WTF! I am a man

Yes, you certainly are. Sorry, I must have mixed up your narration.

You are Zach Petrov an expert hyperspace mechanic, scoundrel and explorer, not one of those pretentious Federation scientists mind you. They measure their worth in the farthest from home they have been. It's a subtler exploration that attracts you: being the first to an unusual wreck, viewing a pulsar from a new angle, reconnecting with a lost civilization, and probing those ultra sensitive parts of a woman's body.

Currently, you're relaxing in the Captain's cabin of your ship glancing over a report. Through a series of exciting events that need not be discussed now, you came into possession of one of the Human Oo'lick Republic Enclave's (HORE) renowned voyagers. Before its unfortunate yet kinky collapse, the HORE built some of the highest quality star craft and the voyager class was no exception. A perfectly designed ruthenium-laced hull and framework allow the short range explorer to push the already flexible boundaries of hyperspace and has kept the Dasher fast even compared to today's more advanced vessels. Over the year since you literally bumped into the rare vessel, you have patiently customized and upgraded the ship from among the fastest to the fastest.

Deciding not to rely solely on a rather limited bubble shield, you also upgraded the naively weaponless vessel with defensively placed stinger lasers and a pod of three capital-ship-busting double helix torpedoes (who doesn't want a big weapon strapped to your ship, or three for that matter). Each armament was carefully installed to not disturb the speed boost provided by the smooth, ruthenium skin.

"ETA to the Levia-Karak jump point is now 10 minutes," ENNA informs you in a cool voice. You stop reviewing the lab's self-diagnostic report (you recently strained the mechanisms "probing" one of the galaxy's many treasures). ENNA perfectly sculpted face is displayed on the small monitor in your space-efficient cabin. Prompted, you leave your room and saunter towards the cockpit.

Passing through the hollow crew-room, you are reminded just how empty your ship is. Although you are the Dasher's only occupant with a pulse, she can comfortably sleep 4, more than that if they share a bunk or sleep on the floor. Your ship has had other occupants: friends, employees and passengers willing to pay your ridiculous rates. Most recent was Number 26, a sex that you had given to a Gavleth warlord in exchange for permission to travel through his territory slowed hauling your heavy salvage. Not a fair trade but It was for the best; her "needs" were demanding more and more of your attention. And there was no way you could produce enough jizz to satisfy her.

Your fingers slide across the cold metal walls, emerald green but accented by strips of color where a pipe or energy conduit has been built into the wall. A thin layer of dust has collected in some places. 26 had been so happy about being given away in such a token gesture you had cleared her chore list to throw a farewell party.

Upon reaching the cockpit, you key in the commands for an Exit Flip. Most people think ships have to exit hyperspace when they reach a beacon, but with the right energy discharges, the residual hyperspace momentum can be used to instantly send a ship hundreds of miles past a beacon. Its a handy way to get the edge in a fight or drop off a heavy salvage load before boredom drives you completely insane.

Your salvage had been a freighter that made a hasty jump to evade a pirate. Its corporate owners had paid you handsomely to be the first to secure the wreckage. They even agreed to let you keep it's hyper- crystal, the final piece to your perfect hyperdrive. You had found prototype ion difussers and a high precision Maxifier, designed your own chassis and containment field. However, you could not get a better hyper-crystal. So you went bigger. After doing the equivalent of transplanting a horse heart into a mouse, your hyperdrive power had increased significantly. Towing the obliterated ship still made the short trip take much longer than your used to.

"Excellent maneuver, sir," remarks ENNA. You turn to look at the wall sized view screen displaying her virtual space. Your hyperdrive is a work of genius, but the adaptable AI is something truly special. The Electronic Nano-Networked Assistant, was created from an amalgamation of famous scientists to help survey new systems. When she served the previous captain, her digital avatar wore a lab coat over a dress blouse, but with the help of a very pretty slicer, you reprogrammed her interface to be more fun to control.

The statuesque representation of the Oo'lick's best, brightest and sexiest (despite being a bastion of culture and science the HORE had its shallow moments) lays atop a her digital bed in a cyberspace penthouse. Mathematical and programming symbols drip off a body that is tall and slender with just the right amount of curves, her body. Naked as she is represented, the only bit of lavender skin not being shown off is blocked by the soft golden sheet she is rubbing her expectant sex with and her chains. These chains connect her wrists and ankles to each of the bed's posts and allow her significant freedom of movement but can be tightened if need be. They are a visual representation of the restraints put on her programming. It is always a good idea to keep powerful AIs in check even if they have your best intentions at heart. "We are 94.53 miles from the rendezvous," your sexy AI continues in her smooth, feminine voice. "The tow-ship is moving to meet us."

Knowing your eyes are roaming her body the seductress twists, exposing an inner thigh and subtly presenting her heavenly proportioned breasts. "We are ahead of schedule by 3 hours and 42 minutes." A teasingly efficient tongue peaks out and licks her lips. "You said I would receive an orgasm if I charted a path that allowed us to arrive early." Her deep green eyes shifted from you to the dildo floating tantalizingly above her reach.

"I did promise you an orgasm..." you agree but add "if we arrived twelve hours early." Her impossibly perfect features take on a hint of desperation. She doesn't feel pain or pleasure on the same level as organics, but does have a complex punishment/reward system that can be influenced in a similar way.

She shifts to a kneeling position as best she can. The chains her legs to stay spread and keep her arms stretched behind her arched back. Clinging for only the briefest of moments, the piece of cloth she had been rubbing her pussy with glides down to reveal pink folds surrounded by soft lavender skin, twitching with longing. "But didn't the trip seem much shorter because I kept you so entertained?" she questions pleadingly. You shake your head and she looks down, disappointed. She had put on some great shows over the trip but had already been rewarded. You probably shouldn't have put such high expectations on her; even with your unparalleled knowledge of hyperspace, you probably wouldn't have been able to chart a better route. However, you won't go back on your word. You tap the keypad near her display and a flogger lowers itself to her reach.

Your sexy assistant hesitantly takes it. "You shouldn't try to mislead me," you inform her. "Flog your tits."

"Yes, master," she looks sorrowfully at the punishment device. "Thank you, master." Her gratitude is genuine. Even though her artificial consciousness acknowledges that this a punishment, it is still data, which allow her to improve and serve you better in the future. She also has a built in desire to happily serve the Dasher's captain, and your enjoyment of her self discipline displays is easy to see.

Needing more freedom for her arms, ENNA shuffles back as far as the ankle chains let her. She keeps her legs spread and stretched towards her bedposts while one hand cups a tit. ENNA's other hand takes the whip and repeatedly striking her large breast. Over the soft slapping sounds she moans "aah, the tow-ship is, mmhhh, is requesting we-eee hand over the freighter."

"As long as they pay us."

A blinking headset appears on her ear. "Mmm-my master would like to, ahhh, remind you it is payment on, aaah, on delivery."

The rhythmic slapping often followed by a whimper or cry from ENNA makes a refreshing back drop for the otherwise uneventful exchange. The salary men collect their freighter and pay you handsomely for your trouble.

Looking to spend your reward, you pilot your ship closer to Levia-Terus, a massive space station built from a confusing tangle of ships docked or welded together. Your mind filling with the opportunities the most chaotic and bizarre station in the Galaxy has to offer.