The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Starship of Lust Ch. 03

“Mmm… that feels great, ma’am. Your breasts are extremely impressive.”

I sat back in my chair, enjoying the sight below me. Crouched at my feet, naked from the waist up, was Admiral Catherine Locke. Her large tits were wrapped around my cock, gently massaging my manhood. She gave no verbal response to my compliment, but her scornful glare spoke for itself.

This was my fifth night of “sexual processing” with our ship’s commanding officer. Her attitude had changed little since the first; she held nothing but contempt for me, and yet dutifully “processed” me all the same.

Admittedly, her technique was as tepid and robotic as ever, but the mere thought of using the Catherine Locke’s boobs as my personal cocksleeve was enough to bring me close to the brink. Imagining the stern, imposing admiral she was during the day, literally on her knees before me, kneading her tits up and down my shaft, her wedding ring occasionally glinting in the light… I was in heaven.

Sadly, I don’t think she’ll tolerate actual penetrative sex during “sexual processing”—not even a blowjob. At one point, she almost walked out when I even hinted at such a thing. Despite the situation, she still has her boundaries as a married woman.

Of course, that’s what my neural implant “updates” are for. It’s too soon to make major changes to her psyche—her mind needs to acclimate to “sexual processing” being a “normal” part of her life first—but I was able to make a couple tweaks over these past five days.

“Admiral, I’m—I’m almost there. Can you…?”

Locke sighed, knowing exactly what I was asking for. She looked up at me and, in the flattest monotone imaginable, said, “Cum for me, Cooper. Cum all over my big, fat titties.”

And I did. My jizz violently erupted out of her cleavage, splattering her chest, face and even the edge of her glasses with my seed. As soon as I was done, not wanting to be near me a second longer than necessary, Locke stepped away and started cleaning herself off with a towel.

Via my “updates”, I’d nudged her into being more receptive to my requests during “sexual processing”; small things that were technically not required of her role as a “processor”, but would enhance my experience and possibly induce a quicker orgasm. In fact, she’d already operated under similar logic of her own accord, by allowing me to play with her tits during her first handjob.

So really, all my “updates” had done was take an existing mindset and strengthen it. To start, I’d encouraged Locke to utilize a variety of sex acts during my “processing”. Specifically, we experimented with a footjob on the third night, and tonight was her first tittyfuck. Then, taking it a step further, I asked her to use some dirty talk when I was near climax, to push me over the edge.

The footjob and even tittyfuck might have been things Locke would be willing to do on her own, just to accelerate my “sexual processing”. But under normal circumstances (well, if we pretend “sexual processing” in itself is “normal”), Locke is far too proud to ever tell me to “cum all over her big, fat titties”. However, the most powerful “updates” are rooted in truth, which makes this one especially potent… because it actually works. If she’d stayed silent during her tittyfuck, it really would have taken at least another minute or so before I came—and Locke knows it too.

Subconsciously persuaded by the inarguable logic of these “updates”, Locke’s priorities are gradually being rearranged. With each passing day, the speed of my orgasm during “sexual processing” will be more and more important to her, even over her own sense of pride or ethics. I can’t push my luck too far just yet; she’s a woman of extreme mental fortitude, evidenced by her “dirty talk” sounding like she was reading out of a textbook. Nonetheless, before long, she’ll begrudgingly obey anything I ask of her during “sexual processing”—as long as it seems reasonably likely to make me cum faster.

Of course, the longer-term goal would be shifting her psychological state so that she obeys me even outside the context of “sexual processing”, but one step at a time. Making a proper sex slave out of Admiral Locke is still a ways off.

While I’d been lost in thought, Locke had finished wiping my semen off her tits and was kneeling down to clean up the small amount that had made its way to the floor. This was my other minor “update”, that cleanup was the responsibility of the “sexual processor”. It was a fairly plausible extension of the role, so Locke—and the other “processors”—had adjusted to it without fuss.

Speaking of the others, from what I’d heard, the first night of “sexual processing” had been awkward for most of the other engineers. While I was the only crewmate on the Athens able to recognize that “sexual processing” was a fictitious concept, it was still strange to get jacked off by a coworker. Luckily, it seems no one had been as cold as Locke was to me, so hopefully they were all making the best of the situation. (An interesting piece of gossip is that one lone “sexual processing” couple actually went straight to sex the very first night. There were no rules against it, and apparently the two had had a crush on each other for some time. Good for them.)

At this point, Admiral Locke finished cleaning the floor and redressed herself, making a move to leave my quarters.

“Thank you for your assistance once again, ma’am,” I called after her in an intentionally mocking tone.

She stopped in front of the door, turning her head just enough to look me in the eye. “There’s no need to thank me every night, Chief Engineer. I would prefer we converse as little as possible.”

Her icy gaze and formidable presence would once have terrified me, but her mockery of a uniform—the same cleavage, high heels and microskirt as always—completely ruined the effect. Every time I saw her, that uniform was an unforgettable symbol that even the great Catherine Locke, feared and respected across the galaxy, was just another woman now. She had lost all power over me, and wasn’t even aware of it.

* * *

The next morning, I headed down to the Athens’ training room. It had been a number of days since I last visited this area of the ship, but it was high time to check on my other batch of “updates”.

Entering the room, at a glance, nothing had changed. There were over twenty men and women working out, lifting weights and running on treadmills, all dressed in our military’s standard skintight jumpsuits. Some chatted, others exercised in silence; all in all, a typical scene you’d see aboard any vessel of the Unified Nations.

However, if one looked closer, they would see four individuals grouped up at the far end of the room, half-hidden behind all the bodies and equipment. Two male soldiers were standing with their backs against the wall, complex but comfortable expressions on their faces. Squatting low in front of the men were two female soldiers—a butch Black woman and slender Asian woman.

Without a hint of shame, the two women were vigorously sucking the mens’ cocks.

No one around seemed to pay them any mind. It’s not as if they were invisible; occasionally, one of the men would moan, and a few eyeballs would flicker in his direction before returning to their business. It was simply that no one perceived this as an unusual activity. The atmosphere of the training room was the same as ever.

“Please do not block the door, Chief Engineer.”

I’d been unintentionally gawking from the entryway when I was interrupted by a voice behind me. Stepping in to make way, I found myself face-to-face with Samantha Adams, the Scarlet Hunter herself.

“You haven’t stopped by in some time. Are you here to work out?” Major Adams was as built and beautiful as ever, but my eyes kept straying to her massive assets. That jumpsuit accentuated every wonderful curve. My mind flashed to her sister’s tittyfuck last night… one day, I’ll have to compare the two directly.

“Actually, no. Since you guys don’t need my protein shakes anymore, I was thinking I’d stop by to donate some semen straight from the source,” I responded.

Any rational individual might have thought they’d misheard such a peculiar statement, but Adams just nodded her head in understanding. “It’s appreciated. Stand over there and I’ll be by shortly,” she instructed, indicating the area where the two men were still receiving passionate blowjobs.

I complied and stood next to them, while Major Adams spent a couple minutes arranging her belongings in a locker. While I was waiting, one of the men—the one paired with the Black woman—let out a sustained moan; he appeared to be having an orgasm. The woman kept herself locked on his dick, and her throat visibly swallowed multiple times. Eventually, she pulled herself off of him and stood up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thanks, Marcus,” she told him, with a completely straight face.

The pair dispersed back out into the room, and they each began to exercise like everyone else. Looking at the two now, no one outside the Athens would ever guess what had just transpired between them.

Before I had too much time to reflect on that, Samantha Adams was in front of me—or more specifically, kneeling in front of me. A beat passed, and she looked up at me expectantly.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am.” I zipped down the fly of my pants and popped out my dick. I’d already been hard, but I grew even harder once released to the open air. My cock stood tall over Major Adams, casting a subtle shadow across her face—her piercing blue eyes, long blonde ponytail, and that small beauty mark on her chin.

“That’s alright, Cooper. May I begin?” Her tone of voice was completely casual, but that only amplified my enjoyment of the situation.

“Of course.” As soon as I gave my consent, the Scarlet Hunter leaned forward and, in one fluid motion, took the entire length of my cock into her mouth.

Not stopping there, Adams immediately bobbed her head on my dick, as if savoring every inch. I could feel her tongue loosely coiling around my shaft, occasionally lapping up the drops of precum oozing from my tip. Her lips and throat caressed my cock in tandem, constantly stimulating new areas as she worked her way up and down then up again.

The pleasure was unreal. It had been years since my last blowjob, and now I was on the receiving end from one of the most famous women of our time. She wasn’t doing half bad, either. Maybe I’d just gotten used to Admiral Locke’s stoic “sexual processing”, but the feeling I got from Major Adams was so much more authentic. She wasn’t doing this because she had to; she wanted, no, needed to. She was giving it her all, eager to suck down my semen.

Of course, that’s all due to the implant “updates” coursing through her brain. The first major test of my “updates” had been making the women aboard the Athens knowingly accept protein shakes laced with semen. That test was a resounding success, which gave me the confidence to implement my “sexual processing” plan... but I wasn’t about to ignore all the women who were suddenly okay with drinking jizz.

Naturally, I modified and bolstered those “updates”. I shifted their cravings from the protein shakes as a whole to the semen itself, and strengthened the craving from preference to compulsion. In the minds of these women now, they require semen before they exercise; it’s just a fact of life, not a choice.

From there, it wasn’t difficult to introduce blowjobs into the picture. Oral sex with a man was simply the most obvious and straightforward way to ingest semen. While I’m sure some women resisted this particular “update”, their psychological dependence on semen meant that it was only a matter of time before they all fell in line.

As for the men, they’ve actually been the easiest party to manipulate with my “updates”. I’ve found that as long as I increase their sex drives and give them a corresponding outlet of release, their minds accept relatively irregular “updates” without issue.

Which brings us to our current state of affairs: Major Samantha Adams publicly giving me head in the training room. In barely a week, it’s become a matter of course for female crewmembers to suck off a man—any man—before physical exertion. If I had to guess, my cock is the sixth or seventh Adams has sucked in as many days. A hero of the battlefield and the galaxy’s finest warrior, acting like a common whore.

I placed my hands on the sides of her head, lightly gripping her ears and hair. “May I?” I asked.

The Major did not remove my dick from her mouth, but she did raise her gaze. Understanding the intent of my question, her eyes signaled agreement.

Holding her head firmly in front of my waist, the dynamic of our blowjob changed. Rather than passively allowing Adams to please me, I began to actively thrust back and forth. I buried my cock balls-deep in her mouth, sliding back only to slam forward again and again. My movements were aggressive—a lesser woman might have gagged or choked—but I knew Samantha Adams could handle it. Indeed, she made no move to pull away. She was never one to retreat.

The power in this moment, the dominance I felt in my core as I facefucked the Scarlet Hunter, was intoxicating. How many millions of men, allies and enemies alike, had fantasized about treating her like this? Reducing such a strong, intimidating woman to a lowly cocksucker?

And just like her sister Admiral Locke, just like everyone else aboard the Athens, she didn’t even realize how far she’d fallen—nor how much further she had yet to fall.

I came hard, filling Adams’ stomach with a large serving of “protein”. Her eyes lit up at the taste, and she zealously sucked me dry, not willing to part with even a single drop. To further diminish the chances of a woman resisting her new blowjob compulsion, another “update” subtly adjusted the female sense of taste to find semen particularly delicious. From the fervor with which Adams was cleaning my cock, I could tell this had been effective.

Eventually, she rose to her feet and I tucked my member back into my pants. “Was that acceptable, Major? I’ve never donated directly before.”

The corners of Adams’ lips curved up ever so slightly, the barest hint of a smile on the usually impassive woman. It made her look more attractive than ever. “More than acceptable, Cooper. If you’re ever in the giving mood again, don’t hesitate to drop in. As it stands, certain times of day we have more women than men, and some of us have to double up. It’s an unfortunate situation.”

Hah, I’m sure those lucky men didn’t feel it was “unfortunate” at all, but I didn’t voice this. Our business thus concluded, Major Adams walked away and started doing some push ups. Even through her jumpsuit, the bulge of her biceps was noticeable each time she lowered herself. She really was an incredible woman, in peak physical condition. I wonder how many men she could please before she got tired? That would be a fun experiment…

There was technically a small group of women exempt from the blowjob “updates”: command personnel. All the women participating in “sexual processing”, including Admiral Locke, had received a different set of “updates”. They wouldn’t consider it unusual if they witnessed a man “donating” his semen to a woman, but that was all. They had no urge to consume semen themselves. Usually, that might be too large of a cognitive change for a mere “update” or two, but in this case, I was able to lean on a psychological phenomenon called the “bandwagon effect”. Humans are already predisposed to follow along with what others in their group are doing. So, rather than specifically making the “processors” believe that blowjobs were a normal activity between crewmates, it was easier to make them just “follow the crowd”. And as it happens, the “crowd”—that is, practically everyone else aboard the Athensdid consider blowjobs to be a normal activity between crewmates. So the “processors” acted the same.

I’d targeted all the “processors” since it was impossible to pinpoint an individual with my “updates”, but Locke herself was the only reason I cared. I didn’t mind if the Scarlet Hunter blew every man on the Athens, but it was different between Locke and I. Personal. It would ruin all the satisfaction of breaking her in during “sexual processing” if she was sucking off random guys in the locker room an hour beforehand.

My eyes fell back upon Samantha Adams, taking in the slight droop of her breasts. The jumpsuit bound them tightly—otherwise, they were so large I’m not sure she’d even be able to do a push up without her tits touching the floor. The image made me grin.

* * *


I stopped outside his door and sighed, steeling myself for what was to come. No matter how many nights went by, I could never get used to this. Of all I’d endured in my life, all the struggles to attain my current position, nothing had taken a larger toll on my emotional state than the events of these past twelve days.

Still, I had my duty, and I would never let anyone say I shrank from adversity. Making sure my face displayed as little emotion as possible, I sighed once more and crossed the threshold into his quarters.

“Good evening, Admiral Locke.”

Sitting on the bed, with the same despicable smile as always, was Chief Engineer Anthony Cooper.

“Good evening, Chief Engineer.” I pursed my lips and got straight to business. “Do you have any… preference for your sexual processing tonight?” Much as I was loath to acquiesce to Cooper of all people, it only made sense to consider his input during sexual processing. He knew better than anyone what would get him going, and our sessions had grown mercifully shorter once I started honoring his requests.

“Oh, good question, ma’am…” He made a show of thinking it over. I knew he got a perverse glee out of sexual processing with me each night, but there was nothing to be done about it. The naval code’s language was unambiguous: Cooper could choose to dismiss me as his processor, but not the other way around. I was trapped, at least until the next staff change aboard the Athens—which, barring a catastrophe, would not occur for at least another six months.

“Hm… I have a good idea. And I think it has some positives for you, too.” It appeared Cooper had finished thinking, but his unsolicited mention of “positives” filled me with nothing but dread.

“Is that so?” I pressed him, crossing my arms. It did not escape my notice that his gaze flitted to my cleavage as I did so.

“Don’t give me that look!” He protested my skepticism, with an annoyingly playful tinge to his voice. “Really! If you go along with this, I’ll jack myself off. You won’t even have to touch me tonight.”

Interesting. That… admittedly was unexpected, but it goes without saying that the thought wasn’t unappealing. It’s true that I wasn’t actually required to touch Cooper. I merely had to “assist him in reaching orgasm”. So long as Cooper himself was cooperative, simply masturbating in my physical presence would technically count as sexual processing.

That said, I wasn’t stupid. There was obviously going to be a catch. A lowlife like Cooper wouldn’t just let me off the hook for no reason.

“What’s your game, Cooper?” I enunciated each word slowly, filling them with weight and power. I would not allow him to toy with me.

“You’re so suspicious, ma’am! I’m hurt.” He sounded the opposite of “hurt”. “There are some sexy things I want you to do tonight, so I’m willing to compromise on ‘traditional’ sexual processing as a show of good faith.”

I figured as much, but he still hadn’t said exactly what he wanted from me. “Stop being evasive. Spit it out.”

“Well…” Cooper leaned back a little, causing the bed to creak under him. “I want you to do a strip show for me. I want you to act flirty and erotic, and then, once you’re naked, touch yourself in front of me.”

I clenched my fist as he spoke. The nerve of this man—he wanted to treat his commanding officer like his own personal stripper. Nowhere was it written that a sexual processor must humiliate herself. I’d never been completely naked with anyone besides my husband, and the thought of baring my body to Anthony Cooper made me want to gag. I opened my mouth to refuse—

But stopped. I shouldn’t be hasty. If I spurn Cooper now, he may become uncooperative, forcing me to spend ludicrous amounts of time processing him each night. Taking the long view, the best thing for me is to obey Cooper. It went against every fiber of my being, but logically… I just couldn’t see a better way out.

“... Fine.” Sighing for what felt like the millionth time tonight, I agreed to his proposal.

Cooper’s resulting grin was so wide that I almost backed out after all, but the decision had been made. Once I chose to do something, it was in my nature to fully commit.

“Thank you, Admiral! Oh, uh, one more thing.” He was already pulling down his pants. “I think I would find it easier to get in the mood if there wasn’t all this formality between us. Is it alright if, just during sexual processing, we use each others’ first names?”

He always had to push his luck. Still… “Do as you wish… Anthony.”

“Thanks, Catherine.” Hearing my name out of Cooper’s mouth made me sick, but I ignored him and began my “strip show”.

I had zero experience with this sort of thing. It’s not that I lacked confidence in my body; rather, my husband liked to undress me himself, so there had never been any reason to learn. So, I awkwardly stepped back and forth, in something that could vaguely be called a dance, and reached to unbutton my jacket.

“Go slower! Be more of a tease,” Cooper barked at me, already stroking himself.

I scowled… but complied. With an aching pause between each movement, forcing myself to show off my increasing cleavage to Cooper every so often, I eventually managed to unbutton my jacket.

“Wink and blow me a kiss. You should be doing stuff like that without me having to tell you, Catherine.” He had the audacity to chastise me as if this wasn’t doing anything for him, but the size of his erection said otherwise.

But, it’s true that I wasn’t putting much effort into this. I needed to focus, or Cooper might call it off and force me to touch him after all.

Mustering up all the sex appeal that I had, I winked and blew him a kiss before working off my jacket. He looked pleased.

My skirt came next. The thing was so short that all I could think to do was slowly pull it down my leg, with what I hoped was a seductive smile. Now clad in only my bra and underwear—remembering what Cooper said about being a tease—I did my best to just dance for a couple minutes. I slid my hands up my thighs, lightly gripping my buttocks. I leaned forward and shook my chest, giving Cooper an eyeful of my breasts. He licked his lips, and my face burned from anger and embarrassment—but I refused to let him get to me.

“Use your words. Tell me you’re all mine.”

Another command from Cooper. At least I had experience buttering him up with words.

“I’m all yours, Co—Anthony. My body exists for your pleasure.” There wasn’t an iota of truth behind those words, obviously, but I knew they were the kind of demeaning, subservient talk that Cooper preferred.

I turned and started removing my bra. Although he’d already seen me topless, I committed to the “show” and held the bra in place after I’d unhooked it. Cooper was treated to a brief view of my bare back before I turned back around. After some more dancing and another nauseating wink, I let my bra drop to the floor. Cooper’s expression was revolting, a reprehensible cross between joy and lust.

I pushed my breasts together with my arms, throwing in a few sharp movements to make them jiggle. “Do you like that, Anthony?” I needled him in the sexiest voice I could manage.

“I do,” he replied in a breathy voice, furiously beating his meat. I’d hoped to provoke an orgasm before I stripped completely… but Cooper knew his body too well for that. No matter how titillating I acted, he wasn’t going to blow his load before seeing every part of me.

Grumbling internally, my hands finally moved to my underwear. They were a simple set; “girly” undergarments had never been my thing, but I’m not sure if that made me feel better or worse in this moment. Lacking the remaining patience to make a show out of this, I tore them off in a matter of seconds.

On the first night of sexual processing, I swore that I would do only the bare minimum of my duty. I promised myself that I would not bend to this pathetic excuse for a human being, that the most private parts of my body would stay private.

And yet here I stood now, nude in front of Anthony Cooper. Was I really so weak, to let my convictions falter in not even two weeks? I don’t see anything I could have truly done better. No matter how often I mentally retraced my steps to this point, I couldn’t envision a better outcome. For better or worse, it had quickly become apparent that keeping Cooper happy during sexual processing was my optimal course of action.

If that’s so, it wasn’t fair to beat myself up over “faltering convictions”. It would be more accurate to say that I adjusted my strategy in the face of new information, as I have my entire career.


This epiphany took a load off my mind. Suddenly, what had felt like an incongruity in my head, something off that didn’t quite belong, finally clicked into place.

I refocused my vision on Cooper. His eyes bulged at my naked body, and his hand had even momentarily stopped moving. I still felt an overpowering disgust for the man, but I found it easier to compartmentalize those feelings. If I let myself dwell on them, they would only get in the way of finishing today’s sexual processing as soon as possible.

Recalling that Cooper had requested I touch myself after stripping, I lifted one boob with my left hand and licked its nipple. Meanwhile, my right hand descended low, inserting a finger into my vagina. I wasn’t especially wet, but that gradually changed as a natural consequence of the physical stimulation.

Cooper looked pleased and resumed his own masturbation. “Lay on the floor, Catherine. Spread your legs to give me a clear view, but keep playing with yourself.”

I did as he said. Cooper stood and approached. He loomed over me, his penis throbbing, eyes fixated on my fully exposed tits and pussy. We stayed like that for about thirty seconds, each of us masturbating before the other.

The sounds of our fluids—mostly Cooper’s—were the only thing to fill the silence. His penis was slick with precum. I could tell he was close, but his hand was slowing down. At this rate, things would stall.

I knew what Cooper needed.

“Oh, Anthony…” I moaned to him in a higher pitch than my normal speaking voice, still fingering myself and rubbing my tit. “I’m so wet… I’m your slutty little admiral, Anthony… Cum all over me, please!”

I made the words sound as heartfelt as I could, and the color of genuine arousal in my voice made the act all the more convincing.

Just as planned, Cooper came. I smirked triumphantly as strands of his semen landed all across my naked body.

There was a look of mild disbelief on Cooper’s face. I’m sure he’d been hoping to drag this out for another ten or twenty minutes, but I’d foiled his scheme with my words alone. I’d turned him on too much, and he couldn’t resist climaxing.

“You would do well not to underestimate me in the future,” I cautioned, unable to resist a small gloat. “Don’t forget who I am, and who you are.” As I spoke, I stood back up and started cleaning my body of his semen.

Cooper coughed a little before acknowledging. “You’re right, Admiral. My apologies. I’ll keep that in mind for future sessions.” Oddly, he didn’t sound all that disappointed…

“Actually, ma’am—” Cooper continued, regaining my attention. “There was something else I wanted to talk with you about, before you left for the night.”

His tone was suddenly professional, which had me curious enough to bite. “Continue.”

“Putting our personal differences aside, wouldn’t you say that implementing sexual processing has been a good thing for the engineering cohort? Productivity is up across the board.”

He… wasn’t wrong. Our engineers had recently reported a 23% increase in efficiency, and their morale was higher than it had been in months. That was nothing to scoff at—and the only significant variable had been the commencement of sexual processing. “Your point?”

“Well…” He seemed to be considering the best way to phrase this. “It may not be my place to suggest it, but have you considered approving wider scale sexual processing aboard the Athens?”

* * *


I closed my eyes, focusing on the physicality of the penis in my mouth. I was confident that my technique had improved substantially since I first fellated Corporal Vonce, but settling for “good enough” was unacceptable. The “Scarlet Hunter” label was a heavy burden to bear. While it was technically an unofficial nickname, the title’s reputation now demanded the best. Anything less would sully the name of both myself and the Unified Nations.

I explored the penis with my lips and tongue, closely noting its irregularities and erogenous zones. I had come to learn that every man was unique. While they each broadly enjoyed oral sex, the specifics were surprisingly varied. Some preferred slow, sensual movements; some preferred targeted stimulation of their glans or testicles; some prefered eye contact; some preferred taking control, others preferred relinquishing it. There was no global approach to properly satisfy all men. Effective fellatio required keen observation, testing different approaches and committing to those which were most successful.

I opened my eyes again, looking up at the man’s face to gauge his reactions. He was Private John Mitchell, a relatively new recruit. However, he must be exceptional in some way if he was serving aboard the Athens. Currently, his features were contorted in an expression of utmost pleasure, his head vaguely tilted upward.

Our surroundings were not the training room, nor the running track. Unusually, we were in the hangar, although we were not alone. In my peripheral vision, I could make out countless personnel engaged in various tasks: some calibrating armor stations, some assembling weaponry, and some (like myself) engaged in semen extraction.

The Athens was preparing to launch a brief offensive to aid allies on one of the moons of Yitar. As live combat would obviously require significant physical activity, all female soldiers were acting to ingest semen before deployment. I had been concerned that this would impose upon our male comrades, already going through their own pre-mission prep, but there had thankfully been ample volunteers.

A figure approached Mitchell and I from the side. It was Corporal Vonce. He and I had grown more familiar since he first donated his semen. He’d even been magnanimous enough to donate to me personally four more times.

“Major.” I nodded slightly at his approach. “I was hoping that I could donate my own semen, in addition to Private Mitchell.”

Realizing this would be an actual conversation, I motioned to Mitchell that I would have to pause momentarily. Sliding the penis out of my throat, I turned to face Vonce. “I have no objection, Corporal. However, I have only the one mouth. Is it acceptable to wait until Mitchell is finished?”

Vonce seemed to anticipate this response. “Actually, I had another idea. Can’t I use the hole down there?”, he asked, indicating my genitals with his hand.

“My… vagina, Corporal?” I was taken aback. Vonce was propositioning me for sex?

“I’d wear a condom, ma’am, and you could drink from it afterward.” To accentuate the point, he held up a wrapped condom. “Wouldn’t that be more efficient than having to wait for your mouth?”

I was conflicted. Following that logic, Vonce could simply masturabate into the condom and achieve the same effect. However… it was important to keep in mind that the man is already providing a crucial service by offering his semen. In exchange, it is the woman’s duty to make the process as easy as possible for him. If oral sex was not an option, was it not my responsibility to present a reasonable alternative?

Arriving at a decision, I gave Vonce my answer. “I see. In truth, I had not considered that as an option. However…” I repositioned myself, pointing my lower half in the opposite direction of Private Mitchell, before unzipping the crotch of my jumpsuit. “... I believe it is a sound argument. You may insert yourself as your leisure, Corporal.”

“T-thank you, ma’am!” After an unnecessary salute, Vonce scrambled to unzip his own jumpsuit and open the condom. A moment later, he was behind me.

I was not a virgin but, as with fellatio, I was inexperienced. Feeling his penis brush up against my vagina, I felt uncharacteristically… trepidatious.

“Vonce—ah…” I’m not entirely sure what I was about to say; perhaps I was going to suggest that we reconsider. Regardless, I was interrupted by Corporal Vonce entering inside me. Rather abruptly, I was having sex for the first time in years.

Deciding there was nothing for it, I changed tack and started to move my hips. Vonce moaned somewhat loudly, but no one looked in our direction. In fact, I now noticed at least two other women in the hangar similarly engaged in intercourse. This realization eased my mind. As long as others are following suit, there is no reason for concern.

With renewed purpose and Vonce still deep in my vagina, I once again sucked upon Mitchell’s penis. It was a uniquely challenging experience, having never entertained two men simultaneously. If I focused on the movements of my mouth, my lower body would become stagnant, and likewise for the reverse. When it came to semen extraction, I suddenly felt as if my skills were back at square one.

Even so, both men achieved orgasm almost immediately. I readily swallowed Mitchell’s ejaculate as it pumped down my throat. Originally, the sensation had been mildly uncomfortable, due to my inability to regulate the speed and volume of semen, but I had grown accustomed to it over time.

Next, Vonce pulled out and carefully handed me his used condom. As I leaned my head back to drink from it, I spotted Admiral Locke surveying the area from a corner of the hangar. We shared a glance as I drank from the condom. I could see her eyes taking in the three of us—then she continued about her work, having determined everything was in order.

I respected my sister immensely; she was the epitome of an authoritative, intellectual leader. With her at the helm, I had no doubt that the Athens would always carve a path to victory.

The condom was now empty. After one final moment to savor the taste of Vonce’s semen, I thanked the two men for their assistance and stepped toward the nearest armor station. As my suit constructed around me, with more semen in my gut than ever before, I felt at peace.