I’m here, actually talking to Lora Rookson herself! Talking to a legit mercenary commander! Journey felt giddy with excitement. She had listened to Lora’s rules studiously, searing them to memory as best she could. Although it was difficult, for her mind was slipping with each dose of alcohol.
Before her…transformation, Journey rarely drank with others. She often had to drink alone, and had gotten used to whatever local swill that was on hand. Even in deep space, small rabbles of people had found ways to craft some of the wildest brews, if only to take the edge off between work shifts. Journey had sampled them all. Frilista of Canterbury with its ripened cortisol inducing fruits, Sarphi on Waystation Alpha with its lemon additives, and Nadani from Vandermire were her favorites. The Star of Argon had brought quite the collection from across the cluster. She tasted the spirits, and knew it was an off-shoot of Afyis.
Afyis was blended from an enriched source of cloned rice and grain from the agri-world of Tarnak. It was quite possibly the richest, and most expensive, choice of liquor in all of the Cluster. It wasn’t popular for its taste, for it was harsh to her throat, but for its unique intoxicative properties. Each molecule was bonded with an additional set of water molecules. This way, the strong alcoholic content would quickly make one drunk, and then keep you mentally stable enough to continue drinking for a while longer.
Journey had never tasted it before, but after she learned Lora’s fourth rule she no longer cared about its taste. Her lower member stirred as she gazed into the mercenaries blue eyes, and her loins were gushing as she studied the lines of her face. Journey studied each of the scars on Lora’s arms, trying to imagine what story they each contained. She saw Lora standing on a hill, heroically firing into a mob of rebel outlaws, and singing songs of freedom as enemy bullets grazed her fair skin.
The mercenaries red hair was unkempt, and Journey desperately wanted to pluck Lora out of her clothes and help her style it. She could only imagine how gorgeous the soldiers hair would look once given enough time to fully grow.
Her lower member was already getting tingly, and the lower segment of her uniform had grown tight. It was as if the alcohol was actually making her even more horny, which seemed impossible to begin with. The uniform clung to her skin, and she felt it unbearable. More than anything in the world, Journey wanted to remove the top piece to let her girls breath. Journey knew she couldn’t hold back that urge for so long.
“What would you like to eat,” Lora’s voice seemed more distant than ever.
“Semen,” Journey’s blurted out her answer without thinking. The words just flowed off the tip of her tongue. Her stomach was growing at the thought of slurping up her masters essence, and letting it settle in her stomach. She yearned to meet her assigned officer, and pleasure him to the fullest extent.
“What!” Lora jerked with surprise. The mercenary tightened up and nearly dropped the shot glass in her hand. Her eyes studied Journey’s blushing cheeks, as if expecting to have misheard.
“I don’t know what’s come over me, but I could really use some man milk right about now,” Journey grinned. There was excitement in using such terse language. In the past, she never would’ve dreamed of uttering such a thing out loud. Here and now, however, Journey felt a surge of liberation voicing her opinions openly. If some of those opinions were purely driven by a programmed urge for obscene desire, it no longer made any difference to her.
A long pause grew between them. Lora needed a minute to compose herself, to grasp what Journey was truly saying. She then filled up another glass and swallowed it quickly.
Sensing this line of discussion wasn’t going any further, at least not anytime soon, Journey sighed and waved her hand in the air. “Whatever’s fine I guess.”
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“Something’s really wrong with you. You know that right?” Lora asked, keenly aware that Journey’s inhibitions were disintegrating before her very eyes.
Of course there was something wrong with me. I’m horny as f-ck and you’re driving me crazy, Journey thought to herself. Thankfully, she no longer cared. As long as she was suitable to please her assigned master, all was well. She was happy to enjoy herself with others, in the meantime. The world seemed ripe with opportunities for her, and Journey was eager to explore them all.
The following conversations were a blur, for Journey cared little for what Lora had to say. She just wanted, very much, to sit on the tall mercenaries lap, and lick the sweat from her gorgeous breasts. Journey’s eyes wandered jealously up and down the Lora’s body, and she fantasized about all the things this mercenary could do to her.
“Hey! Are you listening?” Lora asked her repeatedly.
“Sorry,” Journey sighed, “I’m just starting to get a little drunk.”
Just as soon as she spoke, the server came with a rather large order. It was then that Journey was shocked to discover they were not alone. At some point during Lora’s conversation, others had joined their table. Journey had been too inebriated, and lustful to notice.
Four others, mercenaries by their physical stature, were seated around them. They were all slowly being drawn to her. Journey’s seat became soaked with her excitement as she watch them slowly glide to either side. Even Lora was subtly giving in to her charms, or so it seemed.
Journey didn’t know it, but the alcohol must’ve done something to enhance the potency of her pheromone laced sweat. For within the next hour, Journey’s entourage had grown only larger. Where the time had gone she could only guess. Everything seemed lively, it felt almost like a dream. Her surroundings had become a blur of lights mixed with carnal pleasure.
Strip dancers paraded themselves upon the many dance floors, each of them beautiful, and in the vibrancy of their youth. Money passed hands with excitement as crowds roared with applause from nearby poker tables. The music bounced off the walls, creating a background of constant noise. The cacophony was deafening at times, although it helped encourage Journey’s mood.
The server sending them new bottles of liquor, a short girl with pixy brown hair and a small narrow chin that reminded Journey of a cute mouse, soon found herself seated at the very same table. The server girl was enthralled, and leaned upon Journey’s shoulder smelling of cheap perfume.
Another hour slipped by, one fueled with meaningless conversation, and growing hunger.
There were now fourteen people circling Journey’s chair, eight of whom were Lora’s own mercenary men. They seemed drawn to Journey’s gorgeous blond hair, cute glasses, and womanly curves. The woman next to her, squeezing her arm against her rib-cage, seemed lured by what was dangling between Journey’s legs.
As soon as the server girls hand reached under Journey’s uniform, and helped free her throbbing shaft, Journey felt as if she were in heaven.
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