Provisional Crew

"Mmh…"

Seria was the first to open her eyes atop the plush mattress. Gazing blankly at the ceiling of the spacious private quarters assigned to her, she pushed herself upright with slow, deliberate care. Every ounce of exhaustion that had plagued her seemed thoroughly washed away, her battered frame from yesterday feeling almost miraculously light.

I feel… completely refreshed.

Yet, as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, a sudden gasp caught in her throat.

"Ah…!"

The split second the silk sheet grazed her bare skin, an electric tremor shot straight up her spine. Her pupils dilated in shock. Her nipples were painfully, acutely erect—hypersensitive to the slightest draft. That wasn't all. A persistent, throbbing ache simmered deep in her lower abdomen, while the insides of her thighs were slick and disgracefully soaked.

"Haah, haah… What in the world is happening to me…?"

Her memories of the previous night remained shrouded in an impenetrable fog. Brushing a trembling hand over her burning cheeks, she forced herself to dismiss the shameless sensations as nothing more than strange side effects of cutting-edge capsule therapy.

At roughly the same time, in their respective rooms, Lili and Kaila were also crossing their legs in confusion, blushing crimson at the inexplicable heat pooling between their thighs.

Shortly thereafter, the three gathered in the Dien Fleet's main dining hall.

"Is the food to your liking?"

"Ah… yes! It's absolutely delicious, Commander!"

The spread before them was nothing short of a banquet, fit for a three-star restaurant. Once they had eaten their fill, Seria set down her fork and spoke up hesitantly.

"Commander… I know this is an entirely shameless request, but… could you return us to the Neo Terra Alliance?"

"The Neo Terra Alliance?" Geon asked.

"Yes. Even if my father is gone, my comrades and I still have families waiting back home. I have dear friends there, too." Seria's voice trembled with earnest longing. "We belong to Neo Terra. We believe returning home is the right thing to do."

Geon set down his coffee cup and offered a gentle, reassuring smile.

"Of course you must return. If it is urgent, I could spin up the warp drive and take you back this instant."

"Ah…!"

"However, all three of you have endured a terrible trauma. While the medical capsules have restored your bodies, the wounds on your hearts have hardly begun to heal. What do you say to resting comfortably aboard our ship for a short while to gather your strength before departing?"

It was a proposal overflowing with pure warmth and consideration. Deeply moved, the three women looked at him with glistening eyes. As much as they missed home, the shock of losing their commander and watching their entire unit wiped out was still a raw, bleeding wound. Rushing back in such an emotional wreck might only break them further. A little time to breathe was a godsend.

"If you are willing to extend such kindness… we would gladly take your advice and steady ourselves first." Resolute, Seria stood up from her chair. "In return, please allow us to serve as crew aboard the Dien Fleet!"

"As crew?"

"Yes! You saved our lives, and now you offer us shelter. We cannot sit idly by as freeloaders while you accommodate us! Please let us assist with the ship's work!"

Beside her, Lili and Kaila rose and nodded vigorously in agreement.

On the outside, Geon scratched his jaw as if caught in a dilemma, but inwardly he was grinning ear to ear.

"Well, if you insist… very well. Dark, grant these three provisional crew privileges. Issue them their service uniforms as well."

"Orders received, Commander."

A few moments later, when the trio emerged from the dressing quarters, the sight was nothing short of breathtaking.

"I-Is this truly the official uniform…?"

The attire Geon provided was not overtly revealing. In fact, it was a crisp, military-style tunic buttoned all the way up to the collar. The real issue lay in its cut and fabric. The material was impossibly sleek and elastic, clinging to their bodies like a second skin. It cinched their narrow waists, molded tightly over their voluptuous breasts, and framed the generous curves of their hips without leaving anything to the imagination. To make matters worse, the pencil skirts ended at a perilously high cut along their upper thighs.

"Ah…!"

With the slightest shift in posture, the stiff synthetic weave rubbed relentlessly against their hyper-sensitized nipples. Keeping their thighs clamped tightly together, the three women let slip stifled whimpers.

"It suits you splendidly," Geon said, seemingly oblivious to their distress. "Now, allow me to assign your duties."

Gulping down nervous swallows, they focused intently on his lips.

"Your first duty and paramount rule as crew of the Dien Fleet: every morning upon waking, you must immediately report to the capsule room for a routine diagnostic checkup to ensure your physical stability."

"In the medical capsules?" Seria asked, blinking.

"Correct. Maintaining flawless health is the primary obligation of every crew member."

Moved by his attentive, seemingly protective leadership, the three women saluted crisply.

"Understood, Commander!"

"Excellent. Once your examination concludes, Seria will report to the bridge to oversee auxiliary monitoring and external communications. Lili and Kaila, I task you with organizing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the hangar bay and managing the schedule logs."

Before heading to their posts, the three women promptly made their way back to the capsule room.

"Haah… to think we have to strip right after putting these on," Seria muttered, her cheeks flushed as she fumbled with the buttons of her stiff tunic.

"Tell me about it. It hugs so tightly that peeling it off feels like an ordeal on its own…"

"Ugh, the air in here feels strangely chilly."

Kaila squirmed as she peeled down the restrictive skirt, while Lili shivered, hugging herself against the cool breeze touching her bare flesh. Stripped free of the constrictive uniforms, the three women stood completely, gloriously naked. Hurrying to escape the cold, they climbed into their respective capsules and lay back.

Transparent visors descended smoothly over their eyes, followed by non-rebreather masks sealing firmly over their noses and mouths.

Pshhhhh—

As a specialized sedative mist flooded the enclosures, their consciousness dissolved into deep, hypnotic slumber.

The synthesized chime faded into the quiet chamber. After a short period, the gas receded, and the three women blinked awake in a daze.

Hiss—

The lids retracted, revealing Dark's hovering holographic eagle in the center of the room.

"Examination complete. All three subjects have likely noted a gradual heighten in nipple sensitivity since boarding this vessel."

"Ngh…! H-How did you…?"

Struck dead-center on her most embarrassing secret, Seria's face turned beet-red.

"I-It's true! Every time my uniform brushed against them, I jumped out of my skin… I thought it was just me!"

"Mine have felt so itchy and hot, too…"

Lili clamped her hands over her chest in shock, while Kaila hung her head, squeaking in quiet agreement. Dark continued in an unflinching, clinical drone.

"The Dien Fleet's internal environment and technological superstructure operate on an entirely different dimensional baseline compared to conventional space. Due to micro-variations in our localized gravitational field and synthetic atmospheric ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠composition, external personnel may suffer a specific side effect… namely, severe, progressive hypersensitivity in sensitive bodily zones—most prominently, the breasts."

"A-A side effect…?"

Hearing that they weren't turning into degenerate perverts and that their condition was merely an environmental symptom brought an immense wave of collective relief. At that moment, three small, translucent tubes of ointment dispensed from a tray beside the capsules.

"This is a temporary therapeutic balm. Following each morning checkup, you are advised to massage it directly onto your nipples."

"W-We have to apply this every day?"

"We have to rub it on our own chests ourselves…? Ah, that's so embarrassing…"

Kaila clutched the tube, fidgeting awkwardly. Suddenly, Seria's eyes widened with dread.

"W-Wait, Dark… does the Commander know about this?"

"I am scheduled to submit a full report to the Commander shortly."

"No! Please, keep this a secret from him, just for now!"

The mere thought of their esteemed rescuer learning that their breasts were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠behaving so filthily was mortifying beyond words. Lili and Kaila immediately joined the frantic plea.

"She's right! It would be too humiliating if the Commander found out! Please, Dark, we're begging you!"

"We don't want him to think we're incompetent crew members! Please keep it between us…!"

Faced with their desperate petitions, Dark paused for a brief calculation before responding.

"Affirmative. Given that the symptom poses no immediate threat to vital functions, I will suspend reporting for the time being."

"Thank you, Dark! Phew…"

"What a relief… So, if we apply this ointment, will it cure us quickly?"

At Lili's hopeful inquiry, the red optical sensor on Dark's chassis flickered.

"Due to your advanced stage of sensitivity, the balm serves only as a temporary countermeasure. However, you will soon adapt to this vessel's unique environment, at which point the discomfort will subside. You need not worry."

Utterly oblivious to what 'adapting' truly entailed, the three naive women sighed in relief and twisted open the caps of their ointments.

Thirty minutes later, on the Dien Fleet's main bridge.

Chhhk—

The pneumatic hatch parted, and Seria walked in with an unusually rigid gait. Once the proud ace pilot of the Neo Terra Alliance, she now squeezed her inner thighs together with every step, gingerly taking her seat at the auxiliary control terminal before calling up the holographic interface.

"Right. Radar arrays nominal, intercepting comm channels of the three major factions… Ahhn!"

Her spine snapped backward like a taut bow.

Beneath the suffocating fabric of her uniform, the ointment she had slathered on was melting under her rising body heat, coating her taut nipples in an intensely stimulating, viscous film. Every shallow intake of breath brought unbearable friction between her bra and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tunic, sending bolts of pure static crashing into her cerebral cortex.

"Hah… haah… No, stay focused. This is the first duty assigned by the Commander…"

She crossed her legs forcefully to suppress the trembling, but the gesture only concentrated the heavy, throbbing ache settling between her thighs. Her panties were already dampening beneath her pencil skirt.

I'm losing my mind… Can someone really get used to this kind of environment…?

Unable to process a single string of telemetry, Seria finally reached out and pressed the call icon for Dark on the corner of the console.

"You summoned me, Lady Seria."

"Hah… Dark, listen…" Biting her lower lip, Seria pressed an arm over her burning chest. "My nipples are so itchy and sensitive that I can barely think… Is there any way to alleviate this feeling right now? I can't concentrate on my duties at all…"

"The Commander is currently occupied with private administrative duties and will remain inside his personal quarters for the remainder of the day. Barring a critical emergency, he will not visit the bridge."

Dark subtly established the safety of the perimeter while answering around the question, before delivering an outrageous proposal in the flattest mechanical tone imaginable.

"Your current affliction is non-fatal. If the discomfort and localized pruritus become unmanageable, it is recommended that you disrobe your uniform tunic and brassiere, then manually scratch your nipples to dispel the localized neural irritation."

"Wh-What…?! S-Strip off my tunic and bra?! How could I possibly do that?! That's insane! It's so disgraceful!"

Seria waved her hands in frantic denial, her face flushing crimson. Even if she was completely alone on the bridge, peeling off her clothes while on active duty was completely beyond the pale.

"I-I'll just endure it, so forget it…!"

"I merely presented the most statistically efficient countermeasure for your convenience. Do you require further assistance?"

Panting softly, Seria tried desperately to pivot the subject.

"Th-The operating architecture here is vastly different from Neo Terra's vessels… Could you walk me through the detailed protocols for auxiliary surveillance and comm intercept routing?"

With a series of soft pings, countless holographic displays populated the air around her as Dark began his technical walkthrough. Yet, the longer the synthetic drone continued, the faster Seria's rational faculties eroded. Today's sensitivity was leagues beyond yesterday's. It felt as though tiny electric insects were crawling incessantly over the tips of her breasts. Before she even realized what she was doing, her trembling right hand slipped past the lapel of her collar, fingertips desperately digging into her neckline to claw at the itching mounds.

"Ngh… ahn…!"

"For your reference, the Commander will not be informed of this circumstance. You may freely expose your upper torso and scratch as needed."

That single prompt severed Seria's remaining thread of restraint.

"Haah, haah… I can't… I can't take it anymore…!"

Her shivering fingers tore at the uniform buttons. The stiff jacket fell open, and as she yanked down the cups of her bra, her magnificent, heavy breasts spilled out into the cool air. The sudden chill against her engorged, cherry-red nipples sent an explosive shockwave through her nervous system.

"Aahhn…! Ah, haaaah!"

She dragged her manicured nails relentlessly across the swollen tips.

Dark made no move to look away, calmly continuing the tactical debriefing while Seria writhed half-naked in the control chair.

"Next, please inspect the secondary utility toggle at the lower edge of the auxiliary console. Engaging this control will deploy the integrated amenities."

Still scratching frantically with one hand, Seria reached out with her other to tap the indicated switch. A side drawer slid open beside her seat, revealing neatly organized packs of wet wipes, absorbent tissues, and a sanitary disposal bin.

"Haah, haah…? Why would… why are things like this stored on the bridge console…?"

"They were pre-positioned under the projection that you would inevitably require them, Lady Seria."

"What…? What does that even—aahn! Ah, haaaangh!"

Dark's clinical explanations ceased to register entirely. What had begun as an innocent effort to relieve an intolerable itch had swiftly degraded into shameless, lewd self-pleasuring. Her fingers pinched, kneaded, and rolled the stiff, weeping peaks with relentless fervor.

"Ah! Nnngh! Right there… ngh! It's too much… so good, it's driving me crazy…!"

As she clawed and fondled her exposed flesh, tidal waves of pleasure tore through her core, violently wringing out her lower abdomen. Thick, boiling nectar gushed uncontrollably from her drenched folds, running down her pale inner thighs in sticky rivulets.

"Aaaaaah-! I'm—I'm coming, I'm cummiiing—!"

Seria arched her spine off the seat and screamed into the empty bridge. Her entire body convulsed in the throes of a shattering climax, her chest heaving as she slumped limp against the headrest, gasping for air. Only after a long stretch of shuddering breaths did she open her eyes. Miraculously, the maddening, electric torment in her nipples had vanished, replaced by a gentle, soothing numbness.

"Haah… haah… I… I survived…"

As her mind cleared, cold horror washed over her. Looking down at the control chair, her jaw dropped in absolute mortification. The plush synthetic cushion was thoroughly soaked and discolored by an enormous puddle of her own spilled fluids.

"Ah… oh no, no, no!"

Only now did the true purpose of the tissues and waste bin dawn upon her. With tears of burning shame stinging her eyes, she frantically tore out fistfuls of wipes, scrubbing the seat dry and disposing of the soiled evidence into the bin.

Once the station was spotless, Seria haphazardly pulled her bra over her chest, hastily buttoned her uniform to the collar, and addressed the eagle AI in a faint, trembling squeak.

"D-Dark… what just happened… please, please promise me you won't tell the Commander… I beg of you…"

"Do not be concerned, Lady Seria. Standard protocols classify a crew member's personal physiological excretions and emergency self-treatment as private medical data; they are not submitted in routine logs to the Commander."

Hearing Dark's impeccably detached assurance, Seria let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, gently rubbing her still-throbbing chest with lingering awe.