Cramming things into shafts

Never have you been so thankful for the time you spent on the nudist planet Neo Gaia. Months on that planet, hiking buck naked through the whipping grass prairie really gave you quite the tolerance for adventuring in your birthday suit. It really makes you appreciate times like this. You hardly notice the cold metal slap against your feet as as you hurdle down the corridor nor the sway of your pillowy bosom, rising and falling with each step.

After putting some much needed distance between yourself and the alien ambush, you stop to catch your breath and listen. Over your own heavy panting there is nothing save for the occasional groan of tired support struts, **** to bear the crushing embrace of gravity. You keep listening for signs of life; Bellextra’s warcry, Captain Mal’s derision, a pirates chortle, anything that would give you a clue as to where you are going. There is nothing.

Dissatisfied with the silence, you idly knock on wall panels until you find what you’re looking for. A maintenance shaft. Every ship has them, even the Breaker. You use them all the time to lock prisoners away in a dark place with nothing to think about, save their fate and whatever vibrators you strap to their genitals. Sadly, the Federation is not as creative as you, and there are no strapped up malcontents awaiting discipline. Maybe if you're lucky you can find some pirates and shove them in here. Still, they make a great way to get around without being seen. You pop in and close the hatch behind you.

Not having a particular destination in mind you crawl forward, until you find a ladder. Then you start climbing. It is pitch black so you make use of a small flashlight to light the way. Everyone once in awhile you stop to listen, inspect a wall of conduits, or head down another crawlspace; a gerbil in an impossible tube house. Unlike the furry rodent, you have a purpose, even if you don't have a destination. It takes a while, but your wanderings finally pay off.

It starts with a burned finger. The pain is almost as nice as Bellextra’s brutal ministrations and you suckle it tenderly. You found a live wire. That means someone’s close by. Based on the thick bundles of nano-optic cables you’re near the central processor. Carefully, silently, you follow the multicolored chords. The harsh edges of the shaft dig in to your skin.

Through the thin wall separating the shaft from the main corridor comes the screeching protest of metal not wanting to move. Every muscle you have turns to stone save your lips. Those curl into a smile. In the hallway, someone is forcing open a door.

“Come on. We got to go!” It’s remarkable how much a man’s voice can sound like a pussy.

“You know what he’ll do to us if we let her get away.” Another **** whisper, this one female.

“Syna’c divago kcoooh!” And a Mynta, if you recognize the language and the throaty voice.

“That’s right,” comes the first voice. “Besides, if we fight her and she captures us, we won’t want the captain to rescue us.” As they bicker you busy yourself modifying a grenade. Before they can run off and ruin this fine opportunity you toss it a dozen feet down the tube. It lands right where you want it.

“What was that?” comes the woman.

“Mkgalla toda ran. Nenot tai.”

“You go check it out!” says the wuss.

“Bok!” There is the soft padding of boots that you can only hear because you’ve pressed your ear to the wall. Slowly they move closer and closer to your little surprise. There is a snap and a click as the access hatch is opened and set aside. The brightly colored Myna pokes her head in, her head coils pushed back in caution. You press the detonator

Jet black tentacles erupt into life. The semi-orgainc device goes straight for the first open orifice it can find; the shocked Mynta’s mouth. A ropy mass wraps around one side of her head and around the other, forcing a tip into a mouth that was trying to cry for help. Instinctively she reaches up to try and protect herself but her hands are wrapped before they’re halfway raised. Unfortunately, the **** of the **** knocks her back out of site, so you can't see the remainder of the spectacle, but to your delight, you can still hear her struggles. Based on the changing tone of her squeals, you assume the tentacles have found her tits and should be working towards the alien herm’s cock next.

“The fuck is that!” squeals the wuss.

“I don’t fucking know. Probably more of the wildlife. Get it off her.”

“MMMMHHGGHKLL!”

“I’m not touching that.”

“MMMNNHH”

“Just cut it off. Unless you want to check for more.” The disgust in her voice is obvious

Just over the Mynta’s cries (the tentacle has probably found her ass by now), you hear them rush down the hall. Someone should be peeking in just about…. now.”

As soon as the female pirate sticks her head in you send a stun bolt down the corridor to drop her. The golden haired beauty will make a nice toy.

“Fuck!” The pussy's pounding thuds retreat into the distance.

What a little bitch. You emerge from the crawlspace into a dimly lit corridor. Someone found an emergency generator. Under pale yellow lights, you admire your handiwork. The Mynta has been encapsulated by the organic weapon, the tentacles pulling on her arms and legs so that she is all balled up. The tie brings her legs to her titties, pressing them like grapes at a vineyard. One tentacle tore through her skimpy tank-top and is teasing an erect nip. Through her tight pants, you can see a cluster of tentacles work her nuts, dick, vag and asshole.

The other pirate is a nice drink of water. Her long legs twitch a little with residual convulsions from the stun bolt and she will recover soon. She wears a deep dark red skin suit that is trying to be body paint and a gracken leather jacket with extra gang patches to let everyone know she’s a badass. Shame you don’t have more time to play with her.

Looking through your supplies makes it apparent that Oo’lick messed with your stuff. While all your weapons are still there, you definitely have fewer restraints on here than when you started. You had at least one tape gun somewhere and all but one set of backup cuffs are missing. You’re down to one pair of smart cuffs, a smart snare, and the last **** collar. Looking back on it, you probably would still have rope if you hadn't given Tamra that breast harness. You think back on how the tie turned her fun bags into swollen mounds. Worth it. Still, with such a limited supply, controlling Bellextra will be difficult. You’ll need to conserve what you have and get creative to restrain this slowly awakening pirate.

Giving the pirate a few stun lashes from your whip to her luscious booty buys you time to find something appropriate. There are miles of data-cables in that shaft that weren’t doing anyone any good. Slicing through some of unused wiring with a vibro knife gives you more chordage than you know what to do with. A loop from her wrists to her ankles is quickly tied in place. Not the most intricate tie you’ve ever done, but you’re on the clock and you have questions to ask.

“Now,” you say flipping the blonde over. “You are going to tell me…. Nothing.” Generally a sentient will recover from a stun blast in five minutes. If you want more time to play with a helpless captive you can always hit them again. You just don’t want to overdo it unless you willing to wait five hours for them to wake up. Based on the puddle of drool the poor bimbo is lying in, you probably over did it. Sloppy work on your part. You stuff her in the maintenance shaft. At least you'll be able to put these shafts to good use.

You consider questioning the Mynta but that’s a lost cause. Her throat is thoroughly occupied by the squirming tentacle. The instinctive programming of the grenade will put up quite a fight trying to follow its throat fuck routines. On the other side of the restrained pirate, there is a shredding noise as the over stressed pants finally give way to the increased volume. The red and yellow striped ass was likely straining the confines of the tight fabric before the thick tentacles wormed their way in and the erection the herm alien is sporting probably didn’t help either. It’s too bad; with the pirate getting triple penetrated and it’s brightly colored pecker being worked to climax, she’d probably say anything you’d want her to. Carefully, so as not to disturb the tentacles (once activated they do not care who they constrict and ****), you shift the unfortunate alien into the shaft. Just as well. You don’t speak Mynta.

With a silence that only comes from years of practice and bare feet you sneak through the door the pirates **** open. There is a long hall, but there, at the very end you see a sliver of blue light, shining through a doorway. Bellextra.

Every so quietly, you stalk down. Intellectually, you know there is no way that she can hear you. But even though the padding of your feet is nonexistent, every footfall beats like a drum in your mind. Is it your imagination or do you see a silhouette moving across the threshold. Closer and closer you march. Your bare skin brushes the cold steel in a subconscious desire to disappear into the ship. A whisp of cool air seers your skin. You don't know if you've ever felt more exposed in your life.

Never mind your footfalls, your heart is beating so fast and so loud she will surely hear it. But still you press forward. You can definitely see her shadow. Almost there. She is grumbling to herself as she tinkers with something. There is a distinctive ratcheting and hum of machines being fitted together and powered on. You press your back against the wall and slide to the door jam, ready to strike. Slowly, you poke your pistol around the doorway.

There is a crack and you pull away, wincing at the sparks that flew from the bulkhead and singed your bare skin. Sigh. It would have been nice to get the drop on her. “I was wondering if you would make it,” your nemesis remarks in the sultry tones of a hungry demon.