Sisterly squabbles; Rosie's Story

(The previous chapter has been heavily expanded.)

As her owners were in their shower. The Egaz **** girl named Rosie was focused so deeply on her design work that she did not hear the chime for evening rations. The red skinned xeno would have worked right through supper and gone hungry for the evening had Arwen not noticed the small four eyed girl buried in her tablet working furiously with a stylus gripped in her two thumbed hand.

“Hey little hobbit.” Rosie felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Arwen smiling at her. “Brains need calories too.” The Dranza said. “I do not want you to be in the back of the line again.” The red headed pet extended her hand to the smaller **** girl.

Rosie put her tablet down and hurried to get into the queue as fast as her little legs could take her. The Egaz girl saw the different cliques breaking up and getting in line for their second and final daily meal. The six sensual sweaty **** girls of the dance troupe assembled at the front of the line to receive their extra ration. Their bodies that really showed off the results of the extra training they were put through on top of the required yoga and calisthenics.

As she stood in line **** to look at one of the Schar slut’s ass, Rosie could not help but think about all of the things that she missed from her old life. Not that she was ungrateful, being enslaved by the humans was the best thing that ever happened to her, she felt so fulfilled serving The Master Race. Despite that, Rosie missed having privacy.

Rosie used to spend countless hours working by herself keeping her ship working. She would go for multiple cycles without even bothering to nourish or hydrate sometimes when she was electron-beam focused on a tricky plasma coil repair or when a gravity fold required a custom hardware patch for an eccentric A.I.. Rosie would find a meditative bliss whenever she had the chance to go exo and put on a hardvac suit for a repair on the external systems.

Thinking of her old vac suit made Rosie think about how much she missed clothes. Egaz were a utilitarian people who valued practicality. Rosie like all her people favored coveralls, jumpsuits, utility harnesses, and their prized beloved armored vacsuits. Clothing which left everything to the imagination. When they had captured her and her children, the Vyraxis warriors had torn their clothes off before corralling them into the holding cells. They stood there for hours pressed together with the other captives high and tripping on NOXET as they waited for the humans to rework their bodies into forms more pleasing and useful to their new masters.

Since then she had learned to appreciate that for a domesticated xeno like herself, clothing was the exception. The only “clothing” Rosie wore on any regular basis was a skirt that consisted of two pieces of sheer fabric with owners’ names printed on it with her ID glyph held together by a chain. The same thing most slaves wore regardless of their sex. Rosie did not count her jewelry as clothing. The Egaz still did not quite understand what all the different bands and bangles were meant to signal but she knew enough to know that her collar signaled that she was not disposable, her armlet designated her as a whore, and she was pretty sure that the left bracelet with the right anklet meant that she was wild caught and untrained, but she was not sure and had learned that asking questions would get her punished.

As she got to the front of the line and was served her bowl of amino-goo with a starch bar, Rosie could not help but miss food. Egaz cuisine was not exactly famous, but it was comforting, hearty, and always made with care and love. “Any food will nourish the body, but only good food will nourish the soul” Her grandmother would tell her when she was a little girl.

Rosie had heard that some xenos will be allowed to eat the scraps from their owner’s table or even have access to replicated food. But as far as Rosie could tell, those were just stories. After she had been humanized and placed in a stable cell aboard the Federation Navy ship, her owners had placed her on an all Dranza larvae diet. The disgusting putrid taste of the grub’s innards had made the Egaz vomit, a transgression for which the **** had been punished severely with **** by chemicals. It took three days of starvation before Rosie could bring herself to rip the larvae’s head off and guzzle down its yellow-green guts. The memories of those days in darkness never knowing when the lights would spring on to signal that a master had come to fuck her. When Master Amandla had taken Rosie as part of zer spoils, the Egaz had been nervous, only knowing the transcendent human as a demanding and domineering lover. Rosie was thankful to discover that she would not have to eat maggot juice anymore. As much as Rosie preferred bland to wretched, it would be nice if they could have some spices every now and again.

The thing Rosie missed the most was feeling tall. Egaz were an insular people who had little social interactions outside of their own kind. Though she would occasionally see the other species that occupied her ship, it was rare and only in passing. Rosie had been considered to be a strikingly tall female for her kind. But as the only Egaz among her owners’ harem, she was by far the shortest xeno-cunt that Sydney and Amandla owned. Rosie felt this particularly sharply as she saw Sansa and her clique were messing with Rosie’s tablet.

The Anaareal slut was holding Rosie’s stylus and doodling on the Egaz’s schematics as the Knavar bitch and her Ligreon skank of a sidekick were looking on in amusement. “What are you doing!?!” Rosie said. The Egaz tried to grab the tablet out of Sansa’s hands, but the taller woman simply held the device out of reach.

“I was just making your drawing look pretty. See?” Rosie looked on in horror as her equations had been ruined, all of the three were now hearts, here sevens had become faces and she could not tell the sixes from the nines with all of them looking like hearts.

“Do you know what you have done? It is going to take me hours to rework those equations.” Rosie said.

“Exactly. Hours. Wasted. That is what you have been doing. Wasting countless hours of our Masters time on this useless doodling.” Before Rosie could explain that it was not useless but were designs for weapons, shields, and thrust systems for SERAPH powered war mechs, Sansa raised her hand and cut her off. “You are not here for your brain. You are a concubine. You are here to be pretty, to smile, to paint pretty pictures and sing pretty songs. You should be focusing on your purpose, not wasting our master’s time on things that are not going to see the light of day.” The Anaareel smiled and grew aroused. Rosie had to step out of the way to avoid the penis that seemed to sprout suddenly from the xeno-cunt. “Why don’t we start with some remedial cock sucking. Neytiri.” At the mention of her name, an Amarlean grabbed Rosie and pushed her lips onto the tip of her friend’s cock. “Go on. Suck on me like you would a human. Show me how you would give Master Amandla a blowjob.”

“No!” Rosie cried out as she struggled to get away. The small xeno began to cry as she thought about how much she missed her husbands, their other wives, and all of their children their communal family had produced.

“That is enough.” Rosie heard Zhalha say before everything went crazy. Rosie felt herself go flying. Time seemed to slow down as her thoughts caught up with the situation. Zhalha had elbowed the big blue fish-girl out of the way and tossed Rosie across the room. Rosie was flying away from the four armed dragoness with an excellent angle to watch Sansa’s Knavar and Ligreon flunkies try to pounce on Zhalha only to get caught in mid air. Sansa screamed and backed away which drew the attention of anyone who was not already watching. With two arms occupied, Zhalha and Neytiri were going at it. Between her wings and using the other two girls as living shields, the Amarlean was unable to land a clean blow. Neytiri reared up onto her tail and was ready to crash down on her opponent when the owners came in and broke up the fight.

Rosie scrambled into her place in line. Though the idea of Sansa getting her neurons rewired brought a smile to her face, the threat of Vyraxis dominatrixes taking charge of their lives was enough to send a shiver down everyone’s spine. The last thing anyone wanted was for one of those nymphomaniacal sadists to be put in charge of the harem.

As the blonde transcendent’s gaze fell on the Egaz, Rosie felt her skin grow warm as her legs began to feel that wet gushy feeling that she had learned was arousal. “How many Terran-standard years were you when Mankind domesticated you?” Sydney asked the xeno-dwarf. Rosie felt the warm hard flesh of her owner’s font rubbing against her cheek.

“Two hundred and fourteen. Master.” The Egaz answered.

“And how many years have you known your place and served your purpose?” Rosie let out a mewling pur as the massive phallus toyed with her lips.

“Three years. Three years since my ship was boarded and its crew converted.” The Egaz answered.

“Just marvelous.” Sydney said. With a gesture, Rosie’s owner commanded the **** to prepare herself.

Zhalha and Rosie had their bodies slathered in oil and glitter by some of the ship’s Dranza as their bosoms were fitted with anti-gravity bras that showed off Rosie’s ample cleavage. The Egaz admired the braid that the Garex girl got to wear, wishing that she could have her hair in anything other than the pigtails she had been styled in.

After the Dranza had finished their work, the A.I.s in Zhalha and Rosie’s collars extended their leashes into the hands of the slaves’ owners. The two humans and two xenos walked towards their quarters’s teleportal where Valyria was waiting for them with a steaming hot lasagna. The Symix handed Amandla the pasta dish as she merged herself into and onto her owner. The sight of the slime creature bonding with the human gave Rosie the creeps.

As the teleportal opened showing Rosie the shimmering image of a pastoral paradise with frollicking xenos clad in gold and gossamer, Rosie wondered what sort of master the ship’s captain was. Based on studying the schematics of his Seraphim, the **** girl imagined James Fujiwara was a man who’s apparent ferocity and displays of overwhelming strength hid a subtle grace that lent itself to making the young lord a man capable of wielding the kind of real power that can build empires. “I would not mind calibrating his flux nodes.” Rosie whispered to herself.

“What was that?” Amandla asked, giving the Egaz girl’s leash a tug.

“I said. ‘Blessed is the **** that serves Man.’” Rosie hoped that the scripture quote would satisfy her owner.

“Oh don’t worry sweetie.” Sydney said. “With your sister performing in the Sacracution, there will be plenty of serving for you to do.” Zhe said before the first officer and Zhalha passed through the portal.