Starship of Lust Ch. 02

"... Very well. Allow me to educate you, Chief Engineer." She was irritated, but didn't appear surprised at my apparent incompetence. "Based upon recent observations, I feel that your engineering cohort has had difficulty staying focused on their work, specifically in the presence of female crewmates. We have witnesses that would attest to multiple instances of inappropriate staring from members of your department. Do you deny this?"

"No," I responded simply. Her accusations were correct. In tandem with my alterations to the female uniform, I had loosened the engineers' understanding of certain social norms. They weren't about to start jacking off when they saw a pretty lady, but they didn't see much problem with gawking at her body for a solid ten seconds. This was intentional, to make the women of the ship feel uncomfortable interacting with the engineers, and provoke leadership (that is, Locke) to take corrective action

Locke continued. "Therefore, in accordance with Unified Nations naval code in the event of uninhibited sexual desire, the Athens will be enacting sexual processing for its engineers."

"'Sexual processing'? I'm sorry, I'm not fully up to date on the specifics of our code. What does that entail, exactly?" I kept up the act. We were just getting to the good part.

The Admiral sighed at my feigned ignorance, but answered me nonetheless. "To maintain productivity, it is necessary to offer an outlet of release for crewmates with excessive libido. In such a scenario, it is incumbent upon the command staff of the vessel in question to provide sexual relief to the afflicted individuals."

"Meaning?" It was dressed up in formal language, but Locke had just said something absolutely ridiculous -- without realizing as much, of course.

"Meaning, in our case, the command staff of the Athens will provide sexual relief to its engineers."

"So, you are here because...?" I kept pushing. Every word she spoke was equally wonderful and hilarious.

"I am here to facilitate your sexual processing, Chief Engineer." She did not look embarrassed in the slightest. Truly a model soldier.

This was the result of applying my implant "updates" in a slightly novel way. Typically, I had to slowly adjust existing common sense. If you lived years wearing a certain uniform, and then it completely changed the next day, the brain would unconsciously notice too many discrepancies. That's why I couldn't use my "updates" for immediate, drastic changes.

However, it's somewhat easier to make larger alterations if you focus away from aspects of the subject's everyday life. Human memory is already fickle. We can't recall every facet of our lives with crystal clarity. If you saw a movie only once, years ago, chances are you don't remember every little detail. If someone insisted that a certain character said a certain minor line in a certain scene, you'd probably agree, just because you don't remember one way or the other.

This operates on a similar principle. Our naval code is a long, massive document, impossible for even someone like Catherine Locke to fully memorize. So, if I "update" her brain's recollection of the code -- an area of her memory she doesn't usually access -- I have more wiggle room than usual to insert something absurd. I still can't make her believe something completely nonsensical, but as long as it's wrapped up in just enough "rational" logic, her brain would accept it as reasonable. So, over the course of only a few days, I successfully constructed this idea of "sexual processing" in Locke's mind (as well as everyone else aboard the Athens).

To make this work, I also had to set up a fake digital version of the naval code on our ship's network, since someone would inevitably try to access the document electronically. Thankfully, that was relatively easy to do. The security was far simpler to bypass than our implant database, which I'd already hacked into to apply my "updates" in the first place.

"So... what should I do?" I asked the Admiral.

She grit her teeth, but maintained a relatively cordial expression. "... Please take off your pants and underwear."

I followed her instructions. Now naked from the waist down, I moved to sit on the side of my bed.

"Aren't you going to undress, too?" I prodded.

"No," Locke flatly refused. "You are already sufficiently aroused for your processing."

She wasn't wrong; my cock stood tall, pointing right at her face. Knowing what was coming, I couldn't help myself from getting hard as soon as she walked in.

Locke walked over to me, her microskirt fluttering ever so slightly. With a monotone delivery, she told me, "For your sexual processing, I am going to make you orgasm with my hand, Chief Engineer."

Still standing, and without waiting for any kind of response, she placed her hand onto my penis and began to stroke. Her movements were slow and robotic, and she stared at the wall without directly facing me. It seemed she had no inclination to treat this as anything more than a formal procedure.

To an extent, that was expected. Under my current "updates", the only stipulation to "sexual processing" is that she has to make me cum with her body. She's not forced to fuck me or anything -- based on my simulations, her brain would've rejected the "update" if I went that far right off the bat. I fully intended to get there eventually, but it will take time. Catherine Locke is strong; she has to be broken down before she can be built back up.

Still, this lackluster effort won't do, Admiral. "If you want to make me cum, we'll be here for an hour at this rate."

For the first time since she started touching me, Locke looked at me. Behind her glasses, her eyes were filled with disgust and revulsion. On a personal level, she loathed me. However, that's why "sexual processing" was perfect for her. She was the type to prioritize her "duty" above her feelings.

"What would you suggest, Cooper?", she growled.

"It might get me going if you told me how my cock compared to your husband's," I proposed.

She scowled. "Absolutely not. This is only sexual processing. Don't think you can use it to intrude on my personal life."

"Hm..." I figured as much. "Then I think I'll need more physical stimulation. Can I touch your boobs?"

Locke looked like she was about to yell at me, but held her tongue. She knew that I wasn't really exaggerating; it would take a while for me to cum with a lousy handjob like this, especially if I was actively trying not to.

"... Go ahead." She eventually spat.

With her express permission, I reached up and groped her tits. She was still wearing her jacket (and presumably a bra underneath), so there were a couple layers between her flesh and mine, but it was still a fantastic experience.

On paper, for "sexual processing", each engineer was randomly assigned a single female member of the Athens' administrative staff. Right now, every engineer on the ship was in a similar position as myself. However, it obviously wasn't chance that I lucked out and got paired with Locke. I'd preemptively inserted a bug into our ship's randomization software, to ensure that this outcome would occur.

Before Locke could react, I undid a couple of her jacket buttons, fully revealing her large underwear-clad breasts. Her bra was jet-black, incidentally. Its design was extremely simple, prioritizing pure functionality. It was her normal bra, after all, not a set of lingerie.

"Hey! I didn't say you could do that!" Unsurprisingly, she was furious.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but wouldn't you prefer to get this over with as soon as possible? These tits are marvelous... I'm sure I'd cum in no time if you let me play with them." I tried to entice her with the idea that this could be over in the blink of an eye, and frankly, I was mostly being serious.

From her expression, Locke was clearly repulsed by the thought, but she silently mulled it over even so. I supposed it was a tough decision. She didn't want this to become anything approaching a legitimate sexual encounter, but she didn't want to be rubbing my dick all night either. Only one thing was immutable: she had to make me cum. The details were entirely up to her.

"Very well," she relented, with a noticeable bitterness in her voice. "But only my chest, understood?"

"Yes, ma'am!" I reacted only a split-second after she gave consent, practically ripping off her bra. Her hand stopped stroking my cock for a beat, perhaps needing a moment to come to terms with this. Unperturbed, I eagerly admired the bare breasts of Admiral Catherine Locke, hero of the Unified Nations. They were perky and well-shaped, with immaculate blemishless skin and small pink nipples. Upon close inspection, her boobs were a little smaller than her sister's, Major Adams, but in the same way that a large mountain is technically smaller than Mount Everest. They're both huge, on an objective scale.

The Admiral resumed her handjob and, I have to say, it actually did feel better with these two funbags in front of my face. However, I obviously wasn't content to just watch. I reached up to enjoy those tremendous tits, cupping one in each hand. They were hefty and firm; a perfect set. Unable to restrain myself, I thrust my face forward, sandwiching my head between her massive melons. Out of the corner of my eye, I detected her frown deepen -- but she didn't object.

Without removing my face from Locke's bosom, my hands went to work, ceaselessly squeezing and squishing. Somewhat inadvertently, my fingers eventually grazed the tips of her nipples. She began to shy away by reflex, but caught herself and refused to retreat from my touch. Emboldened, I began to tease and prod her nipples in earnest.

"Hmph..." My only feedback was a slight grunt of disdain. This wasn't a porno; she wouldn't start moaning and salivating just because I mildly stimulated a sensitive area. Catherine Locke was a fiercely disciplined woman.

Still, that wouldn't stop me from going further. I raised one of her tits to my lips and latched onto the nipple.

"You --!" Locke almost lashed out at me, but seemed to reconsider. It's true that this was on the edge of what she said she'd allow, but I was keeping myself to her chest. My hands and tongue never ventured to any other part of her person.

Her body did shudder slightly as I sucked at her udders, and her nipples grew a little stiffer, but she never gave me the satisfaction of overtly acknowledging that she felt any pleasure from my actions. Her face was a stone mask, and had returned to staring at the wall. Her handjob was essentially unchanged from how she'd started, still slow and indifferent. She was determined to keep my "sexual processing" as businesslike as possible.

I didn't mind. The act of giving me a handjob alone was a brilliant starting point. With my "updates", it wouldn't be hard to turn that starting point into something even more extraordinary.

After at least twenty minutes, I finally came. There were no words exchanged between us for that duration. For my part, I was engrossed in her tits the whole time, whereas Locke had no reason to try and converse with me in the first place.

She let me cum across my own floor, perhaps as some small act of rebellion. Then, she stepped back, her hand momentarily sticking to my cock due to a combination of sweat and precum.

"Ah... thank you, Admiral." I grinned at her devilishly, making no effort to hide how much I enjoyed that.

"... You are welcome, Chief Engineer. Now that your sexual processing is complete, I expect you will focus on your responsibilities with renewed vigor tomorrow," she responded stiffly. Her voice maintained a level tone, but her eyes held only contempt.

"When will I see you again?" I asked.

"Sexual processing is a nightly task. I will be here again tomorrow at approximately the same time." Sounding as far from thrilled as one could be, Locke repositioned her bra and rebuttoned her jacket -- well, just enough to return to her usual state of cleavage, that is.

"Sounds lovely. Have a good night."

Not dignifying me with a reply, Catherine Locke left through the door, leaving my semen still spread across the metal floor.

Wow, she really hates me. That truly was only the bare minimum of the "sexual processing" definition I'd encoded into my "updates". However, rather than being dejected by her hostility, I was invigorated. Knowing that she's starting from a place of such extreme animosity will only make her sweeter to conquer.

I had to admit, I was pleased with myself. A month ago, tonight would have been a total fantasy. But now, thanks to my neural implant "updates", one of the most beautiful and powerful women in the galaxy -- a married woman, no less -- had willingly served as my personal masturbator. This was only the beginning. Before long, I was going to enjoy every inch of Admiral Locke's body -- and somewhere along the way, I'd make sure she begged me to do it.