Brash and the Schrodinger Snare Ch. 08

Her breath was hot on my face.

Her breath.

Her breath.

Breath.

Breath.

"Oh!" I exclaimed. "I'm an idiot."

Dr. Palladium looked confused.

I smiled at her, then spat a wad of spittle into her face. She clutched at her face in horror, screeching as if I had just spat her with acid. Which I totally could have - but I also wasn't a fucking monster. I just needed to get her far enough away for this trick. I breathed in, focused on the right lung in my body, then breathed out a spray of glittering pinkish fog. It swamped around Dr. Palladium's body. Her face showed a look of fury - she had realized I had just spat normal spit, rather than acid. Her face still showed that look of fury as she toppled slowly to the side, then collapsed. She was frozen stiff - paralyzed by my freezy fog, which was a holdover from the 5% of my genome that was Royal Frilled Dragon.

I grinned, then looked left. Ptooh! The glob of acid hit the wrist brace and started to hiss and bubble. I looked right. Ptooh! I strained, and after a few seconds, the braces were weak enough and I bust off the table, my head-computer playing the triumphant chords of my theme song.

BRASH!

AHHAAAAAAH!

SAVIOR OF THE UNIVERSE!

I sprinted to the door, slammed the lock button, then rushed to the chemical dispenser. I tapped up the controls, swept my finger through the options menu, and selected biochem. Then I tapped up, oh, fifty six kilograms should do it. As the dispenser started to gloop out a thick white paste, I turned back to Dr. Palladium. I picked her up, then pressed her up to the restraining table, which helpfully deployed brand new restraints. I grinned, then grabbed onto her wrist. There was her wrist computer. Which was now my wrist computer.

Dr. Palladium groaned, then shook her head. "W-What!?" She looked around. "Hey! Give that back, young man!"

"What? This?" I asked, wiggling the controller. Then I dropped it on the ground and stepped on it. I scowled when the controller refused to break. It was made of solid metal and chunky plastic that refused to bow to Mr. Boot. And I wasn't wearing a boot! But then the chem dispenser dinged and I beamed, then spraing backwards. I grabbed onto the bucket, while Dr. Palladium started to tug and twist at the bindings. But she was bound as tightly and as firmly as I was. And unlike me, she didn't have twelve different breath weapons at her disposal!

"You're alone on this ship! They'll find out what happened to me eventually," Dr. Palladium snarled.

"That's where you're wrong, Doc!" I said, then tipped the bucket over. Thick white goop slurped out and flowed into another bucket. I tossed the bucket away once it was empty, triumphantly stepping aside. "Becuase as my theme song says...I save every one of us. Stand for every one of us!"

I kicked over the bucket containing the mixture of pinkish goop - which was, roughly, twenty five percent of P90 including a chunk of her radioactive taffy power core...and now fifty six kilograms of simple, ordinary sugars. Pink liquid slurped onto the floor, but in the center of it was a humanoid mass. And as Dr. Palladium and I watched, that humanoid mass grew in tone and definition, the pink slime slurping up into them. Breasts formed, as did that perfect ass, as did the strands of her candy hair. After a shockingly short time, P90 stood, buck naked, her skin glistening and glossy and looking entirely new.

Dr. Palladium gaped.

I stepped up. P90 held her hand out, down low.

I slapped my palm into hers.

And P90 smashed her heel down on the wrist-computer.

"And that," I said, sneering at Dr. Palladium. "Is why they call me Brash the fucking Dragon."

P90 looked at me. "Who calls yo- whoa!" She yelped as I took a hold of her wrist, swung her around, then kissed her. Hard. My tongue thrust into her mouth and my hands cupped her ass, squeezing her tightly. She pressed against me - her body soft in all the right places and hard in all the other, equally right places. Her hands cupped my cheeks and her delicious, sweet tongue pressed against mine. My eyes closed and I broke the kiss, panting heavily, my voice ragged.

"P90..." I whispered. "Right now...I need to get fucking savage..."

She nodded, subtly.

"And that means I gotta be a dragon," I snarled. My hands grabbed her knees and I lifted her. It was hard. My muscles strained and my back twinged, but I took that and I fought it down, slamming it backwards as I focused on being a dragon. Dragons. Feral. Bestial. Primal. I might not be able to fly. I might not be able to grow scales or a tail. I might be stuck in a human body. But I was a goddamn fucking dragon, and I'd prove it to myself, and to Dr. Palladium, and to this whole fucking universe. And so, lifting up P90's athletic body, I pressed her against the wall. Her legs wrapped around my hips instinctively as my cock surged to life.

It had been un-erect. Cowering in the face of Dr. Palladium and her grotesque personality.

Now?

Now it was hard enough to bend steel. My cock slapped against P90's slick, slippery pussy. Her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked into my face - but I had no time for anything but the pure expression of instinct. I slammed into P90, claiming her as a part of my harem, and claiming my strength. My cock sheathed itself in her cunny and her legs tightened around me as she let out a sound between a groan and a gasp. Her hands worked through my hair as she cradled me to her body, whispering. "Oh Brash!"

I started to fuck her. And as I fucked her, I felt my confidence growing. And as I felt my confidence growing, I felt my anger stoking and honing as I slammed harder and harder and harder, taking advantage of my increased weakness and P90's impressive soak to just fuck with an abandon I had never shown before. I kissed her hard enough to draw a line of sour candy blood, and P90 responded by orgasming so hard that I almost popped out of her sex. But I remained planted just enough to thrust home deep.

My balls boiled over and I growled into her mouth as our tongues dueled. And P90 surrendered, willingly, desperately eager for my tongue to plunder her throat. But I was too busy drawing my head back to roar out in pure bliss as my balls clenched and I came. Seed filled her, spurting into her newly reconstituted sex with blast after blast after blast of thick, white cum. P90 shuddered again, her fingers digging tight against my shoulders as she clung to me. Her eyes were slightly askew and her lids were hooded. She breathed in deep, shuddering gasps.

At that moment...I felt utterly connected to us - sharing our grief, our anger, and our lust.

And I took that connection and surged into it with a psychic shove.

I had never tried this before. I wasn't sure if it would work.

But as I slid out of P90, her hand buzzed with a pale light. She managed to get her feet under her, then clapped her hands together instinctively - pushed slightly by my psychic connection. There was a flash of greenish light that made me wince with its brightness. I grinned fiercely as I stepped backwards - the light fading slightly. P90's eyes widened and her knees wobbled as she held her very own psi-sword in her hands. It had a green edge and she held it as effortlessly as if she had been manifesting them since the day she had been built.

"Whoa..." she whispered.

"Y-You used a...sex based psychic link to arm her!?" Dr. Palladium asked, sounding stunned. "I thought you were just trying to make me jealous."

"That!" I thrust my finger at Dr. Palladium, manifesting my own psi-sword with a flare of red light. "That is why you're going to lose, Dr. Palladium. And why evil will always lose. Because evil thinks of itself. The truth?" I grinned. "I forgot you were even there."

The door to the office opened and a orctrooper in armor stood there, holding a tray covered with potato chips, cookies, and cans of diet soda. He looked, despite wearing a face concealing mask, utterly bored. P90 slashed the tray in half, then grabbed onto the back of the orc's armor and bounced his head off the wall hard enough to dent helmet and wall alike. Next to the orc was his cohort, a fellow who had a rifle hanging at ease. He struggled to bring it up, but I was already running at him. I slashed the rifle in half, then kicked him in the head. He went sprawling, struggled to get up, and I kicked him again, and again, until he was down.

I grinned at P90.

"Lets wreck some fucking face," I said.

P90 had already fished one of the orc's sidearms free. She held a pistol in one hand and a psi-sword in the other.

"...why do none of the Jedi ever do that?" I asked. "It seems like it's a great combo."

P90 looked completely fucking baffled.

TO BE CONTINUED