That was, unfortunately, easier said than done.

Kelsen turned over in his bunk, focusing his blurry vision on the dim red glow of a digital clock face. The only reason it was lit at all was thanks to an internal battery- something Kelsen had been thankful for, in his first few hours of fitful "thinking".

Now, twenty-two hours and some-odd minutes in, Kelsen had half a mind to toss it across the room, as punishment for treason. It dared function, when nothing else in his quarters would- and worse yet, it was doing its job with impeccable accuracy. What felt like ages to the Captain had been, in truth, less than one day. The softly-glowing display was just bright enough to reveal a slowly-growing pile of snack wrappers beside the bed, further twisting the knife.

If the clock was his subordinate, Kelsen would have awarded them a medal before sending them out the airlock.

A powerful, mind-numbingly needy throb from below washed away his thoughts of petty ****, just as it had every other distraction he'd clung to over the past day, and a pitiful whimper escaped past his lips. He idly ran his hand across his raging, ceaselessly-twitching shaft, just as he'd been doing for hours now- an instinctual, if useless, act. Nothing short of blessed relief was going to soothe him, and it was all he could do to make it just the slightest bit more tolerable, to keep it manageable.

It wasn't working. He wasn't even delaying the inevitable. It almost hurt to be so erect, and at a glance, it seriously looked like he'd gained an inch or two from sheer arousal alone. That was nothing compared to his deeply-aching balls, which were now so overloaded that they surpassed even grapefruit in size, and had a weight easily triple what one might expect. He hadn't had it this bad since...

Well, he hadn't had it this bad ever. He'd come close a few times before, but that usually took nearly a week of nonstop natural accumulation. Why was this happening? Why now, with a whole week of endurance ahead of him, was he building up such an unbearable volume of seed in just one day? What could possibly torment him so thoroughly?

Kel howled in frustration, furiously ripping precum-soaked sheets off himself with a feverish, bestial fervor. His hips bucked, and a particularly fat, cloudy dollop of precum formed at the swollen, pink tip of his pulsing shaft. The churn of seed far thicker than cake batter might have been audible if not for the furious pumping of his hand- but none of that mattered. That single cloudy drop was all he could muster on his own.

It should have been enough to leave his mind totally blank, if not worse, but one particular thought stuck in Kelsen's head. The same thought that had been haunting him ever since he started his "thinking session", the one that invaded his mind every time he failed to keep himself focused, or failing that, distracted.

It was the answer to his question, and the thing that made him so unfathomably **** to unload such an absurd quantity of seed.

This whole time, he'd been thinking of Oktavia. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the sheer absurdity of her plush figure, the obscene heft of her bare breasts visible from any angle, the way her hips were so wide that it made her waist look narrow by comparison- and all of that was before the shameless fantasizing about what he wanted to do with those unreasonable curves.

He couldn't bear another cycle. Lust-crazed and backed up to his limit, every stray image his mind conjured up drove him closer to actual madness. Tears formed in Kelsen's eyes as he summoned up the last of his willpower, forcing back the wave of mania that threatened to overtake his mind completely.

Even just the act of standing on his own two feet required conscious focus- but it was focus that tore his mind away from the ever-worsening ache of his overloaded balls, or the rampant throbbing of his dripping, engorged cock, and gave him the momentum he needed to keep going. With considerable effort, he cleared both his mind and his vision.

He was the Captain, after all. When no one else could solve a problem on this ship, it was his job to step in and find a solution. When it wasn't something he could solve, it was the Captain's job to delegate it to someone who could- to issue an Order.

It was his duty to issue that order, and it was hers to fulfill it. Irene was always going on about that, acting as the very image of subservience despite her duplicitous, maliciously-compliant nature. It took being on the brink of madness to understand her methodology, which... yeah, that was Irene all right.

Kelsen had a few orders in mind for her two-ton ass, too, come to think of it. It was one thing for him to effectively hand the Captainship over to his sister through his own faults, but it was another entirely to tolerate Irene's casual insubordination and undermining. Where the edge of mania had once been, Captain Kelsen was now as full of determination as he was lust.

When he reached the imposing airlock between his sister and the rest of the ship, he simply thumbed in an override code on the console to open it. Once again, the hissing of an airlock bulkhead sliding open filled his ears, and he took a confident step into his sister's dimly-lit atelier.

Thankfully, Irene was also present. That would make this a lot easier.

"Good, you're both here. Oktavia, Irene, I'll make this quick. Recent pressing issues have made it abundantly clear that my... uh, captain-ing, has left a lot to be desired."

If anyone asked, Kel was going to blame Oktavia for his delivery of that line. Out of the corner of his eye, he could tell that she was still completely topless, and it took considerable effort not to look directly at her again. If he did, he'd lose what little control he still had, his final bit of concentration and willpower breaking under the strain of Oktavia’s extra-wide frame. Not a bad way to go, but he still had an order to issue.

"That said, we can address those desires... after you two have addressed mine."

Irene huffed.

"That's all well and good, but couldn't you have shown up a little sooner? I bet good credits you would show up three minutes earlier."

Yep, that was it. Kel didn't need self-control where he was going, not anymore. He only had one more decision left to make.