Damn It, Commander! This Drug! (3)
"Rape would only earn you his hatred, so of course you'd hold back — you don't want the Commander to despise you."
"Th-that's…"
"But what if, through my drug, the Commander loses control of his lust and is the one who jumps you?"
"…!"
"Just picture it. You, the Pirate Empress who rules over everything… thoroughly ravaged by our Commander."
"…Mmm."
"And if he can unleash that lust without being crushed by your physical power — if he can hold you through it all… well?"
"Th-that would be… of course. Of course it would."
The moment Griyanaar floated the strategy that taking Marianne herself would be a crime, but being taken by the Commander would stoke his own sense of guilt and naturally lead all the way to marriage, Marianne's mind went into overdrive. In an instant she was assembling invincible fleets out of their future children, drafting family plans in which their grandchildren conquered the galaxy while she and Icarus enjoyed a cozy retirement at the base resort.
Every last shred of her earlier resistance vanished. She flipped into an enthusiastic co-conspirator, thoroughly corrupted by the scheme.
And so, with a little internal conspiracy to grease the wheels, Griyanaar's throbbing Icarus Arousal Project took another step toward success.
Nuhuhuhu… With this, the Commander's gene-extraction plan is finally going to work.
Naturally the first batch of genes would settle in Marianne's belly — but after that, the means of extraction were endless. Griyanaar felt a smile bloom across her face of its own accord, her heart thoroughly delighted.
And in the middle of that glow, a scrap of their earlier conversation drifted back through her mind.
"Hmm… By the way, one thing I'm curious about."
"Yeah? What?"
"Why crank the sensitivity all the way up to three thousand times? If something goes wrong, couldn't the Commander die of shock…?"
"Don't worry about it. Commander-class bodies have extremely high drug resistance."
"Hmm?"
"Last time I tried a two-thousand-times aphrodisiac on him and got zero reaction."
"…Ah."
……It'll work this time, right?
Griyanaar trusted her own brilliant intellect — and still found herself wondering what she'd do if three thousand times didn't take.
While I was busy calming the lower-body uprising that had surged the instant I registered the shocking fact that Marianne was packing serious hardware—
"Commander? No matter how pretty Marianne is, staring at nothing but her is a little much, don't you think?"
"Mm…"
"Look — everyone else is back in their outfits now."
"Commander! We're here!"
"Ugh, this is… mm."
"Everyone looks wonderful on you. Truly excellent."
I watched our superhumans file in with commanding presence, Jessica at the head of the line — every design a little different, but all of them united by one common theme: reverse bunny girl outfits.
Damn. Those figures.
And for reasons I couldn't begin to guess, the roster had swapped one person on the return trip.
"Huh? You're…"
"It's been a while! Lepahn, commander of the Rhodes Mercenary Group!"
I hadn't mentioned it, but when I'd called for Belial and Tiamat, Partia had been walking past and should have gone with them. So why was Partia nowhere to be seen, and why was the very green Lepahn standing here in a reverse bunny outfit?
Maybe it was the pirate-turned-mercenary in her, but unlike Marianne — who was covering herself with her arms because the stickers couldn't handle the sheer volume — Lepahn stood there radiating pure presence even with her areolae peeking past the stickers that failed to cover them. That shameless display of hers actually had a positive side effect: Marianne, pride apparently pricked, dropped the arms she'd been using as a shield.
Still, separate from all that, I couldn't help wondering where Partia had gone. When I voiced the question, Jessica answered.
"She gave her spot to Lepahn, who joined midway, and said she'd put one on as soon as a new outfit arrives."
"Is that so."
A saintly heart indeed. I nodded in agreement, then settled in to feast my eyes on Jessica and the rest of the superhumans in their reverse bunny gear, same as Marianne.
Damn.
Normally most of them didn't dress like Ignis or Pashtura, so getting a clear read on their figures was hard. But reverse bunny outfits, by design, put everything from collarbone and underarm straight down to the hips on full display…
Waaah, baby Commander here, my eyes hurt so good.
Determined to preserve this beautiful moment for eternity, I switched on the recording function linked to the user viewpoint and started taking several screenshots per superhuman — then herded them into group poses. Once I had a solid collection of delightful proof shots and pictured uploading them to the gallery…
Renaissance…!
The thought that an untimely golden age of lewd images — or homemade skins — was about to dawn filled me with a thoroughly wicked glow of satisfaction.
And so, while I was hard at work documenting every last erotic detail in photo and video—
"Ooooooh?!"
"Wait, those ladies are wearing outfits like that?!"
"Ah, right."
The shaggy pirate Liran and his officer cadre came back from the bathroom into the VIP lounge, and it hit me: this gathering hadn't been arranged as a reverse-bunny-girl strip appreciation show. It was a farewell party for the Pirate Coalition defense fleet — Liran and company included.
Even with Pashtura mid-performance of an astonishing specialty act called "Diagonal Mochi♡" alongside Commander Lepahn, I decided to pull free of the erotic atmosphere and get back to celebrating the real guests of honor.
And right as that thought landed—
"Commander, how about a toast for those fellows soon?"
"You're right, Griyanaar."
Griyanaar, also in reverse bunny gear, prodded me toward a toast. It made perfect sense, so I reached for the drink sitting on the table behind me, ready to raise a light cheers.
"All right, everyone grab a glass and— mm."
But in that exact moment, a thought cut through my head.
Hold on. If the guy leading the toast is the only one holding a soft drink while everyone else has booze… isn't that kind of lame?
Everyone raising alcohol while I alone held a glass of pink otherworldly strawberry beverage just felt wrong. Of course, the second I said that out loud—
"Come on, Commander, who cares if it's a drink or booze for a toast?"
"R-right, I don't mind at all? Oppa."
Griyanaar, who'd suggested the toast in the first place, and Marianne, the party most concerned, both waved me off with a strangely urgent insistence that I really didn't need to bother.
"Nah. This is better."
"Well, he's not wrong."
"The Commander's got a bee in his bonnet, so just let him."
As Jessica put it, I was locked in. I set down the soft-drink glass and reached for a proper glass of liquor.
But right then, Admiral Liran — drunk enough that he'd needed a bathroom run — spoke up.
"Hahahaha! Commander Icarus? As it happens, the glass I'm holding right now is a brand-new pour in a brand-new glass. Why don't you use this one?"
"Ah, would that be all right?"
"Of course, of course! And since you haven't even touched that soft drink, I'll take it off your hands — cut back a little myself."
"Mm."
Maybe the event had stacked our favorability high enough that he was going for something like a loyalty oath. Either way, I figured a clean swap right here beat the disruption of going to fetch a fresh pour. I nodded, traded glasses without a second thought, and delivered a proper toast.
"To the Pirate Coalition fleet that worked so hard defending our base, and to Empress Marianne for sending them — cheers!"
"Cheers!"
"Ch-cheers…"
"Cheeeeers!"
And while Icarus, the superhumans, and the pirate officers at the farewell party raised their glasses, Marianne and Griyanaar — glasses lifted with the rest — were locked in a furious exchange of eye contact.
"Isn't what Liran's drinking the spiked one?"
"…Yeah?"
"What do we do?"
"Idk."
The plan they had so carefully laid had been completely derailed by nothing more than a tiny whim of Icarus's. The eye-beam conversation was pure damage control — but no matter how hard Marianne glared laser beams across the room, even Griyanaar had her limits in a situation like this.