Intervention has to intervene.

A long, awkward silence settled over Kotone Watanabe’s second-floor bedroom.

It wouldn’t be the first time that happened, not even from these specific conditions. With a cute girl present, staring up at the enormous girth of Kotone’s hard cock. It most assuredly wouldn’t be the last time, either.

She wasn’t looking very smug, though. More ‘deer in the headlights’.

Actually, Kotone and Sovereign were like a pair of deer-headlight hybrids, shining on each other while simultaneously caught in those high-beams and frozen solid.

In Kotone’s case, exceptionally solid.

“For the love of the Gods.”

Intervention couldn’t take this exceptionally pathetic sight. She had to emerge from her hiding spot within the room, past some bright-red floor-length curtains neither girl had noticed in the rush of their passions.

Sovereign’s red eyes went wide. “I-Inty?! What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. I told you how to do it, Sovvy. I told you that the only thing that could stop you is fear of that oversized cock. I suppose a girl like you isn’t capable of listening to my advice, so I have to interfere more blatantly.”

“Y-You really don’t!” Sovereign sprung to her feet in outrage, face now just as red as Kotone’s. Well, nearly. She rounded on the admiral. “You! Tell her to get lost!”

It would have accomplished more to tell Kotone to turn off the sun. Intervention couldn’t help smirking, as the massive beanpole of an admiral turned away, shying from a pair of searching red eyes. She’d had been patiently, relentlessly developed to sit back, bite her tongue, and cum, and cum, and cum so much.

Her natural production never slowed down, so Intervention never saw fit to either.

“Dear, sweet Sovvy. The admiral knows who’s really in charge, and I reward her generously for that understanding. If you want to make sure nobody can ever use you again, there’s only one thing for it. Become the master. Come, get those breasts out, and join us on the bed.”

This was an outcome as dangerous as it was heart-pounding.

Intervention had the skill to use every bit of her own massive breasts. To flood Kotone with endless sensations, and turn the admiral into a pleasure-addicted ****. What could she accomplish with twice as much?

Sovereign had a chest every bit as large, and now that the two were side-by-side, breasts bare before Kotone, kneeling on her bed, comparisons could certainly be made. Clearly, the new cruiser girl wasn’t as experienced as her big sister, in using her chest to wring out seed. Yet they were both similarly busty, with enormous tits spilling out of anything that tried to contain them.

Even their own arms could barely support, but scarcely contain or suppress the heft of huge, pillowy mountains capped by quickly-hardening nipples. Intervention’s were more puffy and large, while Sovereign's were cute pink buttons.

“Lubrication is critically important,” Intervention intoned gravely. “It’s the dividing line between worlds of chafing and enjoyable friction.”

So much so that she always had that bottle of lotion sitting on the nightstand for just such occasions. She poured out twice the normal amount of lotion onto black-gloved hands, and lubed up not only her own cleavage of the pulled-down black and red maid outfit, but that infinite wealth of delight belonging to her sister.

Knowing they weren’t biologically related didn’t reduce the thrill of that sight.

“What separates an amateur from an experienced woman isn’t size, but motion. Your arms are a critical method of exerting control and applying **** in any direction you wish, so use them frequently. Here, let’s press together.”

Getting to watch that was nothing compared to the **** that was a dual paizuri.

Kotone threw her head back, as her cock was surrounded in more breasts than she’d ever thought possible. When she was stuck in the cleavage of Intervention, that meant being sandwiched by warm pressure on either side. Now, she was essentially stuck within two sets of cleavage. It wasn’t two walls of warm, embracing pressure letting her sink in deep and vanish; it was four, doing their best to push in from every cardinal direction and overwhelm mind and dick alike.

Heavenly. Otherworldly, even; something Kotone expected only to experience in her darkest and most private fantasies. Yet here she was, feeling what it was like to be lost in oceans of unspeakable softness. She squeaked like a well-hung mouse.

“Ah… aah~”

“Asking for feedback is essentially pointless,” Intervention smirked. “She’s too far gone for that, but you can still figure out what works particularly well. Come now, don’t fall into the same movement patterns and grow predictable. Make circles with your arms, clockwise, counterclockwise… good girl.”

“I’m just going along with this so I can learn what to do,” Sovereign pouted. “Admiral, is it really… that good?”

“Aaaah! Yes! God yes!”

Under this sustained offensive of pleasure, Kotone shot quickly, often, and with great ****. More than her usual incredible productivity. She surpassed herself in the one area Intervention could truly respect her. Seed came out, churning, pumping forth.

A living firehose; gooey white pancake-batter full of fragrant stamen essence.

There was no way for either fleet woman to get the tip into her mouth, and no desire to, either. This was something they’d both worked for, tiring out their backs, shoulders, arms and necks. Holding them together, squeezing tight, held great appeal.

Plus, it was just more fun and transgressive to lick each other up, getting mouthfuls of seed and giving Kotone one hell of a show in the process.

There was a primal sense of claiming given by covering a girl in a thick layer of cum, much less more than one. The sensation multiplied exponentially; coating one girl was incredible, and two made one feel like a conquering stamen queen of old. Yet, Kotone was not such a queen, by birthright. Except for the equipment, she didn’t even resemble those old, legendary dominant figures.

She was just a clever renewable resource with many uses, and Intervention wasn’t shy about letting Kotone know that. “Come, Admiral. Come for us, come all over us. Come whenever we want you to, and don’t stop until those balls are dry. It’s all you’re good for, so at least do this much. Don’t you dare run out yet.”

It struck Sovereign, who was quick to anger and quicker to insult, that she’d hate being spoken to in such a manner.

Yet Kotone came just that little bit more every time Intervention commanded or berated her. Everyone was different, and humans were particularly difficult to predict or manipulate reliably. Some of them just… got off on that.

Just as I wouldn’t accept her dictating the terms of my life, can I really say the Admiral is wrong if this is how she wants to be treated? If she derives thrill from it?

As proven by the filthy, sordid loads coating both sisters, which they couldn’t all drink and lick up. Much of it remained, soaking into their clothes and hair and coating them with the scent of a well-hung woman. Strings hanging off them, between their mouths, pools forming between ample thighs and breasts.

A sticky mark of ownership… but not of them.

This was the truth reinforced that morning in Kotone’s quarters. The chance to change the nature of their relationship had passed, rejected in favor of endless breasts and endless paizuri.

The cruisers had sailed together in formation to a perfect victory.

Leaving a sperm-tank admiral only good for being wrung out.