Part 7: A rough night

With Bre gone, Jane's torment was lessened, but not by much. The crew pawed and pinched her naked flesh with much delight, commenting on her like prime steak. The ship's XO, Pendergast, took charge and had her serving drinks to the rowdy crew. They spanked her each time she walked past and laughed maliciously when a surprise clit rub made her drop the tray. Even while she crawled to clean up her spill, Jane was not safe from the groping and mauling.

No one actually fucked her holes, but plenty of people joked about it. Smith mentioned something about Whyn and a special insertion planned for Jane later. Others laughed about wanting to share her like a fuck tube. Jane was torn. Part of her was glad to keep this tiny shred of dignity, but hot desire writhed within her, a raw want for the debauchery of being nothing more than a toy for her crew. The anticipation and denial proved to be an effective ****, amplified by the sea of roaming hands and cutting words surrounding her.

Releasing her enema publicly would have been the most humiliating moment of Jane's night, if she hadn't been told to give the crew a cucumber show that they most likely filmed. Cumming with a vegetable up her pussy and her legs tucked to her tits was so embarrassing that the crew insisted she do it again. The two orgasms did little to quench the tingle of longing in her loins and only really served to make eating her masturbation aid all the more degrading.

After an eternity of similarly demeaning events, the supply of catcallers and fondlers started to dwindle. The last of the crew to leave chained her collar to a table leg with a pair of handcuffs. They then locked her wrists behind her back with another pair before giving her a few goodnight slaps.

The bound woman was left alone with only the smell of cum and her own arousal. Jane knew the **** would start up again in a few hours. Bre had said something about making breakfast and the huddled woman doubted she'd even be given an apron to wear. She needed to get some sleep, but the night's events echoed in her mind like a nightmare. She had given everything to the Federation Military: vacations skipped, relationships abandoned. Before today, her sexual encounters could've been counted on one hand, with most of her exploration being a quick clit rubbing between crises.

The Navy was her family, and they had just gleefully humiliated her. A particular comment, "from **** driver to ****," remained seared in her mind like a brand. Where had this resentment come from? Had she been pushing the crew too hard in her attempts to get promoted? It wasn't for selfish reasons, she reminded herself. The Commander had truly thought she could do more good without the mire of red tape that plagued the lower levels of the military, but if she had turned her crew against her so easily, without even knowing... She hadn't felt this alone since boot camp.

A kick to the ribs made Jane jolt up as much as the short chain would allow. Above her, the notorious crime-lord, Robert Lance, sneered down at her. "I killed you," Jane cried out in surprise and anger, her gag apparently gone.

"Did ya now?" the cybernetically enhanced psycho asked through a grin of metal fangs. He looked even more nightmarish than Jane remembered. "Hun, could a dead man do this?" He pounced on Jane and rolled her onto her back. Muscular arms, augmented with thin wires like electronic veins, allowed him to toss her around like a cat with a mouse. Grunting and wiggling was all Jane could do as the demon sat on her chest paralyzing her cuffed hands beneath her. "I seem to remember you helplessly plinking away at my shields until Adrien took them down. Guns or fists you could never actually take me one-on-one." He shook his head in disgust. "A leader that needs her troops to come save her. Now most of your crew works for me, and my boys are taking care of the rest. Whose going to save you from the Iollian **** display I'll leave you shackled up to in some shitty smuggler bar?"

How did he get on board-AHH! Jane's thoughts quickly got side tracked as his hands started to mash her breasts. "You're going to need some bigger jugs sweetie. The crowd likes to sees big udders shake during those full body shocks." He opened up a pouch and produced a terrifying hypodermic needle. "Don't know why you didn't have this done sooner. Even Wynn has a bigger set. Speaking of, wanna hear my plans for that chocolate treat."

"If you touch her, I swear--AAAAAIIIIIEEE."

The tip of the syringe stabbed into Jane's left breast, cutting her off. "Touch her? No, Not unless she begs real good. See I'll let the whore pay your ransom. 1 credit for each cock she takes up the ass." There was another blinding flash of pain as Jane's right breast was injected as well. The pain lingered as a dull ache that burned its way through her tits. Wide eyed Jane stared down at her tortured breasts. Were they growing?

Lance confirmed that the size of Jane's funbags was increasing as his powerful hands clamped down on them leaving plenty of soft flesh to balloon between his thick fingers. "Better," snarled the crime-boss, "can't wait to see rope biting into 'em." Jane could only mewl and tremble beneath him; her breasts had become exceptionally sensitive, and his crushing grip was excruciating "Don't worry. I won't free you no matter what the anal whore does. I just won't tell her that until she's pleaded for a few thousand rectum reamings."

Rage, far more intense than the frustration felt at her own helplessness, electrified Jane's nerves. The expert soldier hammered her knee into Lance's groin. She immediately followed the immobilizing blow by pitching left to throw the groaning gangster off of her then rolling right to get some distance. Her collar attempted to hold her back, but with a snap, the table leg she was anchored to gave way.

The crotch strike was a devastating blow. Even with her hands cuffed, Jane was able to flounder to her feet before Lance could rise, but rising he was. The haunting visage from her past grew until it loomed like a revenant conjured by her own fears. Jane was no match for him (she'd known that fact even before he'd said it), but maybe she could save others whose fate wasn't sealed. Swallowing hard, Jane turned and ran.

The bound woman moved as quickly as she dared into the darkness. Her boobs were now the size of grapefruits, but had thankfully stopped growing. Their increased size, however, still made running painful; they jiggled and smacked into each other repeatedly as she stumbled forward. Jane thought she knew The Pale Horse very well, but in the inky blackness, features swam around her in surreal traces.

The thousand thoughts circling Jane's brain made her feel like she was running in slow motion. She had to help the crew that still hadn't betrayed her and warn someone that Lance had taken control of her ship. Almost subconsciously, Jane sluggishly stepped into the communications center. Of course, she realized, this room had a direct link to her handlers on the Military Oversight Committee. In the near midnight darkness and with her hands cuffed It took some fumbling, but Jane was able to initiate a connection.

Over the next minute, the three bureaucrats that just loved questioning her every decision shimmered into view. The Commander felt crippling dread at having to ask them for help, but it had to be done.

"Well, if it isn't our least favorite commander," the middle blob said as it morphed into the humanoid shape of a blue-skinned Oo'lick, Dr. Snerlh. He permed the slicked back feathers his race had atop their head in place of hair before adding, "I see her incompetence has extended into her ability to dress." Jane desperately tried to wrap her hands around her newly endowed chest, but her handcuffs wouldn't let her.

The robotic voice of Kkeok's translator was next to speak. "With disdain: perhaps the Three-Hole has shown us her enlarged udders to justify a resignation. I can't imagine a soldier functioning with such weight." The blob representing the Berek didn't change much as the hologram sharpened. It just became crisper until Jane could make out the wrinkles across Kkeok's body. "She would be better suited in the establishments of Wolf III, serving drinks and servicing genitals."

"Don't be too hasty," chimed in the final official, a human woman named Clara Well. "With her ridiculous rack the former commander can function as a welcome whore at the embassy. We'd have to hang a sign saying freak slut around her neck, so as to not color the newer aliens' opinions."

Shame made desire flutter in Jane's loins. "P-please," she stammered, "Robert Lance has taken control of my ship."

"Explaining to the stupid: Robert Lance is dead."

"No, I swear, he's here."

"If that were true," Dr. Snerlh replied dubiously, while absently adjusting his jacket, "then the diplomatic incident you caused storming his complex was completely useless,"

"Yes," agreed Jane as she stared at the floor. "I'm sorry, but--"

Clara's smug expression showed a hint of arousal. "It's good that the supposed commander has changed her attitude. Remember how rudely she ignored our advisement before that ridiculous attack on King's breach." A sadistic twinkle sparkled in the woman's eye. "And then she has the audacity to flaunt the award she got from forcing her crew through that reckless plan, waving it in our face like it's a cock. Well, I think it's high time she showed us what she does with cocks."

"Seconded," the Oo'lick politician smirked, "pick your precious award up for us, but use your mouth like you do for those hundred or so dildos we know you keep in your cabin."

Jane stared at the ground to not show her gritted teeth. It was humiliating enough that she was going to beg these scheming buffoons to subdue her own ship, but this was almost unbearable. Couldn't they see the bigger picture for just one moment.

The foot-tall figurine had been molded after her, a slender federation officer standing straight and dignified. Jane felt a familiar ache as she opened her mouth wide. She took the statuette into her mouth, her lips sliding past the breasts, and prepared to lift it. But the bronze statuette was a little heavier than she realized, and her lips couldn't get enough of a grip on its smooth features. She had to dip her head deeper until the statuette was pressing against her throat. The reflex to cough and gag fought against Jane as she struggled to keep her weak hold on the phallic object. Like a dog playing fetch, she returned to the Committee, the girth of her reward nestling between her massive tits.

"Good girl," Clara chided while sliding a hand under her pencil skirt. "Place your dildo on the floor. And show us what a slut such as yourself loves to do."

Jane gently put it down. With her mouth free, she thought for a moment about denying that she was a slut, but that would waste too much time. Or worse, the committee would easily convince her of her own debaucherous needs (dampness could already be felt between her legs). If she stayed silent, Jane knew she could at least pretend the idea of cramming her cunt wasn't appealing. Kneeling with her legs on either side of the statuette, she lowered her snatch onto it. Things would have been easier if her hands were free and able to spread her pussy; as it was, she had to rub her labia on the prized award to get it between them. A whimper of pleasure slipped between Jane's lips as she descended. The walls of her vagina pressed tightly against the statue, and she could feel every curve of the female figurine from the gentle breasts, to the smooth stomach, and the slight flare of the hips.

Enlarged bosom rising and falling with heavy breathes, the horny officer slid herself up her improvised dildo. Wet strings of her lubricant dangled from the bronze surface of her prestigious trophy.

Clara scoffed unimpressed. "Your punishment isn't to make love to it. Fuck that like a bitch in heat."

Kkeok's ovular body rippled and clapped with excitement. "Intending insult:" his monotone translator spoke, "hard and deep. Your oversized orbs should smack you in the face."

Swallowing the last crumbs of her pride, Jane thrust herself deeper onto the award she'd been so proud to receive. Spasms of pain shot up her body, as her pussy was stretched by a thick shaft. "Please s-sirs and ah ma'am," she stammered between moans. "Will you send a security detail to help me?"

"Such an entitled cunt." The scowling Oo'lick crossed his arms. "You still have a lot to learn about respect. Speaking of which, remember all those times you cut the transmission blaming it on poor reception."

Jane nodded, looking pleadingly at the smug bureaucrat's hologram, wondering what punishment she would have to endure for that. They had her on a leash and they knew it.

"Good," he stated simply, "then this shouldn't be a surprise." He flipped a switch and the hologram disappeared. The room was thrown into darkness with only the "transmission cut" message blinking on the console.

After the initial shock, Jane hung her head in defeat while slowly slurping herself off her statuette. The belittled officer meekly stood, wondering what more she could possibly do. She didn't have time to dwell before the rhythmic tap of boots approached the door behind her.

"There you are," Bre spoke in her usual hoarse way.

Jane spun and in desperation fell to her knees in front of the mercenary. "Bre," she begged, "Robert Lance is back."

"I know, I know," Bre replied with a slight chuckle. "And don't worry we won't let him sell you to the Iollian's." Jane looked up in relief, but cruel tones slipped into Bre's grin. "No, the crew and I already picked out a brothel to sell you to." Her expression took on a sour note. "We probably won't get as much since you just made your cunt too loose for half their clients to enjoy. Oh well, those freaks will still have plenty of fun ruining your other holes and abusing the rest of your body."

Eyes wide with fear, Jane tried to pull herself away, but Bre grabbed her by the collar.

The sadistic woman pulled rummaged in her pockets with her other hand. "Speaking of, I think I'll make your tongue longer," she cackled, "I want you to be able to get all the way up my ass."

Jane awoke thrashing, tugging painfully against her collar. Cold sweat formed a thin sheen across her naked body. It was just a dream she told herself while trying to control her panicked breaths. Still being chained to the table leg didn't seem that bad to Jane now. She looked at her breasts; they were still modest mounds. The image of Robert Lance's perforated, lifeless body was clear in her mind; there was no way he'd be a threat to anyone. And her crew... And the crew was still loyal to the Federation.

The dream had brought facts to the forefront of Jane's mind. Mainly that she was a fraud, some blustering leader that only succeeded because of a talented crew. They were the real heroes, not her. Jane wiggled her way closer to the table leg she was shackled to and curled up as best she could. After this mission was over, she'd resign and let a more deserving officer take control of The Pale Horse.

It took some time, but Jane managed to fall back to sleep.