Distract herself with media

Kira retreated to her sleep pod, needing to cleanse her mind of the cargo bay's clinical horrors. The pod welcomed her with its conforming embrace, sealing her into a private world where she could let her guard down, if only temporarily. She accessed the ship's entertainment system through the interior display, hoping to find something mindless to occupy her thoughts. To her surprise, the library was extensive and current, featuring titles she'd only heard mentioned in conversation. Her finger paused over a series that had generated considerable buzz in the core worlds - "Shatterglass."

She'd heard about it, of course. Everyone had. The series had been temporarily banned by Imperial Censors for its graphic content, specifically its unapologetic portrayal of xenophilic relationships and **** scenarios. The controversy had only fueled its popularity in certain circles. Critics who managed to see it before the ban praised its artistry, its unflinching narrative, its complex characters. The ban had eventually been lifted after substantial edits, but this ship's database appeared to contain the original, uncensored version.

Professional curiosity won out. As an enforcement officer, understanding criminal psychology sometimes meant exposing herself to content that pushed boundaries. The series was set on Eris, a notorious pleasure planet beyond Imperial jurisdiction where every vice had a price and species mixed without restriction. Cultural intelligence often came from unexpected sources.

The first episode introduced Ashe Winters, a human information broker with sharp eyes and sharper instincts, navigating Eris's labyrinthine power structures. The actress portraying her brought a compelling complexity to the role - vulnerability beneath a hardened exterior. When Ashe negotiated with Zeth, a bioluminescent Medusan with tendrils that shifted color with his emotions, Kira felt herself dreading the inevitable sex scene to come.

Their business arrangement predictably evolved into an intimate encounter, with Zeth's glowing appendages wrapping around Ashe's wrists, her waist, sliding beneath her clothing. Kira skipped forward, annoyed at the gratuitous nature of the scene —despite the artistic lighting and composition. She had no interest in watching a human couple with an alien, regardless of how tastefully it was presented.

The second episode shifted perspective entirely, following a genetically modified human named Elias Riven, whose surgical enhancements allowed him to process information at superhuman speeds. The actor's performance was subtly brilliant, conveying Elias's isolation through minute expressions and controlled movements. When he sought information from a six-limbed Canthian named Vex, their transaction similarly devolved into physical intimacy. Kira skipped ahead again, though she noticed that there was, to her surprise, an actual purpose to the encounter, underscoring Elias's **** loneliness and inability to connect with his own kind.

By the third episode, Kira found herself unexpectedly engrossed. This installment centered on Mira Chen, a former imperial scientist hiding on Eris after stealing classified research. The actress brought extraordinary depth to the role, her fear and determination etched in every line of her body. Mira's cautious alliance with Drav, a massive ridge-backed Torian with iridescent scales, evolved with genuine emotional complexity.

When their relationship inevitably turned physical, Kira's finger hesitated over the skip button. The scene was shot with unusual restraint, focusing on emotional connection rather than explicit detail. The camera lingered on Mira's face as she surrendered control, on the wonder and fear in her eyes as she explored something entirely alien. Kira let it play longer than she'd intended before finally skipping ahead, troubled by her own **** to dismiss the scene.

The fourth episode introduced Natara Vale, a smuggler with specialized knowledge of Eris's forgotten places. The performance was captivating - Natara's confident exterior barely concealing layers of trauma and resilience. Kira found herself completely invested as Natara explored an abandoned research facility, unaware of what waited in the darkness.

The episode built tension masterfully as Natara realized something was hunting her through the facility's shadowed corridors. The revelation of her pursuer - a bio-engineered guardian with multiple translucent tentacles and compound eyes that reflected her terrified face - was a showcase of the series' production values.

Natara's capture unfolded with disturbing beauty. Her struggles as tentacles caught her limbs one by one, her clothing systematically removed as the creature examined its prey. The camera didn't shy from her exposed body, from the contrast between human vulnerability and alien purpose as tentacles explored her skin with methodical curiosity.

Kira's finger hovered over the skip button, but remained still. Natara's suspended helplessness created genuine suspense - would she escape? Would the violation be completed? The glistening appendages wrapping around her breasts, sliding between her thighs with clear intent - it was uncomfortable viewing, yet Kira couldn't look away.

Her body responded with unexpected heat. A tightness in her chest, a warmth between her legs that caught her entirely off-guard. She'd always viewed such content with professional detachment or simple disinterest. Yet something about this portrayal - the quality of the filmmaking, the actress's committed performance, the alien otherness of the creature - created a response she couldn't dismiss.

When Natara finally engineered her escape - using the creature's own secretions to slip free and squeezing through a maintenance duct moments before tentacles could penetrate her - Kira felt an uncomfortable mixture of relief and disappointment. The episode continued, but her mind kept returning to images of Natara suspended in the creature's grasp, to the glossy slide of tentacles against human skin.

She paused the playback, disturbed by her reaction. The arousal lingering in her body felt unwelcome, inappropriate. She had always viewed xenophilia with professional neutrality at best, faint disapproval at worst. Her own species had always seemed the logical preference. Yet here she was, undeniably affected by the portrayal of a human woman in the grasp of something utterly alien.

Perhaps it was just artistic manipulation - skillful filmmaking designed to provoke response. Perhaps it was the isolation of space travel, the stress of her mission. Or perhaps it was something about this ship, with its strange atmospheric scent that seemed to intensify certain perceptions. Whatever the cause, she couldn't deny the effect.

She closed the entertainment system, but the images remained vivid in her mind. Natara's body, helpless and exposed. The alien appendages exploring human flesh with methodical curiosity. The line between violation and fascination, between captivity and freedom.

Her hand moved to her thigh, then higher, before she caught herself with a shock of self-awareness.