Supernova Ch. 01: Subject C

The tiny moon in distant orbit around Orix 5 didn't even have a name. Unofficially, it was known as Shithole 9. As planet-orbiting rocks go, it was a dime a dozen. Barren, dry and void of life, but full of He-3, U-239 and other materials the Empire considered bread and butter.

It was weekday 4, month 9, year 2314. Or, as 37-year-old Stan Irutian liked to think of it, D-1095. It marked the beginning of his fourth year here, serving time for a minor bar incident back on Aldrin base. With six years to go, there would be no celebration today. Only a quiet sigh in his bunk before the morning shift started.

If Stan would have ever been allowed access to the historical annals of mankind, he might have considered himself lucky. Space mining in the 24th century was, relatively speaking, safe and easy work. It wasn't particularily deadly, and only consisted of supervising the mining robots. Nevertheless, it was mandatory, unpaid work. Slavery. For the bloody Empire. And it was boring. Fucking boring.

-

One point four light-seconds above Orix 5-9, the Quantum Yacht "Queen Seleza" appeared out of nowhere.

"Fueling station in view, Captain," a female voice informed.

"On main," another woman replied, and almost instantly, an enhanced view of the boring, natural satellite was displayed on the huge screen.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Captain Joamo muttered to no one in particular, before ordering her subordinates to commence with the landing procedures.

A few minutes later, the tall, pretty brunette was standing outside the large cabin of the ship's de facto commander-in-chief. Even with all her experience, Joamo was nervous every time she knocked on this door.

"Your Highness," she spoke into the incom, "we have arrived at our last checkpoint before Tasim-4".

There was no reply.

"Your Highness?"

Silence.

Serrah Joamo, 29, was in doubt. As War Commander, she had once led a group of battle-hardened, war-tired raid cruisers to an inexplicable victory against an entire Yzikian Battle group. A devastating crush which eventually led to the total collapse of the enemy's upper western flank. Yet as Captain for the private yacht of Princess Yulia, 14th in line for the Galactic Crown, she was terrified of fucking up.

She sighed and pushed the override switch to enter the cabin.

The main room was as big as the galley of the ship, which held the entire crew of 40 women. It was deserted. Captain Joamo searched the adjoining rooms. While most of the ship was sparsely decorated, the Princess' quarters were lavishly sprinkled with luxury. New Earth wine and champagne, conserved with nanotechnology, was lined up on a shelf in one room. Something they called choqulatee in another. The stuff was supposedly "like an orgasm in the mouth". The Captain had experienced many orgasms in the mouth, which she enjoyed to some degree, and thus misunderstood the reference.

In the next rooms, there were silky clothes of all sorts of colors and styles, pillows and soft cushions sprinkled on beds, and gemstones of every kind for the Princess to wear.

In the final room, there was a Princess. There was also one of the young conscripts under the Captain's command. Both females were stark naked, and the Princess was writhing underneath the conscript's tongue. Despite herself, the Captain soon felt her own lady parts moistening as she took in the view. The Princess was spoiled beyond description, and acted in such a way, but there was no doubt that she was gorgeous. Sculpted by the most advanced gene technology before birth, and improved by the most expensive nanotechnology throughout her teens, the 18-year-old girl was a beauty truly unmatched by nature.

Nature had given her best shot, and almost succeeded: The young conscript, similarily aged as the princess, had been blessed by fire-red hair, wide hips and a full ass. The rest of her was obscured from view as she lay on the mattress in between the thighs of Princess Yulia.

Human words could not fairly describe the beauty of the Princess, but the Captain was a sucker for those large, firm tits. Almost impossibly in denial of the ArtGrav aboard the ship, they stood out from her chest as she lay inclined on pillows. Sculpted to perfection, with large nipples the Captain had an urge to suck, they were designed to arouse even the most powerful man in the galaxy.

Her wide-flowing hips and fit belly were adhering to the ideal ratio, known to mankind since the beginning of history, and her thighs were naturally strong and muscular. The Captain could not help but notice that not a single hair grew on her body below the neck, except a delicately designed patch slightly above the spot where the red-haired Private licked tenderly.

After a few moments (or was it minutes, she couldn't say), Cpt Joamo decided to cough gently.

There was no reaction. The Princess kept wriggling under the redhead's treatment, her beautiful face in the most enjoyable agony. Symmetrical beyond the natural, she was flawless. Her thick, red lips formed an O as she moaned higher and higher, and her skin over her high cheekbones began to get a reddish glow.

The Captain could not help but notice how the conscript had reached back to her own juicy slit, probing it with her longest finger. It was hot. Off-duty and invited, Serrah Joamo would have joined the pair without a doubt. But as Captain, she had promised herself to abstain from such activity. It would only lead to trouble.

She wanted to cough again, but realized that she had to wait it out, as the moans grew in intensity. Suddenly, the Princess' deep blue eyes opened wide, and she screamed as she grabbed the head of the private.

"Ooooooh!" she moaned. "Fuuuuck!" she screamed, as she came hard.

The Captain watched from the side as the Princess pulled the redhead up to her for a deep kiss. Her own pussy ached, and she knew she would probably have to do something about it in her own quarters later. She cleared her throat.

"Your Highness, I am very sorry for disturbing you in your quarters, but we have reached the mining station we discussed."

This time, the naked beauty reacted.

"Leave," she told the redhead conscript, who quickly gathered her clothes and disappeared.

"This will be the last stop before the wormhole that will take us to your wedding on Tasim-4." Captain Joamo informed. The Princess took a sip of Champagne.

"Good. Find me a man."

-

On Shithole-9, the sound of the general alarm pierced through the loud 20th century music. This was nothing new. "Management", as the miners liked to call them, enjoyed being a pain in the ass, and drilled them frequently. Stan programmed his robots to continue in automatic safe-mode, and returned to the Main Station. No supervising meant lower yield, which would give him shorter breaks and smaller rations next week. He was already skinny enough as it was.

The guys lined up in groups of ten, and Major Jim Wothez went over the lists. Luckily, everyone was present this time, unlike last time, when a jerk from Bay 5 had been caught sleeping behind a harvester, causing Jimbo to freak out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stan thought he saw something spark in the skies above the hall. Probably a micro-meteorite, he gathered. No decent space-ship would come out here to the backwaters voluntarily.

"OK, shitheads," Jimbo yelled, "management has decided it's time for another strip-search."

Everyone booed. One fucking time a guy puts a chunk of Uranium up his ass, and since then, mandatory strip-searches. Considering the fact that this stupid-ass thief died two days later by radiation poisoning, it felt kinda unnecessary.

"And here's the list of lucky participants," Jimbo said, and begun to read names.

Soon enough, Stan heard his own, just as always. He was sure someone up there hated him.

-

"Captain, we have scanned the genetic database of the 5,000 inmates," Lieutenant Jaymes said, "and this is the list of potential candidates. Short as expected."

The strawberry blonde uploaded a list of twenty men to her Captain. Each had a small bio next to a recent picture, but more importantly, their estimated characteristics and potential according to their DNA sample. Serrah Joamo nodded. These looked like good candidates.

"But of course, it's a game of chance," the Lieutenant added.

"Very well, Lieutenant," she said. She could always depend on her second in command. "Have them sent on board for further filtering."

She knew they had to do their job well. If she disappointed the Princess, she would never captain a ship again.

-

This was very unusual, Stan thought, as he was lined up naked next to the other inmates. The strong light forced him to look straight ahead into the wall.

"Next!" a robotic voice said.

It echoed through the large room. The man in front of him entered the adjoining room through a double door. No other voices or sounds were heard.

Stan considered his situation. He hadn't been on a space ship since he came to this moon, and it had been a cargo freight compared to this. These walls were brightly coloured, the gravity was very stable, and the air was comparable to the best places on Mars.

"Next!"

Stan looked at the other men and shrugged. Naked as the day he was born, he walked forward through the doors. He emerged in a rectangular room with two gray walls and a big mirror.

"Please stand in the yellow square," the voice commanded.

Stan took a step to the side and faced the mirror. Nothing happened for a while, but suddenly an electroprobe was inserted into his arm. He looked around.

"Please face the viewing screen!" the voice said immediately, and a flat image projector descended from the ceiling. It was porn. At first, it was men and women, which aroused him highly, and he felt his dick grow to an almost instant erection.

Soon the images changed. Those of several men and women together, he also enjoyed, as well as those with women playing with eachother, but soon the videos changed again, and started to repulse him. His erection disappeared.

Eventually the probe retracted and the screen disappeared. He sighed.

"Please leave through the door on your left," the voice said.

Stan shrugged. What the hell was management up to?

-

"Captain, we are ready to start the procedures on the three candidates," Lt Jaymes informed. "The nanosurgeons will insert the epigenetic hormones specifically designed for each male, and the nanofabs are fully loaded with the chemical payloads."

"Good, Meea, let's hope their DNA is up to the task" Captain Joamo said in an unexpected colloquial tone. The two women shared a smile. They couldn't help thinking about what they were about to do.

"Go ahead."

The three specimens were lying on separate tables, each one inside a personal MedPod to contain and kill the nanobots after the surgery.

"A and B are surprisingly good candiates for a dump like this, Serrah," the Lieutenant replied, and the two chuckled.

"And a dump it is," she confirmed.

"C is somewhat of a long shot, if you ask me, but the computer insists we should try for some reason. Could be a bug, but..."

Captain Joamo knew the princess demanded something extraordinary, and it was their last chance before the wedding. This was the only mining outpost within range of Tasim-4 that had the crucial minerals required. But they only had enough for three specimens. Hence the tests and sorting.

The two women observed passively as the procedure started. Nothing could be seen macroscopically in this phase, but on their screen, they saw the tiny bots entering the three bodies. Shortly thereafter, the man in the central pod spasmed and tensed up. "B's nervous system is rapidly collapsing, Captain," Lt Jaymes said. "Terminating."

The man fell limply onto the mattress, his life signs flatlining. The two women sighed.

A few minutes passed before both specimen A and C's bodies started to show visual effects of the treatment. A had been more muscular and bulkier. C was fairly skinny. Now both of them became lean and strong. Their bodies morphed into the certain ideal shape that the two women knew the Princess would enjoy the most. When the procedure was over, their biological age would be 25, and they would stay that way for years, their internal clock almost frozen.

"Stage 1 complete," Lt Jaymes stated. "Now for the critical part."

Even in 2314, this was still a gamble. Though it had been researched for decades, nanomorph technology still couldn't reveal with 100% certainty who had the epigenial potential needed for a successful procedure.

The two women watched intensively. Suddenly A began to turn blue and his limbs fell off, one by one.

"Shit! Fuck!" Lt Jaymes exclaimed. "Terminating specimen A."

Captain Serrah Joamo crossed her fingers and focused on her last hope, specimen C.

-

For Stan Irutian, 37, this was an unusual morning. There was no headache from the liquor he drank to kill the boredom. Furthermore, his back didn't hurt from the bunk bed. In fact, he was pretty damn comfortable. He slowly opened his eyes.

"That's weird," he thought.

He was not in his bunk. In fact, he was fairly certain he was nowhere near Shithole-9.

He was in a bright, sparsely decorated room, lying naked on a narrow, tall bed. As his eyes adjusted to the light, two people emerged in front of him. Their body shapes looked strangely familiar... Women! He hadn't seen a woman in four years. And they were dressed in tight uniforms, clinging oh so nicely to their lovely curves... Ah, so it was one of those dreams. It all made sense now.

"He's waking up, Captain," the one on the left said.

A strawberry blonde, she was shorter than the brunette she addressed.

"Man, they are hot!" he thought, and instantly he felt blood rushing to his groin.

"Indeed," said the tall brunette, as her gaze fell on his lower half.

It was definitely that kind of dream. The Captain looker slightly more mature than her subordinate, but not by much. Probably somewhere in her mid-twenties, Stan guessed.

"Lieutenant, please provide the candidate with some stimulation. We haven't got all day."

"Certainly, Captain," the blonde said, then turned to Stan and unzipped her uniform down to her midriff. Two lovely, large tits spilled out, and she smiled.

"Hello, Stan," she said with a soft voice. "I'm Meea, and this is Serrah. Please lay back and relax. You're in safe hands."

Literally. She reached out and put her hand on his dick, while the Captain watched.

"Nngh," he groaned as she started to pump it with a tight, but comfortable grip.

It quickly grew big and hard, and Stan grinned as his dream cock appeared, substantially more impressive than it was in real life. He had always been ashamed of his meager size.

Meea spit in her hand and applied it to the shaft, making it nice and slick. This allowed her to step up her game. Stan groaned again, as the blonde started using both hands on him, twisting them in opposite directions around the shaft. It felt like heaven, and he could swear his cock got even harder.

"Mmm, that's my boy," Meea said, then turned to Serrah. "Captain, this is exceptional!"

"Indeed, Lieutenant," the tall brunette replied. She held up a small device in front of him, and a visible scanning light passed from the base to the tip. The machine beeped.

"Incredible!" Captain Serrah Joamo gasped, and showed the numbers to her second-in-command, Meea Jaymes.

"Woah, really? 9.2 inches?!" she said, and the Captain nodded.

"That's more than double his given length!" Meea added.

"Yes, but look at the girth improvement," the Captain said, and pointed to the line, "from 3.8 to 5.7 inches in circumference! It's massive. We've never seen results like this!"

Meea, the topless strawberry blonde jerking the impossibly thick shaft, could only nod. She unmistakably felt her juices dripping into her panties. She hadn't fucked a man since before the Third Aldebaran Skirmish, and her cravings grew stronger each minute.

Stan had long ago decided to just enjoy this strange, wet dream. Hell, dreaming at all was a rare occurrence in the uncomfortable bunk beds of Shithole-9. So, a vivid fantasy like this was something to cherish and hold on to. He laid back and let the young woman jerk his cock with great enthusiasm. It felt strangely real to him, but he knew it was a dream. In addition to being hung as a horse, he felt stronger and more fit than ever.

"Lieutenant, let's move on to the next step, the SVT," the brunette said.

"Starting the SVT." the blonde acknowledged.

Stan reached out and squeezed the captain's butt, and she smiled to him.

"I believe the protocol says we should both contribute to ensure the most accurate results."

"Affirmative, Captain," Meea said, and released her grip of Stan's tool. The two women took a step back, then simultaneously pulled down their zippers completely. Apart from panties, they were naked underneath. The Captain's tits were smaller than her subordinate's, but looked slightly firmer, and had more prominent areolas. Both women were gorgeous beyond expectation.

Captain Joamo walked over to the doorway, and quickly entered commands on the panel next to it. A click was heard, and Stan realized the door was now locked. The lights dimmed. Then a whirring sound started, and the bed began to widen considerably, while lowering towards the floor. How convenient! The brunette smiled reassuringly. As soon as the bed stopped, the two babes crawled onto it. The lieutenant kissed him deeply, and the feeling of their tongues playing together made his cock twitch. As soon as she retracted, the captain took over. He felt their hands grasping for his shaft at the same time, and the women giggled as their fingers met. He reached down on both girls, and they moaned in unison as his hands gently massaged their wet panties. A wicked grin formed on his face.

Serrah Joamo couldn't help herself. She was the captain of the Quantum Yacht "Queen Seleza", en route to Tasim-4 with a young daughter of the Galactic Emperor for her wedding to an important war lord. She had an important job to do, and truth be told, this was part of it. Sort of. But right now she wasn't the captain. Right now, she was Serrah. Horny Serrah. All she needed - all she craved - was this man's thick, hard meat inside her tight pussy. A pussy that hadn't been fucked in months.

The two women softly squirmed their way down to Stan's cock. Hungrily, the brunette let it slip in between her thick, soft lips.

"Oh, fuck!" Stan groaned as her wet, warm tongue rotated around the head.

From the left, the strawberry blonde started licking his heavy balls and the base of the shaft. Ah, he felt like an emperor!

Serrah bobbed rhytmically on the head for a while, having given up getting more than the first two inches into her mouth. Meea took care of the rest, she knew. This wasn't the first time the two women had cooperated on a lucky man, and it wouldn't be the last. Serrah let the fat cock slip out of her mouth, and studied it for a few seconds. It stood proudly, curving slightly upwards, almost impossibly hard. The shaft was lined with thick veins, pumping blood to the bulbous, almost purple head.

"Damn!" she blurted out, "It's so fucking big!"

She looked up at Stan, who grinned like a madman. She knew that smile all too well. They were always like this after the procedure, and all too often they were Category 1s. She really hoped this one was a Cat-7 or better. They had a princess to please.

She went back to work and Meea immediately joined her, their two tongues licking in sync all the way from the base to the head. There, they met for a wet, steamy kiss. French kissing, they used to call it back in the 21st century. They giggled and looked up at him, his eyes fixed on them in awe. But not for long. He put his hands on their heads and pushed them back onto his massive tool. Ah! Bonus point. Captain Joamo smiled and licked him even more enthusiastically.