What strings? Everything’s perfectly normal…

Miranda was sitting at her desk doing some work when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she said, and quickly regretted it when the last person in the galaxy she wanted to see strolled through the door looking unusually pleased with herself. Miranda frowned. "I take that back. Get out."

"Well excuse me cheerleader," Jack chuckled. She sauntered forward with her hands behind her back and that same self-satisfied grin on her face. Miranda turned off her terminal, leaned back in her chair, and folded her arms.

"I don't like that look," Miranda said plainly.

"What look?"

"The one that says you know something I don't and I'm not going to like what it is.”

“Oh yeah. Yeah, you’re probably not… Strip.”

Rather than punch a hole through Jack, Miranda stood up and began to undress herself, never breaking eye contact with Jack. She unzipped her jumpsuit, pulling it open and gently thrusting her breasts forward at Jack, bending forward as she pulled the top down to her waist.

“Well?” She asked as her hands continued to move of their own accord. “What is it then?”

“Well I was talking with Shepard about our current arrangements,” her grin continued as Miranda spun around and thrust her ample ass towards her as began to drop her pants, inch by inch. Jack noted the tramp stamp of a barcode and her grin turned into a broad smile.

“Yes?” Miranda insisted as she reached up and loosened her brassiere, looking over her shoulder at Jack with the same suspicious look she wore when she wandered in.

Instead of answering right away, Jack took in the sight of a topless Miranda Lawson and drew in a slow, deliberate breath, watching how her hips swayed as she shook loose her panties and let them drop.

“Well cheerleader,” Jack whistled. “She thinks you’re not pulling your weight around here. Stand at attention.” Miranda’s body went rigid, though her eyes tried to track Jack as she circled around the desk and crept up behind her. “So you’re not going to be second-in-command anymore. I am. Bend over.”

“What?!” Miranda cried, not noticing herself bending over. “This is outrageous!” A jolt of pleasure ran through her body as Jack slapped her bare ass like a bongo drum.

“Don’t worry cheerleader. You’re new job is much more fitting. You’re going to be the ship’s slutty little sex ****.”

“Sex ****?!” Miranda gasped. “You can’t be serious!”

Jack shrugged and gave her another hard slap on the ass. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. Now spread those legs.”

Miranda grunted as her legs parted and she felt her pussy grow wetter with every passing moment. Jack moved closer, leaning forward until her breasts were pressed against Miranda’s back and her lips were inches from her ear.

“Now I’m going to fuck you, cheerleader,” she whispered. “And you’re going to like it, aren’t you?”

“Pfft. Don’t insult me. Of course I am! I’m the ship sex ****. The perfect sex toy. Why wouldn’t I?” She spoke as if it were obvious. As if it had always been. Jack smiled.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t you?”

***

When Jack returned to Shepard’s quarters the next morning, Shepard was sitting at her desk, reviewing hidden camera footage from the night before.

“Well… You seemed to have fun,” she said, smirking.

Jack shrugged. “Hey? What can I say? Those subliminal messages work wonders.”

“Apparently so,” Shepard agreed. “You think she’ll remember any of this?”

“Not a chance. This is like, what, the fifth or sixth time? She’s not going to remember a thing. Bitch doesn’t even realize she’s got a barcode on her ass.”

“Mmm, fair enough,” Shepard drummed her fingers on her warm mug of coffee. “You think we should start prepping the crew?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jack smiled. “Once we soften up their brains and make it second nature to use and **** the cheerleader like she’s a sex toy, then it won’t take them nearly as long to accept being sex toys themselves. Then all we got to do is send them to get all dolled up and bam! I’m telling you Shepard, with all the hot pieces of ass on this ship, we’ll be making a fortune.”

“Can’t believe I let you talk me into making the Normandy a floating brothel,” she turned back to her terminal and leaned forward to do some more work, not noticing the flickering images that appeared for just an instant every few frames. Jack gazed down as Shepard’s shirt pulled up, revealing a barcode tramp stamp just above her ass.

“Dunno. Guess I’ve just got a way with words…”