Tails of the Spiral Arm

Vengeance Displayed

This story is intended to stimulate sexual fantasies, which are sometimes more arousing when they cross the line into barbaric behavior. It does not condone or justify misogyny.

If people enjoy this story and would like to see more, please let me know.

Thanks

I think I deserve more respect on this HUB than I get. True, I merely replace mechanism components in the Safety and Leisure Division and also that a Submain AI interface gives me instructions. But still, how many people on this remote space station operate on their own initiative? It's not like the best of the best get stationed here. No botoid could replace me. They just can't fit into some of the confined work spaces I have to slither into. Even in the 25th century engineers can't seem to grasp that units have to be accessed for repair.

For the past 7 years I have spent my time replacing failed units in vending machines, door opening sensors and locks, surveillance cameras, safety pods and so on. With never a thank-you, a birthday bonus, or a crumb of recognition. And now, they are closing this dump and sending me back to my home world with no transfer to a new job or severance pay.

They are closing Human Utility Base sector U217 because the entire sector is being depopulated. All the colonies are struggling. Every planet has a problem, such as low atmospheric pressure, low atmospheric oxygen, weak magnetic field, or nutrient depleted soils. For this reason, the colonists are being offered transfers to other sectors. Many are leaving while others are choosing to struggle on. It's home to some, I guess, even if it is a shithole. The military will not be providing the stay-behinds security from Mechfiend corsairs or anything else. There won't be any support freighters coming into the HUB because we have already started to decommission it. We have 150 transferees onboard right now, men, women, and children, ready to board a docked passenger transport and ship out to other sectors.

As groups of colonists pass through I have been decommissioning vending machines, escape pods, and security cameras. Some of the rare elements in the mechanisms are worth salvaging and returning to corporate shops. Most of the stuff will now be junk floating alone in deep space. A few of the cameras I have left operational and rerouted the output to my personal vid screen. For reasons that will be clear later, I haven't gotten around to stripping and salvaging one of the escape pods yet.

We also happen to have on board a training mission of female cadets from the officer training academy. Thirteen beautiful and elite young women along with their equally beautiful but more mature commanding officer, pilot, and navigator. These women are all from the leadership guild. They are genetically optimized to have the best genes each parent can contribute to produce an offspring both physically and mentally outstanding. And it shows.

Yes, literally it shows. As you probably suspected by now, I have taken advantage of my ability to manipulate doors and security cameras to view some enjoyable scenery. I adjusted the settings on the door to the shower room used by the cadets to stay open a full 40 seconds now when it is activated. A carefully aimed security camera provides a view of the changing room when the door is open. I have some nice footage of rosy nipples, lovely round asses, and artfully shaved dark delta regions. I think the girls may suspect something is up, but they are proud of their bodies and may even enjoy taunting those to whom their charms will never be accessible.

On one occasion, a fair-skinned thinner cadet with blond hair chopped just above the shoulders came rushing up at the moment the other girls had returned from morning physical training to shower. Hazing, apparently, is something that human nature cannot let go of. The cadets pulled their unfortunate comrade into the room and quickly started to strip her. I got rear-view footage of her toned thigh gap and pussy very briefly as she struggled to stay clothed. Then the door hissed shut. I was disgusted. So close to some real dick stiffener only to be cheated at the last second.

Miraculously, 2 minutes later the door reopened and Cadet Storm lay on the floor, legs splayed apart. "Cadet Storm," a tall dark-haired girl said in a serious voice, "you are guilty of oversleeping and missing P.T. We are keeping the door open as you have been sentenced to public punishment. We sentence you to 10 slaps on your tight pussy with shower flip flops. Then each of your fellow cadets will give you five slaps on your behind with your ass facing the door and five more slaps with your face and cute little tits facing the door. If you agree to this the commanding officer will not be informed of your delinquency, and you will not receive demerits that could count towards your expulsion from the program. Do you accept this punishment?"

"I do," the trembling Cadet Storm said softly.

I watched panting as Cadet Storm twisted and squealed with each firm swat directly on the pink lips of her cunt. The remainder of the punishment was fairly gentle. Even so the tear-stained Cadet Storm pleaded for no more as her tits rocked to and fro with each blow. When viewed from behind her cheeks were bright rosy, but there was no breakage of the smooth skin of her fetching ass.

I had less luck viewing the officer's shower room. I got one quick glimpse of the navigator's ass and pussy as she bent over to pull her panties out of a gym bag. Her legs were spread widely enough that I could see her classy tits hanging down too. A three-pointer, but a quick one.

Captain Mellasa Chase seemed particularly aware and suspicious of the camera, frequently glancing at it and covering herself with a towel when the door opened. She is the sexiest and most arrogant of all the members of the estrogen-rich training mission.. She is short and very curvy with straight jet black hair extending halfway down her back. I have sensed her contempt for genetic normals who have a random assortment of genes from each parent. How nice it would be to blast my inferior sperm into her unprotected vagina, if I could only think of a way to do it.

And then disaster strikes HUB U217. A Mechfiend Corsair brigantine class destroyer has popped out of our saltation gate 2,000 km away. HUB U217 has no arms. The cadet training ship has minimal armaments, and the docked transport is a lumbering, helpless dinosaur. We are doomed. There is literally a zero probability that the Mechfiends could have intercepted or deduced the coordinates of our saltation gate. The probability is mathematically equal to the smallest irrational number greater than zero. There is a traitor on board! Perhaps someone who could hack and upgrade a security cam and watch a careless officer on the command deck typing numbers into a shred terminal.

A transmission from the Mechfiend vessel gives us 15 minutes to surrender before we are deconstructed, turned from atoms and molecules into plasma. Surrender means death or the most brutal forms of slavery imaginable. Captain Chase and the HUB commander consult and agree to surrender if the colonists not suited for slavery are allowed to leave on the transport vessel. Surprisingly the Mechfiends agree. I suspect they reason that dealing with the refugees will just suck up more resources from the United Ethical Corporations Military.

I admire Captain Chase's courage. She will undoubtedly be tortured, interrogated, and, if she survives, sold as a sex slave. The fate of HUB crew members like myself is probably death apart from those few suitable for slavery. The outlook couldn't be bleaker, but the colony refugees at least stand a chance.

We are ordered to return to our quarters, strip naked, and remove all jewelry as we await the arrival of the Mechfiend robots and their human mercenaries. An hour later the lights flicker. Then wing by wing over the next hours we are ordered to proceed to the flight deck. Anyone wearing clothing of any type will be killed. There is a slim chance that wealthy families can pay a ransom and get their loved ones returned. As hard use and abuse turn female sex slaves into jaded shadows of their former selves, they decline in value to traffickers and may become more valuable as kidnap victims. I have a crush on Cadet Storm, the black sheep of the training mission. Her tight pink pussy appears in my dreams now and then. I hope she comes from a wealthy family.

My wing is called. I have the door cracked open so I can peek out. Captain Chase's cabin is three doors down from mine. As soon as her door opens I start out of mine. Perhaps a last chance to appreciate a fine bare ass in motion. Her ass is a beautiful pear shape slightly thick and flawless.

She spins around and snarls, "You're a pig. I've watched you ogling my girls and trying to spy on the officers. You're a pathetic, vulgar voyeur. Even at a time like this your mind can comprehend nothing but sleaze."

"Sorry," I say with a weak smile. "I think you have bigger worries than me at the moment." I admire her slightly thick ass as it proceeds down the hall. As she goes up a set of stairs ahead of me to reach the flight deck I get excited. Her ass crack wobbles from side to side so sexily!

A mercenary instructs us to pause as we approach the entrance to the flight deck. I stand as close to Captain Chase as I can without touching her. She whispers, "If your little hard on touches me I swear I will kill you with my bare hands. You're a weakling, and I am trained in hand to hand combat."

On the flight deck captives, all naked, are being sorted. The colonist refugees are in a roped off area. The better looking women from all sources are in another. These women have already been fitted with control anklets. One approaches a rope line to ask a mercenary something. Her anklet is activated, and she gives a high-pitched wail of agony as she is knocked to the floor, thighs pumping and heels pounding.

The cadets and all other female military members are already restrained in breeding stocks. They are positioned side by side in one line bent over with a low platform behind them. Their thighs are slightly parted for ease of penile penetration. Video of mass fucking of members of UEC Military will make good propaganda material for the Mechfiends, damaging moral and harming recruitment into the UEC Military Additionally, It will be sent to families of the captives if there are ransom negotiations. Captain Chase is motioned forward to stand in two footprints painted on the floor. A scanning ring descends downward around her and rises again. I lust over her small dark triangle of trimmed pubic hair. She is led to the breeding bar where she is restrained, bent over at a ninety degree angle with legs spread wide and tits swinging free. Cameras and monitors are being placed so the faces and pussies of the cadets and their officers can all be recorded for posterity and the enjoyment of those doing the fucking.

The mercenary looks at me and gestures to a Mechfiend robot and says, "Go talk to him."

The robot speaks in a disembodied voice that comes from no direction. "Per our agreement you can fondle the cadets for 25 minutes. Then you have 15 minutes to fuck Captain Chase. You must wear the condom on the breeding bar platform, and you may not ejaculate inside her. We cannot risk a scumbag like you impregnating her.

"Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you," I say as my hard cock bobs in happy anticipation. I think you can picture what happens next. I run my cock down the line of cadet ass cheeks like a kid dragging a stick against a fence railing, up and down the line. I tap cute ass cheeks with my erection. I stroke pussies with a wet finger, dip a finger or two inside the damper ones, and grope tits of various shapes and sizes. I am more than ready when the time come to fuck Captain Chase.

I hump her desperately and angrily. She is the personification of all my frustrations. I insult her. I pull her hair. She begins to respond with cries of pleasure and thrusts back. I grip her hips slaming her with slow, steady plunges as hard as I can. Then it is time to pull out and let the cum gush into the tip of the condom.

I stand for a minute letting the waves of pleasure neurotransmitters wash over me. Suddenly the whole ship jerks, people stagger and a few fall. "They're venting the fuel from the transport. It's a death ship." I yell this several times and panic breaks out. People are running in all directions and being shot with projectile weapons. Others are falling over screaming as control anklets are activated.

I dart down a passageway unnoticed. I get into the one escape pod I left undecommissioned, fire it up, and leave the ship behind to whatever fate awaits. I must admit I feel pride in myself mixed with complete disgust. Who discovered the saltation gate coordinates? Who turned a vending machine into a C+ signaling device? Why, it was me, a genetic nobody and life-long loser. Who fucked that haughty stuck-up bitch until she bucked like a wild thing. That same guy. And who is a human turd with no dignity or honor? Me again. But at least I was smart enough to know the Mechfiends would have no use for me once they had video of me getting my payoff.

I now prepare to go into stasis on the one in a million chance some ship in the distant future detects me and investigates. Heed my tale, oh wedding guest. There was a ship.... Rush off now to your shallow pleasures. I may be along bye and bye.

By the way, I am picked up in that far distant future by a ship crewed entirely by women. The Y chromosome disappeared long ago, as did the need for clothing and modesty. As the only human male in the known universe, I am an object of interest. But that is another story.

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