Stan Irutian's Epigenetic Adjustment

The tiny moon in distant orbit around Orix-5 didn't even have a name. Unofficially, it was known as Shithole-9. As planet-orbiting rocks go, it was a dime a dozen. Barren, dry and void of life, but full of He-3, U-239 and other materials the Empire considered bread and butter.

It was weekday 4, month 9, year 2314. Or, as 37-year-old Stan Irutian liked to think of it, D-1095. It marked the beginning of his fourth year here, serving time for a minor bar incident back on Aldrin base. With six years to go, there would be no celebration today. Only a quiet sigh in his bunk before the morning shift started.

If Stan would have ever been allowed access to the historical annals of mankind, he might have considered himself lucky. Space mining in the 24th century was, relatively speaking, safe and easy work. It wasn't particularily deadly, and only consisted of supervising the automated mining robots. Nevertheless, it was mandatory, unpaid work. Slavery. For the bloody Empire. And it was boring. Fucking boring.

One point four light-seconds above Orix 5/9, the Quantum Yacht Queen Seleza appeared out of nowhere.

"Fueling station in view, Captain," a soft voice informed.

"On main," another woman replied, and almost instantly, an enhanced view of the boring, natural satellite was displayed on the huge screen.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Captain Joamo muttered to no one in particular, before ordering her subordinates to commence with the landing procedures.

A few minutes later, the tall, pretty brunette was standing outside the large cabin of the ship's de facto commander-in-chief. Even with all her experience, Joamo was nervous every time she knocked on this door.

"Your Highness," she spoke into the incom, "we have arrived at our last checkpoint before Tasim-4".

There was no reply.

"Your Highness?"

Silence.

Serrah Joamo, 29, was in doubt. As War Commander, she had once led a group of battle-hardened, war-tired raid cruisers to an inexplicable victory against an entire Yzikian Battle group. A devastating crush which eventually led to the total collapse of the enemy's upper western flank. Yet as Captain for the private yacht of Princess Yulia, 14th in line for the Galactic Crown, she was terrified of fucking up.

She sighed and pushed the override switch to enter the cabin.

The main room was as big as the galley of the ship, which held the entire crew of 40 women. It was deserted. Captain Joamo searched the adjoining rooms. While most of the ship was sparsely decorated, the Princess' quarters were lavishly sprinkled with luxury. New Earth wine and champagne, conserved with nanotechnology, was lined up on a shelf in one room. Something they called choqulatee in another. The stuff was supposedly "like an orgasm in the mouth". The Captain had experienced many orgasms in the mouth, which she enjoyed to some degree, and thus misunderstood the reference.

In the next rooms, there were silky clothes of all sorts of colors and styles, pillows and soft cushions sprinkled on beds, and gemstones of every kind for the Princess to wear.

In the final room, there was a Princess. There was also one of the young conscripts under the Captain's command. Both females were stark naked, and the Princess was writhing underneath the conscript's tongue. Despite herself, the Captain soon felt her own lady parts moistening as she took in the view. The Princess was spoiled beyond description, and acted in such a way, but there was no doubt that she was gorgeous. Sculpted by the most advanced gene technology before birth, and improved by the most expensive nanotechnology throughout her teens, the 18-year-old girl was a beauty truly unmatched by nature.

Nature had given her best shot, and almost succeeded: The young conscript, similarily aged as the princess, had been blessed by fire-red hair, wide hips and a full ass. The rest of her was obscured from view as she lay on the mattress in between the thighs of Princess Yulia.

Human words could not fairly describe the beauty of the Princess, but the Captain was a sucker for those large, firm tits. Almost impossibly in denial of the ArtGrav aboard the ship, they stood out from her chest as she lay inclined on pillows. Sculpted to perfection, with large nipples the Captain had an urge to suck, they were designed to arouse even the most powerful man in the galaxy.

Her wide-flowing hips and fit belly were adhering to the ideal ratio, known to mankind since the beginning of history, and her thighs were naturally strong and muscular. The Captain could not help but notice that not a single hair grew on her body below the neck, except a delicately designed patch slightly above the spot where the red-haired Private licked tenderly.

After a few moments (or was it minutes, she couldn't say), Cpt Joamo decided to cough gently.

There was no reaction. The Princess kept wriggling under the redhead's treatment, her beautiful face in the most enjoyable agony. Symmetrical beyond the natural, she was flawless. Her thick, red lips formed an O as she moaned higher and higher, and her skin over her high cheekbones began to get a reddish glow.

The Captain could not help but notice how the conscript had reached back to her own juicy slit, probing it with her longest finger. It was hot. Off-duty and invited, Serrah Joamo would have joined the pair without a doubt. But as Captain, she had promised herself to abstain from such activity. It would only lead to trouble.

She wanted to cough again, but realized that she had to wait it out, as the moans grew in intensity. Suddenly, the Princess' deep blue eyes opened wide, and she screamed as she grabbed the head of the private.

"Ooooooh!" she moaned. "Fuuuuck!" she screamed, as she came hard.

The Captain watched from the side as the Princess pulled the redhead up to her for a deep kiss. Her own pussy ached, and she knew she would probably have to do something about it in her own quarters later. She cleared her throat.

"Your Highness, I am very sorry for disturbing you in your quarters, but we have reached the mining station we discussed."

This time, the naked beauty reacted.

"Leave," she told the redhead conscript, who quickly gathered her clothes and disappeared.

"This will be the last stop before the wormhole that will take us to your wedding on Tasim-4." Captain Joamo informed. The Princess took a sip of Champagne.

"Good. Find me a man."