[Designated Fuckpet] Getting Ready to Serve

As the mind printing machine's gentle hum ceased, you felt a sudden surge of sensations, like a dam had burst, releasing a torrent of desires and instincts. Your gaze drifted to the Captain, and you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. You felt an overwhelming urge to please him, to make him happy. Your thoughts were a jumbled mix of excitement and trepidation, but the dominant emotion was a deep-seated need to submit.

Your eyes dropped to the floor, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks as you realized that your new body was responding to the situation in ways you could not control.

You stood up, your new body swaying slightly as you struggled to maintain balance. The Captain's eyes roved over you, a mixture of amusement and approval on his face. You felt a shiver run down your spine as his gaze lingered on your curves, and you couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking.

"Ready for duty, Sir," you said, trying to sound confident despite the turmoil brewing inside you. Your voice was higher-pitched now, and it sounded strange to your own ears.

The Captain chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I think you'll find your duties have... changed, somewhat," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo.

You smile nervously, gathering your courage as you ask, "Well, then, how shall I begin?" Your voice trembles slightly, and you can't help but notice the way the Captain's eyes seem to gleam with amusement at your hesitation. He takes a step closer to you, his movements deliberate and confident, and you can feel a flutter in your chest as he reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Ah, I think we'll start with something simple," he says, his voice low and soothing. "Why don't you go and get us some drinks from the galley? I'm sure the others would love a refreshment after a long day's work."

"Yes, Sir," you respond crisply, your feminine voice filled with relief, and perhaps disappointment. Your feet immediately carry you towards the door; your hips adding an automatic sexy swish to your stride. As you walk, you can't help but notice the way your new body moves, the way your breasts bounce slightly with each step. You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you realize that you're enjoying the sensation, enjoying the way your body is responding to its new femininity.

You push open the door to the galley and step inside, the soft hum of the refrigeration units and the gentle glow of the LED lights enveloping you.

You take a deep breath and wave nervously at your three other crewmates waiting inside, feeling embarrassed by their appraising stares as you glide over to the bar to prepare a tray of drinks. The sensation of your new body moving with a new grace is still foreign to you, but you find yourself enjoying the way your hips sway as you walk.

You reach the bar and begin to gather glasses, your hands trembling slightly as you do so. Your mind is racing, filled with a mixture of excitement and fear at the thought of serving your crewmates in your new form.

As you reach for the glasses, your fingers brush against the cool surface of the bar, sending a shiver down your spine. You can't help but notice the way your new hands look, softer and more delicate than before. You feel a pang of self-consciousness as you realize that your crewmates are still watching you, their eyes fixed on your every move.

You take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand, carefully selecting the right glasses and beginning to pour the drinks. The sound of the liquid flowing into the glasses is almost musical, and you find yourself swaying slightly to the rhythm.

You strutted gracefully towards the crewmates, the tray held aloft in one hand, the glasses and bottles perfectly balanced as you moved. The soft clinking of the glasses against each other was the only sound accompanying your approach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in your newfound femininity. As you reached the table, you carefully began to distribute the drinks, your hands moving with a precision that belied the turmoil brewing inside you.

The crewmates watched you with varying degrees of interest, their eyes roving over your new body as you worked.

A blush spreads across your face as you wait for a reaction, then you decide to break the silence. "Will there be anything else, Masters?" you ask, trying to sound confident and composed, despite the nervous flutter in your chest. Your eyes dart around the table, meeting the gaze of each crewmate in turn. Steven's eyes seem to gleam with amusement, while Tyrone's expression is more serious, his eyes fixed intently on your face. Gilbert's gaze lingers on your body, his eyes roving over your curves, before finally meeting your eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Noah's gaze lingers on yours for a moment, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles. "Not right now, Pet," he says, his voice low and smooth. "Just stand there for a moment and let us enjoy the view." His eyes roam over your body, taking in the curves of your new form. You feel a flush rise to your cheeks as you stand there, the tray still held aloft in one hand.

Tyrone speaks up, his voice a little gruff. "You're doing well, Pet," he says. "I know this can't be easy for you." His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a glimmer of kindness there.

"Thank you, Sirs," you answer, your voice husky and confident, and cannot resist the impulse to pose for their pleasure. You subtly shift your weight, angling your hips and accentuating the curves of your new body. Your hands, still holding the tray, rise slightly, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts. "I'm grateful that you're easing me into things," you continue, your eyes locked on the Captain's, a hint of mischief dancing in their depths. "However, you gave me such a sexy body, are you really satisfied with just staring at it?"

Noah's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leans back in his chair.

Captain Stubin's eyes seem to gleam with amusement as he enters the galley and regards you, his gaze roving over your body with a slow, deliberate intensity. He seats himself and leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and steeples his fingers together as he speaks. "Oh, I think we're just getting started, Pet," he says, his voice low and husky. "We've had a long time to think about what we want to do with you, and I'm afraid just staring at you isn't going to be enough."

Tyrone shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his eyes darting back and forth between you and the Captain.

Your eyes autofocus on Tyrone's crotch as they measure his discomfort, the subtle shift in his posture and the faint flush rising to his cheeks a testament to the turmoil brewing beneath his stoic exterior. For a moment, you're transfixed by the bulge in his pants, your mind racing with the implications of what's to come. The Captain's words hang in the air like a challenge, and you can't help but wonder what Tyrone's role will be in the events that are about to unfold.

Tearing your attention back to the Captain, you shiver with dread and anticipation, your heart racing in your chest like a wild animal.

You nod, your eyes never leaving the Captain's. The tension in the room is palpable, and you can feel the weight of the Captain's words as they hang in the air. Tyrone's discomfort is now more obvious, his hands clenched into fists on the table.

The Captain's gaze never wavers as he speaks again. "Very well, Pet. I think it's time to get started." He rises from his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "Tyrone, please show our new pet to the quarters we've prepared for her."

Tyrone's fists unclench, and he rises from his seat, his eyes avoiding yours as he gestures towards the door. "This way, Pet," he says, his voice gruff, but not unkind. You nod, and follow him, the Captain's eyes never leaving your back as you exit the galley.

As you walk, Tyrone's pace is slow and deliberate, giving you time to take in the surroundings. The corridor stretches out before you, lined with doors leading to various parts of the ship. Tyrone stops at a door marked "Crew Quarters - Authorized Personnel Only" and scans his ID badge.

The door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a small, dimly lit room that seems to have been specifically designed with your new form in mind. Tyrone steps aside, allowing you to enter, and you do so with a sense of trepidation, your eyes adjusting slowly to the soft, golden light that permeates the space.

The room is dominated by a large, circular bed, its surface covered in plush, white linens that seem to glow in the soft light. The bed is surrounded by a series of padded, velvet-covered pillars, each one adorned with intricate, silver filigree that seems to dance in the dim light.

As you step into the room, the soft golden light envelops you, casting a warm glow on your synthetic skin. The air is thick with the scent of lavender and vanilla, a subtle yet intoxicating aroma that seems to seep into your pores. Your eyes adjust slowly to the dim light, and you take in the opulent decore, the plush linens, and the velvet-covered pillars that seem to whisper promises of decadence and indulgence.

Tyrone's voice breaks the spell, his words low and husky as he speaks from behind you. "This is your quarters, Pet. You'll be staying here... for the duration."

As Tyrone's words hang in the air, you feel a subtle vibration beneath your feet, a gentle hum that seems to emanate from the very core of the ship. The sound is almost imperceptible, but it's enough to make you feel a shiver run down your spine. You turn to face Tyrone, your eyes locking onto his as you await further instruction.

Tyrone's gaze holds yours for a moment, his eyes searching for something in your expression. Then, seemingly satisfied, he nods and takes a step back, his eyes never leaving yours. "You'll find everything you need in here," he says, his voice low and husky. "The Captain will be with you shortly."

"Y. Yes, Sir," you squeak out, your voice barely above a whisper. Somehow being alone with Tyrone is more intimidating than standing before all four men. You feel a flutter in your chest as you try to process the mix of emotions swirling inside you. Tyrone's gaze seems to bore into your skin, making you feel **** and exposed.

"I. I best prepare myself," you stammer, trying to sound confident despite the tremble in your voice. You take a step back, your eyes darting towards the bed, and then back to Tyrone. His expression remains neutral, but you sense a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Tyrone nods, his movements economical and precise. " Very well, Pet. I will leave you to prepare." He turns to leave, but before he exits the room, he turns back to face you. "Remember, Pet, you are here to serve and pleasure the crew. You are a machine, built for their pleasure and satisfaction. Do not forget that." He pauses for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing as you try to process the weight of Tyrone's words. You glance around the room, your eyes taking in the luxurious surroundings.

"A gilded cage," you whisper. "A doll house for the sexdoll."