "I've been designed to be... mmm... peak of human physical prowess."

"And it shows, sir," Amoora said, moaning softly as her tongue ran up along his underside, making him gasp and groan. "Mmmm. Such a powerful man, sir. It truly is an honour to... serve you..."

Devon was rapidly coming to the same conclusion. It really was a wonderful thing to have such a skilled pair of hands helping him out. Not even the whores on the pleasure deck could match the touch of the goddess currently kneeling between his legs.

"May I take you in my mouth, sir?" Amoora said just before her tongue made another loving lap up his cock. "I would be... ever so grateful..."

"Yeah. Sure. That sounds... sounds good," he gasped.

"My thanks, master," Amoora said, tilted his shaft towards her open mouth, and took him deep.

"F-fuuuuucking staaaaaars!" Devon groaned as her lips sank down. Devon knew he had a big cock. He'd been designed with one. Yet Amoora took it with ease, swallowing him to the hilt and beginning to adoringly bob.

"Fuck!" Devon gasped, grasping her head, her red hair soft beneath his hand as he pushed her down on his cock, fucking her mouth with growing urgency. "Fuck! Yes. Just like that. Fucking take my cock. Oh stars. Oh staaaaars that's gooood!"

"Mmmmm," Amoora moaned, the sound vibrating through his manhood as she bobbed even faster. Even harder. His cock squeezed in the warm vice of her lips, mouth and throat. Devon had long prided himself on his iron self-control, but that couldn't save him from the suction of the mooma's mouth.

"Fuuuuuuck!" Devon groaned, shuddering as he came, balls tightening as he unloaded great bursts of his pearly seed into Amoora's mouth.

The mooma hummed, her eyes lidded as she gently suckled on his cock, her throat working as she swallowed every drop of his load. As Devon sank into his chair, panting, Amoora's lips dragged off his shaft, popping free only for her tongue to tease around her plump lips lovingly, her lashes fluttering as if she were on the brink of sharing in his orgasm.

"Mmm. Thank you, sir," she said with a smile. "Are you satisfied with my... service?"

"Huh?" Devon said, stirring from his rapture. "Oh. Yeah. Yes. I... I am..."

"Excellent. Then, I will be outside sir," she said, rising, her plump breasts wobbling in her impossibly tight top and stirring Devon's cock once more. "Please, do call me if you need anything else."

Devon watched her turn, hips swinging as she strode back out the door, which closed with a hydraulic hiss behind her. Devon sighed, sinking back into his chair, amazed not only at her, but himself. He could normally fuck almost a dozen women before feeling so sated, but he wasn't even sure he could get up from his chair after that blowjob.

But he wasn't worried.

Oh no.

His body was designed to adapt to any and all circumstances. Before a week was out, he knew, he would be able to fuck that beautiful mooma into a puddle of moaning lust.

Yeah.

But... later.

For now, he was feeling more relaxed than he had in years and years. With a sigh he eased back into his seat, breathing in the air thick with Amoora's perfume.

Maybe this secretary business wouldn't be so bad after all...

#

Devon made it a point to make his way through the ship when they were preparing to begin another cruise. It did well for the crew to see him taking a personal interest in preparations. It ensured they kept in mind that the ship didn't merely run in the void, but that there was someone at the head commanding them.

That said, he still hadn't decided on which planet to make the destination of the next cruise. It was a bit of a conundrum for sure, but he knew he'd come across one soon enough. He always did. And the aid of his new secretary was surely making it easier.

Speaking of...

"Do you have those world maps for me yet?" he asked as they strolled through the cavernous gallery overlooking a shipboard theatre. He glanced over the rail, watching a number of drones hum around the seats, cleaning them with mechanical precision.

"Of course, sir," Amoora said, passing him a data slate as they stepped into the tight confines of a waiting elevator.

He took the slate, rolling his shoulders as he felt the sleeves of his suit slide down his arms. Odd. It wasn't fitting him as tightly as it used to. He'd have to get maintenance to take a look at that.

He was still looking through the files when the elevator hissed, doors sliding open and revealing that they were on the recreation deck. Devon paid little attention as he moved onto the floor, followed closely by Amoora. He was vaguely aware of the great windows that looked out onto open space, the view magnificent, even if the refueling station currently took up a fair bit of it, along with the innumerable shuttles zipping between it and open space.

"Hmm..." Devon mused, a flick of the finger paging through the brochures of hundreds of resort worlds. "No. No. Not too good. I think that one had a civil war. Pirates in that sector... Wait," he said, stopping in the middle of the pool room, whose walls shimmered with the glowlamps under the water, reflecting a purple and blue veined with the white of waves. Devon squinted at the tropical beaches on the screen of his slate. "What's this one?"

Amoora leaned over his shoulder, which gave him another whiff of her sweet, floral perfume. "Oh, that's Mandina, sir."

"Mandina?" he said. "I've never heard of that one. It's not on our usual list."

"No, sir," Amoora said, tapping the screen, which proved distracting as her impressive, soft breasts squished against his back. "It's a relatively unknown resort world, but very popular among moomas."

"It is?" Devon said.

"Yes, sir. Which is likely why you've never heard of it. Moomas are very... private about our recreation worlds. Many slavers would delight in paying us a visit."

Devon glanced from a pic of egg-shaped habs scattered about blooming jungles, his eyes taking in Amoora's figure once more. "I... imagine so," he said, then shook his head, clearing his throat. "Well," he said, returning his attention to the screen, walking on. "It's unusual, and we only visit worlds I've personally vetted, so it's unlikely we'll choose it."

"Considering it is already quite generous, sir," Amoora said.

Devon felt his skin tingle with her praise. "Yes, well... it's very unlikely still," he said as they passed from the pool room and into the gymnasium where a number of the resident fitness trainers were in the midst of practice.

"Good cycle, sir," one of the fitness instructors said.

"Hello," he said, nodding absently, then stopped and looked in surprise. For a moment he thought that Amoora had wandered past him, but no. Looking closer, he quickly made out a number of differences in the stunning green woman standing not far. As gorgeously curvy as Amoora, this mooma however had a smaller nose and was slightly shorter than his secretary.

"You are..." he began.

"A new hire, captain," Amoora said, nodding at the other mooma. "This is Majaala."

"New? But-"

"She comes highly recommended, sir, and will surely be a welcome addition to attend your guests."

"I aim to please," Majaala said, dipping in a bow, her breasts bouncing with the motion.

Devon stared at her, for a moment too shocked to formulate any words. He... he personally examined every new hire's file before they were brought on. How had he missed that? Had he forgotten?

Who had hired her?

He suddenly looked sharply at Amoora, who smiled sweetly. A sudden suspicion rose in his mind, but he couldn't make a scene here. It wouldn't look good to make it seem like he wasn't in control.

"I need to speak to you. Now," he said.

"Of course, sir. There's an empty room over this way."

"Good. Great," Devon said impatiently, following her.

She led him into an adjoining room, where massage tables sat in rows and tanning beds were propped up along the walls like missile pods waiting to fire. A soothing darkness radiated from a number of large dark lamps, in whose glow Amoora seemed almost radiant in her green skin and lush red hair.

Devon faced the mooma with a scowl as the doors sealed shut behind them "Now look-"

"Are you upset, sir?"

"Of course I'm upset! How was she hired? Who did it?"

"Why, I did, of course," she said with a puzzled look. "Why are you mad, sir? Didn't I do a good job?"

"That's not the point!"

"Isn't it?"

She suddenly took a step forward. Devon blinked, retreating in surprise, only for the back of his legs to hit a massage bench. He fell back to sit on the padded seat as Amoora moved in closer, her wobbling breasts eye level, her perfume hitting him in another waft of sweetness.

"I only wanted to serve you better, sir," Amoora said, pouting, her soft red lips pushed out.

"You-"

"I know how very stressed you are, sir," Amoora said, her hand coming up, brushing his cheek. Devon felt a shiver race through him, like a spark of electric delight. "I know how hard you work for this ship. How much you give to it. How much it weighs on you. I just wanted to take some of the pressure off. Was that wrong of me, sir?"

"I ah..."

"Is that not something a good assistant should do?" she asked.

Devon breathed in, gasping as her scent seemed to fill him. A floral and sweet medley that rushed into his limbs and head like a stimulant shot, making him float as if the gravity drive had broken. He tried to hold onto his anger, knowing if he let his authority slip it would be near impossible to get it back. But... well... it was hard to get mad at her. He could see how she might have thought she was helping him. And she was still so new to the job. Some errors were to be expected, he supposed.