Doing that was easier said than done, however...

To say that Oktavia had "designed" the CCV Don't Touch Me would be correct in a purely technical sense- after all, she was the one who chose all of its modules and their placement, connecting them with a network of systems, subsystems, and hallways, all with a central goal in mind.

That goal had nothing to do with efficiency in design. Functionality was a fortunate byproduct of her real goal, and her sensibilities as an engineer. The Don't Touch Me was a wholly-unique, cobbled-together donut of a ship with no official classification, model designation, or serial number. It would be more accurate to say that the ship had "grown" around her, or that it had simply "happened".

There were reasons to want to fly something like the CCV Don't Touch Me. Smugglers, space pirates, and all sorts of less-than-legal entrepreneurs would have loved to get their hands on such a vessel, after all. Bearing such a name, it seemed obvious as to the intent behind it- but in truth, Oktavia's goal had nothing to do with escaping the law or making a profit.

She just wanted to put up as much of a wall between her and the outside world as possible. To build a shell with everything she needed or wanted on the inside, and an incomprehensibly large void of nothing on the outside, where everything she didn't want could exist at a safe distance. Like, say, outside of the furthest possible communications range.

Kelsen had thrown a wrench into that plan by becoming the ship's captain, but it did mean Oktavia didn't have to do any of the talking, and could get a steady supply of snacks, mechanical components, and whatever the hell an "otome game" was. Kel had never asked about her shopping list, nor did he have any intention to.

Finally, he reached the small airlock between his sister's room and the rest of the ship. Internal bulkheads were generally fairly thin and light, only there to keep a seal in the event of a disaster. External ones were thicker and tougher, expecting a harder, longer service life. Oktavia's could probably survive a direct nuclear strike with little more damage than a singe mark, despite the fact that it was, technically speaking, "internal".

Kel caught himself wondering if it was really essential to power that door over certain other things as countless locking systems all slowly fell out of place. Any Captain worth their salt had heard tales in station-side bars of system failures and limp-mode journeys, and all the systems that designers could consider "nonessential"- in truth, he was probably pretty lucky that something more critical hadn't gone out thanks to his little piloting error.

After about a minute-and-a-half long unlocking cycle, the door finally slid open.

Oktavia's room was quite sizeable- far larger than his quarters or Irene's charging station. Then again, it served as her workshop too, and had begun life as a purely terrestrial construction. It's size wasn't entirely unfounded- after all, there was one other significant reason for all that extra space.

Sitting in the center of the dimly-lit mess, a mountain among small hills of scrap components, snack wrappers, and colorful magazines strewn all over, was Oktavia. She was, in every dimension and direction, enormous. Even Irene's literal two-ton ass could only manage to be a close match in terms of size and scale, and even then in only one area. There was nothing close to a contest above.

Where Irene was "modest" in her own words and "flat" by Kel's description, each of Oktavia's enormous breasts were much larger than either sibling's own head. Even though she was turned away from him, they were still plainly visible even from behind- and her thick, plush frame only got wider and more obscene the further down his eyes travelled. She had been hunched over, working on something just out of view, when Kel interrupted her.

"Hey, Sis, you doing alright?"

Having somehow not noticed her own door unlocking and opening with a loud hiss, she let out an ear-piercing squeal of surprise and terror at being softly asked how she was doing. In a furious blur of purple motion seemingly uncharacteristic for such a large entity, Oktavia wheeled about, her glasses gleaming in the dim lighting and giving her purple eyes a sinister-looking glow very similar to Irene's own faintly-glowing backlit lenses.

"That had better be you, Brother! What's the code phrase?"

Oh, yeah, that. Oktavia's defense in the event that her brother actually had a secret evil twin, or a clone, or a shape-snatcher, or... whatever other fancy excuse she could dream up. As Kel opened his mouth to respond, however, his eyes trailed lower... and he promptly lost the ability to speak.

Oktavia was completely topless. In fact, all she was currently wearing was a badly-straining pair of panties, not that Kel could take particular note of anything but his sister's massive, bare breasts. Even in the dim lighting, her pale skin and puffy, huge, light-pink nipples forming stiff peaks at the tips of such massive, doughy mounds stood out, very visibly.

Just thinking of Oktavia had a tendency to make Kelsen's balls feel heavier and more full, idle daydreams leading to a couple of extra rounds with his favorite machine later (sorry, Irene). Visiting her always had that effect- even just a few minutes in her presence was enough to make him noticeably more backed up and less focused, with a tendency to keep thinking about her all day after. Even if he didn't want to openly admit it, least of all to Oktavia herself, she drove him wild.

Plenty of videos on his personal terminal would confirm his taste in extra-busty girls of all types, in gloomy introverts, and, if one could get past his admittedly terrible password, a couple of particularly potent videos involving extra-busty girls of the sister variety. Oktavia was all of those things at once, and it pushed his already medical-grade productivity into furious, intense overproduction that could put any breeding-grade male to shame.

Knowing that he'd have no relief for this leg of the journey had already made him uncomfortably aware of his full balls and rampant productivity- seeing his sister casually topless, paying no mind whatsoever to the fact that she was almost totally nude in front of him, made his grapefruit-sized orbs instantly feel so much heavier, so much more overburdened with dense, thick white seed.

"Code phrase, now!"

Oktavia snapped him to as much attention as he could muster, even if he couldn't tear his eyes away from the heavenly, ponderous sway of her huge, bare breasts.