Gromet's PlazaTransformation Stories

The Ship's Queen 3

by Jackie Rabbit

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© Copyright 2014 - Jackie Rabbit - Used by permission

Storycodes: M+/f; D/s; transform; M2f; bodymod; space; scifi; tease; foot; strip; mast; denial; captive; bond; tape; gag; bfold; susp; sex; anal; climax; cons; X

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Part Three

I left the cargo office still in need, but the image of my hologram being suspended and whipped haunted my every thought. It could be the ultimate offer of submission, the only question was if I could actually go through with it...

I walked in the direction of the engineering department, where the men who actually kept the Fortunate running at peak performance had their shop. The ship was relatively new compared to some of the junkers navigating deep space these days, and as a result not much ever seemed to need repair. The men spent their time doing maintenance, and helping out in other departments like cargo if needed. As a result the engineers had time to perform their jobs to exacting perfection, and time to devise some creative mischief as well.

I entered their shop and was surprised to see several of the men around their office table discussing something of apparent importance, and my first thought was that something was wrong with the ship. The ordinarily gruff chief engineer then invited me over sweetly, and pulled up a high stool for me to sit on. My position having the effect of displaying a majority of my new body above the level of the large table where he and his men could get a good look at it.

I instantly realized that I alone likely had the solution to what troubled the engineers, and it felt quite empowering to be in that position both literally, and figuratively, as if I were a pretty toy doll upon the shelf that everybody in engineering wanted to play with. Unfortunately this proverbial toy could find herself ripped apart should the men all decide they wanted to play at the same time, and I realized the folly of throwing myself into this situation, my own desires outweighing common sense.

"What brings you around?" the chief engineer asked in a tone reminiscent of the young men who had chatted up my wife at parties back home while I played maid.

"I'd rather not say" I told my theoretical superior while biting on the corner off my lower lip.

He smiled as if he knew what I was after, and the men's eyes followed my legs from my high heels to the hem of my short dress where it met the stool, it already hiked even higher by the act of crossing my thighs and mounting the high seat. The chief engineer however focused on my heels, or possibly what lay inside of them.

I slipped one of the tiny heels almost all the way off and dangled it on my perfectly painted toes as I made sultry small talk with the men, and I was reminded not of toys, but of fishing. Cast your bait and wiggle it enticingly, and see what bites. I could tell that the fish in this particular pond were interested, and hungry, but I also suspected the biggest fish in this pond might bite first.

I found myself feeling desires that threatened to overwhelm my sanity, but I didn't know if these were natural desires that all women feel, or enhanced ones due to the machines specific modifications of my new and magnificent body. If these were natural desires, (I thought), I had new insight into the raging hormonal need my young wife likely battled every day to find and attempt to breed with the best man she could find. It was therefore a painful moment of introspection that lead me to the conclusion that I wasn't that person, and may never be.

I was a natural passive/submissive, and derived pleasure from serving others, to include my young wife. For hormonal reasons that I was just beginning to understand, she likely lusted for a modern day barbarian, a man that could throw her to the bed and take what good manners demanded she couldn't ask for. A further thought grew in my mind, it was the product of the seed of insight first planted by the doctor when I had asked for better man equipment in exchange for my cooperation. My former average man equipment was never the problem, and even if the doctor gave me the proportions of a true Begorian in exchange for my willingness to serve the men of the Fortunate, I would be a nothing more than a well endowed servant to my frustrated young wife when I returned...

I was drawn back to the present as the chief engineer had slipped my heel off and was rubbing my foot in a delicious way. I had no idea that something so innocent looking could feel so good, and I groaned as my head lolled back with the pleasant assault on my tiny arch.

"Dismissed" the man barked, and I smiled as I heard the agitated scraping chairs of the junior officers being pushed in, and I realized the biggest fish had struck decisively and first.

When the men had gone he picked me up and deposited me on the conference table so my bare feet that seemed the focus of his lust wouldn't have to touch the floor, however clean it was kept by the robotic cleaning droids. We cooperatively removed my dress, but then I found myself on my back on the cold table, still wearing my matching bra and panties. The chief engineer made love to both of my bare feet with his rubs and kisses as he stood at the edge of the table with my perfect legs extended near vertically, and while not exactly what I needed, there was no denying the eroticism of the moment.

He stepped out of his uniform after a fair amount of his unique foreplay, but instead of doing what I needed, he instead plunged his manhood between my upper thighs. He made love to them as he continued his wonderful assault on my tiny feet, I sensing that he wouldn't last but seconds with the friction of my tightly pinned thighs.

He popped off in seconds and blasted my body from my bra to my stomach, I being fascinated by the event as seen from a unique vantage point. He thanked me, and I him, even though I thought to myself "Is that all?", the man spent from his efforts. I was quite the mess, and he directed me to the gang showers that the men use after one of the very infrequent dirty repair jobs, I leaving my dress on the table and cupping the mess he had deposited on my body as not to make a mess on the floor.

The showers were clean, and I started the warm water and showered off while still wearing my messy undergarments to clean them off before they became permanently stained, as I had some experience with man stains on clothes back at home, and knew they could be stubborn. I was far too frustrated to sample the chief engineers mess for myself, and thought once again of my young wife and how cruel it was to need something on an instinctive level, but to come up short.

Once I was certain my undergarment were clean I worked myself out of them, finding it far harder than one might think wet as they were. The engineer's shower had no limit on the hot water available to it, and I luxuriated in it while distracted with my attempts at self satisfaction, but once again finding my new things stubbornly unresponsive. My eyes were closed when the lights went out, but I could still see the change through my closed eye lids when that happened. I thought at first that I had stood in one place too long and the automatic lights had turned off to save energy, but when I waved my arms for the sensors they didn't respond.

The compartment was very dark, and before my eyes adjusted to the darkness I felt a hand cover my mouth, and then a blindfold was wrapped about my eyes sealing me in darkness. It both felt and sounded like more sailor's self sticking tape, and I knew it would be near impossible to remove without being able to see the end of it. The man standing up against me was just as naked as I was, and I felt his muscular body firmly up against my soapy one, hoping his intentions matched my own. It certainly FELT like his intentions were going in the right direction.

The man hissed in my ear to attempt to conceal his identity, but I knew better. "If you don't scream I won't hurt you" he offered as he experimentally uncovered my mouth, all while his other powerful arm circled my thin waist possessively...

"Oh, where's the fun in that" I countered, the lust seeping out of my sweet mouth. "If I don't scream your not doing it right" I challenged, thinking back to the sounds coming from my young wife's bedroom the night before I left her in the company of my best friend on planet.

My assailant's hand shot back to cover my mouth once again, and I bit his palm playfully. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this" he threatened in his natural voice, and I thought a silent "me too". More sailor's tape was applied across my mouth forming what I thought was an imperfect cleave gag, and the phrase "Be careful what you wish for..." popped into my mind. This however left both of my assailants hands free to do whatever he wanted, and he wrapped both of my wrists together with still more of his special wrap, but trapping my arms in front of me instead of behind my back where I would have been potentially far more helpless.

I should have known better as the man seemed quite resourceful, and well equipped to subdue me in the shower even thought I only offered a token amount of resistance to that point, he then ordering me to reach up as far as I could with my bound arms. I felt foolish doing so and resisted, but a resounding crack with his bare hand on my naked and wet ass not only convinced me to humor him, but that my cleave gag was more effective that I initially thought as my yelp was effectively muffled in that potentially echo filled shower.

With my arms held high over my head by the implication that more smacks were potentially coming my way, the man effortlessly lifted me and placed the pipe of the running shower head between my bound wrists and slid me up against the chilly wet wall, and when he gently let me down I found my toes reaching for the floor below, but not touching it. With the blindfold on I didn't know if I was inches away from touching, or much further, but guessing on our relative heights when he released me I suspected I was very close.

It was a narcissistic thought, but I could just imagine the perfect picture I presented to my assailant, my position somewhat reminiscent of the one my hologram was in while projected in the cargo office. That one was whipped however, and I only spanked once for my mild disobedience, at least so far!

This was no tender foreplay before making love, but the rough and naked testosterone driven aggression of one of the junior crewmen, and desperately desired by me despite the forbidden laps in rank order queue for my attentions. I knew he was breaking several rules, and so was I, but at least I could claim I had no choice in things if questioned by the captain or senior men.

Despite my bonds I was a willing participant, and when he lifted me into position with his powerful hands on my tiny ass, I cooperatively hung my wet legs over his shoulders. I went for the ride of my life in that shower, my assailant's teeth on my hypersensitive buds driving me so far over the top that I wondered why any woman wouldn't want to do this several times a day. Being bound and blindfolded, and taken ostensibly against my will only added to the experience for me, and the squishing sounds my silky smooth body made against his hairy one under the endless stream of water just too strange to accurately put to words.

He was possibly not as large as the doctor, but that didn't seem to matter as I howled into my gag over and over again, and after his third and somewhat less savage plundering of my hanging body, I wondered how I would ever get used to NOT doing this. Had my secret exploits in junior college prepared me for this more so that the crew's earlier ship's queens, and what then of the original ship's queen?

The man picked me up once again to remove me from the pipe, he apparently not able to go again even though I could have done so, but the mess he left behind impressive in it's quantity. That feeling was unique all on it's own, but not terrible by any means, and since we were in the shower he released my hands and we cooperatively showered with him doing most of the actual soaping up, if for nothing else but to remove the evidence of his potential crime. I could tell he was having a post intercourse low, and possibly he felt guilty for taking me as he just did, but that changed when he removed my gag and I thanked him.

His rough hands felt wonderful, and he renewed his interest in my breasts as he pinched my soapy buds that he had teased to great effect earlier, I once again responding myself. I felt him up against me, getting hard still again as if he were inhuman, or had gone for months without. I felt around in front of me and put my hands on the wall for stability as he playfully pushed up against me, his hand fumbling with his soapy manhood when I made no effort to stop him. The direction of his interest seemed unclear, but when he pushed up against me I relaxed and allowed him access, his efforts causing me a sharp intake of breath as my eyes went fully open and my back arched.

I felt him grow inside of me, his permitted slow thrusts in this most taboo place seemed to both surprise and please him. It was strictly speaking the captains territory, but I didn't know if he had exclusive rights, or merely first rights. The doctor and his magnificent machine had apparently not modified this part of my new anatomy as some of the others had been, and I wondered if this was intentional. Could the men have wanted to retain this one act as a punishment, designed for the captain, or others exclusive use?

If that were their intentions it wasn't working. While not driving me toward still another orgasm on it's own, the act itself was quite familiar, and my assailants hands were roughly manhandling my breasts to great effect. The man's pace picked up, as did my legs right up and off of the floor with his efforts, and his hands moved to my hips to guide things along. My arms held at least half of my slight weight, and my hanging breasts swung with his efforts as he drove into me. I went along for the ride, but wished I was still bound, just like in junior college when I had willingly placed myself in position to be 'taken'.

The man's hands dug into my hips when he eventually popped off still again, buried as deep inside of me as he could get, and I felt once again like a used toy when he was done with me. It wasn't terrible, and in my mind was the price I had to pay for three phenomenal orgasms, probably exponentially better that anything I had ever managed to do for my young wife back at home, other that my last night on planet when I had been coerced into asking my best friend to spent the night with her. I may have been naïve back then, but with all I had learned recently I certainly couldn't blame her, or even him.

The man instructed me to keep my eyes closed, removed the blindfold with me facing away from the exit, and he left me to finish my shower. I hung my wet things in the shower to dry, wrapped myself up in a towel, and picked up my dress off of the table where I had left it and walked back to my quarters to nap. Apparently multiple orgasms can take it's toll on a body, and I napped in my comfortable bed while having some very odd dreams...

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