The Comfort Out of Space Pt. 01

"Don't worry, I'm coming!" she cried up at him.

The frantic woman descended the long metal ladder with haste and made her towards the grand staircase. Once at his makeshift bedroom, she saw the young man struggling to bring himself back up.

Motherly intuition seeped into her at the sad sight of the helpless boy. His face curled in anger, but she simply misinterpreted it as embarrassment.

"Here, let me help you," she said, bent over just enough for him to glance a few peeks of the pale flesh of large, bra-less breasts under her half-zipped suit. That had quieted the rage, further strengthening the woman's misreading of his emotions. He took a lengthy look up at her as she began to pick him up. She didn't look much older than him, he noticed, while his head briefly rested against her breasts as she picked him up and placed him back into bed.

She was stunning. Her long golden hair shined with undertones of oak and chocolate. Her gentle eyes sparkled in a magnificent blue that seemed deeper and vaster than the ocean of the world he had fantasized about from the safety and confinement of the windows.

"Are you okay,..?" She said with an overabundance of care in her voice, pausing at the end in an attempt to ask his name.

"Ninety-eight, and I'm not okay. Look at me! I'm three-quarters of a man!" He swung his stump at her.

The mysterious woman giggled, her breasts bouncing along with every high-pitched chuckle. "Well, mister ... ninety-eight," she announced playfully, "you look like a normal man to me." She giggled again, pointing to the growing bulge on the south end of his jumpsuit.

He really was embarrassed now, quickly swinging the blanket back over the protruding mass, which did little to conceal its long shaft and thick girth.

"What's your real name?"

98 sighed in confused frustration at that question.

"What do you mean? That's what my pod said." His face was red, while hers began to show a hint of sadness.

"What did they call you before that, silly?"

98 frowned. "I don't ... know, I don't remember anything."

Her kind eyes looked so sorrowful as she took a noticeable pause to think. "The kid couldn't be more than 20 years old, and he doesn't even know his name." She put her hand on his leg, being careful not to give him the wrong idea.

"And your ... family?"

98 shook his head.

"Well that just won't do, I'm not calling you something as robotic as ninety-eight." A smile began to find its way to Tira's lips again. "So, what would you like to be called until your family wakes up and tells us?

The compassion emanating from this woman was absolutely unthinkable to him. She was a gentle fire, and he was a cold bundle of ice beginning to melt under her tenderness and warmth.

"I'm not really sure what normal names sound like." His voice had started to gather a raspy hoarseness under the weight of the realizations this woman had presented him. He felt so much less than human than he could have ever imagined, and she was the proof.

"Sure, you do! She quickly snapped back at him, sensing his growing hopelessness. "Do you have a favorite author? You must love reading if you choose to sleep here!"

98 cleared the lump in his throat, "I do, but I don't know how to ... say it" The emotional constriction was starting to audibly resurge.

"Well, what's your favorite book by them?"

98 tried his best to tell her his favorite stories, but it was hard with no way to name any characters or authors. So, concepts took center stage in his frantic listing. The woman continued her cheerful banter as the traces of an awful memory started to dot his mind in remembrance. It was hazy and fragmented, but still incredibly uncomfortable as it slowly untangled the emotions it was attached to and unburied itself.

Running transitioning into desperate crawling in the attempt to get away from an invisible force of nature.

Desperation.

Struggling to get through the door alive and dropping the book in his hobbling.

Despair.

And finally, he knew it was her that he saw before the door that clipped him came down so suddenly with a vicious guillotine-like--THUD! The woman threw a book down on his lap, bringing him back from the throes of detachment.

"I know just what to call you then," she had noticed the uncertainty on his face, and again, felt sorry for him. How scary everything must have been. How puzzled he must be. "Maybe this will ground him back into normalcy."

"Nice to meet you, Jules, I'm Tira." Tira stared into the uneasy eyes of the young man.

Now that she really got a good look at them, they were a bit odd. His eyes had an unnatural hue of scarlet that streaked through the same light blue as hers. He nervously looked away when he noticed her introspective gaze.

Tira reached out and brought the young man into the first embrace of his waking life. He felt her breasts press against him, but he couldn't care less, he just wanted the human tenderness of the moment to last forever.

Cold, distant C-98 was gone forever, so he hoped. Replaced by Jules, who was just happy to finally have some caring company.

"See how much nicer that is than N-I-N-E-T-Y E-I-G-H-T," she exclaimed, with her last words mimicking the monotonal cadence of a lifeless robot.

Jules cast a shy, goofy smile, the very first one she had seen him wear. Tira began to clap as he stupidly blushed at her like a smitten boy in the schoolyard. Though, Jules' lively expression quickly scrunched in quizzicality as he looked around.

Tira felt very hot all of a sudden. Perspiration plummeted in long streaks from her neck to her chest, which had made the exposed portions of her breasts glisten in the glow of the white lights dotting the ceiling. Jules opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him before a word could leave his lips.

"I'll tell you everything later, but for now, you need to relax and try to get some sleep." She was being somewhat selfish in her decision, but a biological clock deep inside her was sounding an alarm that was already beginning to drown everything out, including remorse. When she looked down to make sure all the sweating hadn't reduced the top of her uniform into transparency, humiliation struck her faster than the light hitting her skin.

She had been giving the young man a show for the entirety of the conversation with the goodies in her half-open suit. No wonder his face was so red and his eyes so erratic. Masked by the patchy cloak of that mortification, something burned deep in her. She wasn't as ignorant and innocent as Jules and knew what needed to be done. So, she zipped up her suit, smiled, and left him with a handful of books before descending the stairs to go and attend to her own needs.

"I'll see you after next wake up, Jules!" She exclaimed from halfway down the stairs.

******

Steam surrounded Tira in the warmth and solace of the dormitory shower as her hands found their way to her little pink button. She had been doing this more and more lately, but it never felt like enough.

Since she awoke from the pod naked and scared during the chaos, so much has changed on the ship. Freezing cold to blissful warmth, the planet on the horizon getting noticeably closer, and the comatose victim to ..."that boy".

His skin was Siberian in feeling when she had carried him to the hospital wing; leaving him in the care of a long, white, medical robot with an uncanny face of dials and vents. She wondered what he did to get so banged up on that momentous day a few months ago, and why he had stolen her first real experience on the ship. Exchanging her excitement for terror and worry.

The bloody handprints on the door he was lying next to when she found him stuck needles into her mind's eye so clearly it made her jump, stopping her from continuing her pursuit of self-satisfaction. But only for a moment. Before her thoughts drifted to how he was now. That robot must have been a miracle worker. It not only saved Jules, who she thought was a goner, but completely transformed his burned and battered body into that of a normal, handsome boy.

He had looked skinnier than when he was first brought back into the library, but she knew deep down that he was no boy. He was clearly a man--a young one, but a man all the same-- and that enormous and assertive cock that had protruded under the blanket eager to meet her was more than enough proof of that.

Tira's pace started to speed up while she basked in the glow of that thought. Another hand drifted up, cupping the perky and rounded flesh of a breast. What had he gotten up to since she had left to ease herself? She imagined him pumping away on that long thing of his, moaning in harmony with her own pleasured squeaks.

"He must be," she knew that beastly cock radiated demandingness. Tira quivered, sliding down on the wall and reducing herself to shallower and shallower breaths as the penultimate moment crept closer. The cold metal of her wedding ring rubbed past her small, rosy areola and up against a rigid and aching nipple. Jolting her preoccupied mind from instinct to, more or less, rational thinking.

To her family still in stasis.

To her husband.

Her infant son.

To shame and loathing.

How could a wife and mother in her thirties lower herself to these immature and lascivious distractions? It's crossed her mind before in some semblance, but this time was so much different.

She knew she wasn't cheating on her beloved Alhan per se, but she was thinking of another man while pleasuring herself. Tira crumpled to the floor and curled into a ball. The water just wasn't warm enough to wash the shame off of her sticky hands once they left her panting body.

A gust of musky, acidic air burst under the door of the large ceramic-lined room. Wafting in plumes throughout the room before hurtling through the open ceiling of Tira's enclosed shower unit with such force that it resembled real wind.

The air hit her in a chilled, continuous gust, cutting through the warmth of the water and thickening the texture of her skin. She had stopped smelling the essence of the air weeks ago, but it had now returned with such intensity that it made her senses distort and her body tremble.

She had reached the threshold without even knowing it. Her brain plunged into a broth of carnal confusion, drowning in the bliss of onset ignorance.

What had been indignity whittled into immorality as the heat yet again discovered her. Tira's hands wandered back down to carry out their work.

She imagined Jules limping into her shower. Red-faced and foolish in his approach. His erect monster cocked and aimed right at her. Maybe he would have nervously said something like "could you help me, I'm in pain and it's hard to wash myself."

But Tira unconsciously knew it wouldn't matter in the least what he would have said, for she was there to selflessly help him. Even before he ever opened his eyes she was always making sure he wasn't too hot or cold, and that the robot delivered his capsules of medicine, sustenance, and vitamins on time every day. This would be no different. In him, her motherly instincts had found a new home.

The fantasy was getting stronger with each passing second, with her tempo following it to such lengths it was starting to wear out her swollen, begging clit. The steam encased her in an otherworldly solitude. Until she saw them.

There was no shower.

No semblance that she was on a spaceship.

There was no longer even a room.

Two gaseous apparitions walked into the void of clouds that her world had become. Tira's hands became limp, and a chill ran up her arched back as she saw the faces of Jules and herself mirrored on the muddled spirits, which solidified more with every passing second. Tira saw her ghostly reflection take his by the hand and lead him onto an invisible seat in the misty deluge.

Her ... or it, she wasn't sure ... adoringly washed him from head to toe. Ending with his full length between its large and accommodating breasts-- as his ghost sat, and hers kneeled--while it diligently cleaned his lower stomach and pubic region.

Tira always knew that she was well endowed, but he was much more so. Her clone's breasts weren't large enough to bury the cock of Jules' now identical imposter. The angry, crimson tip poked out toward the desire-penned face of her doppelganger.

Would it be then that her double would lose itself in the drink of phantom Jules' presence, letting her mouth begin to do the cleaning? Tira was entranced by the dark thought.

The phantoms were so clear and lifelike within her pale, alabaster bubble of gas, making Tira wonder if she had stumbled into some other dimension.

Then ... it happened. The real Tira could only watch in quiet astonishment as her doppelganger used its slick tongue to lick the full length, kissing the head between long, wet laps. His pure face made the pleasure look so unwelcome.

Tira tightly shut her eyes, not wanting to see the contortions of deep-encompassing hunger on him.

For a moment, the sounds stopped abruptly. The pelting of water on tile, the moaning and shuffling of the ghosts, gone. Replaced by the soothing pitter-patter of her beating heart. She never wanted to open her eyes again. Or at least until she was to find herself back in bed, able to put the dream behind her forever if her brain would even let her remember something so wrong.

"Tira ..."Jules' voice called out softly, reminiscent of a young deer nervously fussing for its mother.

She had no say in the reflex that unbolted the heavy weight of her eyelids.

Her spectral mirror twin was nowhere to be found. With Jules's now towering above her. Tira looked up at its skinny frame and horrifying eyes of bright, red fire, and then down at the throbbing cock between her breasts. Its head rested gently on the pillowy surface of her mouth. A thick, shimmering liquid drooled out from the tip, coating her lips like balm.

"Why did you stop," Jules pleaded, gently lifting his cock away from her puckered lips; being ever so careful not to drop it and strike her in its uncomfortable, upward path. Once it was bent into a more vertical--and painful-- position she saw exactly what he meant. The sight made her fall back onto what should have been cold tile. Though, pure spacious heat is what suspended her ass and thighs. Two large balls hung swollen and blue under the long, pale mass they delicately melded into.

"Please, Tira, they don't feel right." The otherworldly context of the experience had long left her mind. Replaced by a deep desire to help the sweet-tempered, naive boy.

He could have attempted any number of forceful things while she sat there, but he didn't. Jules' had waited patiently for her while she--to him-- had stopped alleviating the inferno in his loins.

She knew he was not here to rape her. He was just confused and inexperienced, with his long pole in his hand like some novice plumber. Whom did he have to come to about any of this before her? There were no men on the ship for him to ask about sensitive subjects like masturbation. In fact, there was no one around but the two of them and a few soulless robots that carried out their tasks without any real thought. This would have surely come up eventually, she surmised.

Tira found a spec of clarity wondering how long he had been alone on the confusing and gargantuan ship. "I won't let him feel alone ever again."

Everything had gotten too real much too fast, but it wouldn't be right to not do anything. She sat up and tenderly met his hand at the base of his bent cock, sheathing the monster again between her breasts. She looked away from his drooling tool and met his nervous gaze.

"Have you ever ... um... relieved yourself, Jules?"

The apparition shook its head and looked away with an embarrassed grimace.

Tira bit down, creating a delicate crease on her soft, moist lips. Her hand still grasping his, she began to slide up and down the full length of his cock, slowing down at the sensitive, plum-shaped head on every new stroke. Her breasts jostled with every new trip her hand took around him.

When Tira took her hand away and crept from him-- which caused it to bounce in the absence of her sternum and fleshy pillows-- he kept at the technique she had shown him. It didn't take long for something grating to paint over his pale face.

"How's that?" she asked, crossing her arms in an unsuccessful attempt to cover up her luscious breasts. Jules caught a brief glimpse of an exposed nipple and turned his face away with a reddened complexion.

"It's not working," His hands launched off the warm flesh and formed a cup which he slipped over his eyes "I.. can't-!"

The vapors of the ethereal space strengthened in their intensity. Once an environment of perspectively endless mist, the area now collapsed into pure, claustrophobic closeness. The smell was now much stronger, following the mist in its proximal intimacy and crushing psychological force.

Light played tricks with the specter of charged molecules in front of her. Illuminating the effervescent nature of Jules' bastardized form. Tira's head drunkenly nodded and wobbled about in such a way it was like her neck was far too heavy for her head. Her eyes struggled to keep straight on the original, immaterial man as many spinning reflections branched off around him.

One way or another, her hands filled again with him. It appeared to be much easier to keep straight her sight on the oblong thickness stretching out from his waist.

"Do..n't worryyy sweetie, I'm here." Shortly after spilling the skewed words out, something hot and thick penetrated her mouth. Jules' hands were still at his head, but she cared little if at all about who initiated the battle between her tongue and the glorious crown of his cock.

Her small hand worked the shaft as the other grabbed one of his heavy balls. As she swirled her tongue diligently around the mass that was fed to her, her thumb softly rubbed the testicle she was clasping. Tira animalistically slurped and bobbed on him like a woman possessed, as Jules' cock ventured deeper into her throat with every dip. Every time it would go back in she felt his whole body tremble. Heavy saliva thickened and caked around her mouth whenever she would pull the mass out of her throat to take a lifegiving gasp of breath.

She had expected him to completely avoid steady eye contact. To be the boy whose first impressions were those of quiet shyness and endearing meekness. But smoldering eyes stared down at her with intense desire, glancing through her as if she were just another unquantifiable figment in the mist.

The force of his gaze lit a great flame of passion in her. Her inner thighs had acquired such a stickiness, a stark contrast from when she tried to feign some modesty only minutes before.

She spit out his wet cock, pressing her breasts together as the other had. Fingers found nipples to holster and massage while her breasts ebbed and flowed around Jules' holstered rod. Jiggling fat pounded on turgid wet steel as her mouth caught what couldn't be covered. Jules' face began to sink with concentrational constraint.

"Tira ... it's ... it's." Tira sensed the imminent explosion his heavy balls would deliver and tried to slowly pull away again.

"Not on me." She had no desire to be covered in his thick mess.

He held the base of his cock, still aimed at her mouth, and exploded. Shot after shot of hot, viscous seed landed on Tira's tongue. She was anchored and still in bliss as his masculine essence overtook her. Ropes of cum dripped slowly from her mouth as she swallowed his gift.

"Fuuuck," she groaned.

"Poor baby," Tira moaned, licking her lips before falling out of the throes of fiction and back into her dormitory shower square. She opened her eyes.

Her back was against the wall, with her hand still resting on her sticky slit. As it was before the madness--and he-- came.