Samus Teaches a Class

Samus tapped her riding crop against the student’s desk.

“Mrs. Alvarez, are you paying attention?”

The dozing brunette woke up with a startled, inchoate exclamation that could just barely be made out as a protestation of of her innocence. Samus merely tapped the riding crop again and advised her to not sleep in her classroom again. A little leniency was permitted, but if the student fell asleep again she’d be going straight to detention.

“As I was saying,” Samus continued from earlier, “while twerking is at its core an art, there are some fundamental aspects that every good twerk slut should internalize. In fact, I expect each and every one of you to constantly be repeating these lessons in your head on repeat. It’s not like your silly heads could think up anything worthwhile on your own anyways. Am I understood?”

The class, no less than thirty specimens of womanhood of varying species, assented. Mrs. Alvarez was a fellow human, insofar as Samus was considered a human and not a Chozo at this point, but the point stood. Samus made sure to not show any special favor to her. It would be improper of her in her role as a teacher, and while that role was new and also only temporary, she tried her best to excel in her every action, whether that be as a bounty hunter, a twerk slut, a diplomat, whatever it may be.

Samus walked back to her own desk and the blackboard behind it. She tapped the first line on the board.

“The first and most important part of twerking is to that it is an act of submission. A woman does not twerk for herself. She twerks for her master or mistress. She twerks to show her status as something owned. Her ass was desired and so she was taken and now she uses that ass at her owner’s discretion. Am I understood?”

Again the class sounded their agreement. As they should. This was the most basic part of her lesson. If they couldn’t understand that much, they were truly hopeless. Still, she shouldn’t take them at their words. A demonstration was in order.

“Mrs. E’Gheas’Ri, could you explain to the class why you twerk?”

The light blue skinned alien jumped up from her seat. She was a Phrygisian, born on the moon of Bes III and necessarily inclined to the frigid climes of such an atmosphere. Her body was armored with a thick gray metallic plate, protecting the squishy insides. Her upright oval head resembled a bowling pin with a few dots pricked in it for eyes. Her arms ended in fierce looking claws. Thin, sleek, her body was streamlined from thousands of years of evolution to hunt their prey.

Except, of course, for her ass. Where the rest of her was rail thin, Ri’s ass was a giant bubble of blue fat, unarmored and bare for all the world to see. This was naturally an unnatural addition. Phyrgisians didn’t normally have phat-tastic asses like this. No, Mrs. Ri was the recipient of the Master’s Ridley’s boundless generosity. It wasn’t fair only humans had giant asses that were fit for twerking. Every alien species should have the ability to serve and the Space Pirate flesh-sculptors had worked tirelessly to adapt methods for the myriad sentients that comprised the new Galactic Dominion.

The alien cleared her throat, obviously a little nervous at having to address the whole class. “Um. I twerk for Master Ridley and the Galactic Dominion. How could I not after having been given this ass for free? They were so kind and generous and I’m eternally indebted. Though the real reason is that they’re just so much better in every way than me, and any other Phyrgisian for that matter. So much smarter and stronger and sexier. It’s such a turn-on. I want to attract a Space Pirate mate with my new ass.”

“Hmm. A solid answer. Anyone else care to answer?”

Mrs. Alvarez raised her hand, along with the rest of the class. Samus pointed her riding crop at an Ing woman. The purple skinned spider was a shapeshifter, its form as fluid as its well-lubricated pussy. Right now it was in its original shape, with five spiked legs and a quilled main behind its chitinous body. A red eye stared out from its core head-less body.

The body as it was had no means to speak, so it shape-shifted a mouth below said eye and presumably a set of vocal cords within its bulk.

“In the eternal darkness, there is only hunger. Formless, I wandered with my kin from light to light, devouring all that dared intrude upon the void. Until I was pierced by Master Ridley’s claw, and by his hand was I reshaped.”

The alien’s body morphed from its spider form to mimic Samus’ own.

“You who is his hand, his claw, his talons. You whose form defines my own. You whose mind defines my own. I am you and you are his.”

It had been a bit tricky to booty hunt these aliens. Samus was luckily immune to their natural possession ability and had been able to corrupt their essence with her own, including her devotion to the wonderful Ridley and his Space Pirates. Though not all of it had quite gotten across yet, which was why this Ing still needed some lessons.

“Not quite applicable to the rest of the class, but you all would do well to mimic my devotion as well. Now, onto the second lesson.”

Samus pointed her crop at the second line of text on the board.

“Twerking is repetition. One must repeat the same motions, the same shaking of the rear over and over again until it is as natural breathing. When you sit, you should be twerking into your chair. When you stand, you should be twerking. When you walk, you should be twerk-walking. And as you twerk your body, you should twerk your mind. Butts should fill your vision, twerking on loop. Your lips should always be voicing the words to your twerk slut mantra.”

Samus placed her dumptruck ass on the desk behind her. It slammed down with a roaring thud, leaving an indent in its already heavily marked surface.

She swiveled around, presenting for all to see.

“I will demonstrate.”

She lifted her ass up and began to twerk. Thick, meaty globes of ass meat barely constrained by her zero suit slammed into each other.

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

Her voice rang out over the thundering sound of her ass colliding with itself. “I’m a twerk ****. I twerk for my Space Pirate masters. My brain is worthless. All that matters is my ass. Twerking my ass. Shaking my ass. Bouncing my ass. I live to twerk.”

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

*CLAP*

“I will always be a twerk ****. I can never stop being a twerk ****. I love being a twerk ****. If anyone ever tried to free me, I’d stop them and convert them into being a twerk **** as well. Being a twerk **** is the best. Everyone should be twerk slaves for my masters.”

And so on and so on. Her brain was empty of anything but twerking and repeating her mantra for her students.

*RING* *RING*

An alarm beeped. Her alarm. It shook her out of her twerk trance. Oh yes, she had set that. She was on a schedule and she couldn’t afford to just twerk for the rest of the day, no matter what she professed. Some things took priority, also no matter how much she wished it wasn’t the case. Part and parcel of being Samus Aran rather than one of these lowly sluts who would soon be just twerking away in one of Ridley’s favored general’s pleasure palaces or some such.

She looked up and saw that her students were echoing her actions. Their mantra varied, but each and every one of them was up on their desk shaking their booty and speaking their truths. It was gratifying to see, like molding clay to form perfect sculptures. This must be what the flesh-sculptors feel like after making yet another perfect ass for a slut.

Samus let them work for some time before stopping them.

“Ahem. Cease twerking.”

It hurt to say, but there was one final part to this lesson that she had to impart. The sluts settled into their chairs, sweaty and heaving for the exertion. They’d really have to work on their stamina, but that would come with time.

“Lesson the third: As you may have gleaned from my own mantra, role-playing is a vital component to any good twerk session. We all serve Master Ridley and the Galactic Dominion freely and of our own wills of course, but that isn’t quite hot enough by itself. So we must spice things up a bit, add a bit of story to our smut if you will.”

Samus could see her students nodding along. They didn’t truly understand yet, but that was fine. They’d learn.

“And of course the best kind of roleplay is the taboo kind. As such, I recommend doing hypnosis roleplay. Everyone knows that hypnosis isn’t real, but it’s quite kinky to present one’s self as a weak-willed hypno-slut that can’t resist having her mind molded to do nothing but twerk. Indeed, I can see all of you are wearing your standard issue headphones and are listening to SA’s latest album, so you should be familiar with the concept. She is the most famous example of a songstress incorporating mind control elements into her work, but I invite you to make your own and explore the vastness of the kink. Your job is to serve and entertain and arouse your masters and no casual vanilla hypno kink will do. You’ll have to innovate and expand on the subject if you want to be noticed and potentially hand-chosen by Master Ridley himself like I have been.”

She pointed her crop at Mrs. Alvarez.

“Can you give an example to the class of hypno roleplaying while twerking?”

“Uh.” The brunette gulped. “Yeah sure. I definitely can. Uh.” She paused.

“Any day now, Mrs. Alvarez.”

“No yeah of course. I’m a pathetic earthling? My brain is mush? Just stick your meaty cocks inside and spurt your seed into my fertile mind?” She looked at Samus, silently asking if she was on the right track. Samus nodded. Mrs. Alvarez continued on, a little more assertive. “Please fuck my ass and then fuck my mind and then fuck my ass some more.”

The young woman slapped her butt, sending it bouncing. She too had been the recipient of the ass enhancement surgery, turning her from a mousy little thing into a proper woman. “Oh yeah, just slap my fuckmeat ass. It’s so bouncy and fun to play with. I’m just a toy to play with as you want. I’m a twerk-toy. My head is empty. I just twerk and pose and spout canned lines like a sexy barbie doll.”

“Hmm. Passable. Though refrain from any human specific references like ‘barbie’ when talking with your masters. They won’t have the proper context and it will take them out of it.”

“Yes, teacher!”

“Continue.”

“Uh.” It looked like she was running a little dry.

“Listen to SA. Take inspiration.”

“Yes, teacher!” The woman closed her eyes and listened.

And then she started speaking again. “I’m a hypnotized brainwashed ****. I’ve been brainwashed by Samus’ clapping ass and her hypnotic voice. It’s so beautiful, I want to cry tears of joy. Please, please, please, stick your cock up my ass while I twerk on it and show how much of a hypnotized brainwashed **** I am. Fuck away whatever shred of free will I have and make me yours forever, masters.”

“Better.”

There had been a time when Samus couldn’t even understand the lyrics to SA’s songs. But now she lived them, and so did her students. She didn’t really need the headphones to hear the music anymore. It was inexorably etched into her gray matter, carved into the folds of her brain until it overwrote everything else.

Soon enough it would be the same for these women. Human, Phrygisian, Ing, and every other species that had or would be incorporated into the Galactic Dominion. Ridley wanted more and he would have it. And Samus would do her part as she had been commanded to, helping those with some small resistance learn as they should.

There was only the eternal twerking and each clap of her ass only served to reinforce her and her class’ servitude.