Someday's Kinky Trash

The clicking of the tape measure echoed out over the city. Two triangular districts, dense with low-level apartments and business districts enough to support 10 million residents, were trimmed and measured with a calculated precision under the gaze of a laser-cutter.

“Now, stop blowing up my messages, folks. I know. This is highly unusual for me, too.” Nina purred, trying not to sound nervous as she finished her geometric work over the tiny humans’ settlement.

“But, there’s no reason to be upset. I don’t have approval for this project, but once the results are finalized, I’m utterly certain the utility will be apparent. This is just a singular awkward moment of uncertainty before a revolution for urban planning and human-alien relations. Or, well, Sellans-Me relations, at very least. So – just to summarize once more.”

“My name is Nina Tenpenny! I am a Gamslug.” She stood back, letting everyone who’d chosen to be outside get a look at her body. She was a smooth, quadrupedal alien, with a large thick tail, and sleek but chunky legs. Her skin had something of a glazed look about it, like pottery or a cinnamon roll. Heat radiated from her body somewhat, and her star-shaped eyes had dark sclera and bright white pupils. Her smile was friendly, but authoritative, and seemed to hide mischief. The slug-beast of a kaiju kept smirking and bouncing on her hind legs’ heels, causing her haunches to jiggle and the ground beneath the humans on her table to quiver.

“As you can see, you humans still haven’t recovered your size. The wormhole research project’s going quite slowly! You’re still microscopic by quite a worrying margin, which makes keeping track of your settlements a bit difficult, and always slows the bureaucratic approval of new colonies. Annoying for the Collective’s bureaucrats and you in equal measure, I assume. So, what if there was a low-rent alternative option? A way for you to create a ton of extra settlements on the cheap, with virtually no approval process needed whatsoever?”

“Enter, the High-Density Housing Bodily-Suspended Form-Fit Microsettlement Station. If that’s too much of a mouthful, feel free to call it the Megalopolis Thong. 9 million humans can fit on both sides' interior, and it’ll conform to the body of your host. Which, in this case, is me!”

A din of chaotic chatter erupted from the city.

“Right, anyway, like I said, I don’t exactly have approval for this project, so I’ll need to collect the data on it right away. I’d say I’m sorry, but that would imply this is anything other than a cool project that will vastly improve inter-district communication and relationships between your species and everyone else in the Collective. So, no complaining!”

With that, she snatched the skimpy panty-surface on which the city lay off the table with a forepaw, lazily and carelessly tossing herself onto her couch and tying the waistband strings. Buildings hung from the fabric. It wasn’t just silk or cotton – it was a weave of wire and dense nanocables stronger than steel. Flexible, durable, and they could conduct a gravity field. So despite being variably upside down, the humans in the city nevertheless didn’t have to worry about falling out. Not that it stopped the panic any, especially when Nina held their multiple square miles of dense urban housing in her pawfingers with a trembling enthusiasm. She was practically drooling as she slipped her hind paws into her new underwear, the humans not even having a moment to scream at their new sky before it rushed into place. The western side of the metropolis now had a sky of dark alien vulva, while the eastern end had a sky that was oppressed by Nina’s massive asscheeks.

“Hm.” Nina murmured, reaching over to her nearby console and nearly falling out of her seat on the couch. Stretching and grabbing a small remote. She held it to her face, punching a couple buttons as she did.

“Let’s try…70% tighter.”

Instantly, the network of fibers forming the foundation of the urban prison cinched closer, pulling the skyline higher and closer against Nina’s body. The tips of the tallest skyscrapers brushed the lowest corners of her outer vulva. The eastern side rose into a hill shape as the center of downtown was tugged between Nina’s buttocks.

“Hm. That’s not enough. 70% more.”

The tips of radio spires and the top floors of skyscrapers were pulled into a hug against the soft, pillowy layers of Nina’s outer pussy. The eastern side was pulled further into a wedgie, with easily a third of town pressed into Nina’s cheeks.

There was a decided, purposeful and agitated growl to Nina’s words now as she hit the buttons again. “No…no no no. This isn’t what I envisioned in terms of security… Let’s try 160% tighter.”

With a lurch, a quick quake rippled through the ground of the city, all of the buildings trembling for a moment. Nina’s crotch lowered further, swallowing the tips of mid-rises and pressing with concerning, creaking weight upon the largest and most packed buildings. A thick, semitransparent fluid slowly pooled in street-width droplets on the windows of those structures that were in contact with Nina’s labia. A salty tang hung in the air. This was also the case for the back, where the whole district was tugged between, brought into tight contact along the surface of Nina’s ass. Sweat slowly pooled at every point where the buildings were butt-scrapers.

“280% tighter. Come on…”

Anything over two stories tall was quickly risen by a groaning tug into very, very close contact with Nina’s crotch. Her sweat flooded down windows, drops meeting the street with loud, wet THWAPS. The sheer number of contact points with Nina’s slit meant small gaps between buildings were now holding her open somewhat, only serving to accelerate just how much of the city’s third dimension was entirely swallowed in the Gamslug’s lips. The district beneath her butt was folded entirely in half, wedged entirely between Nina’s asscheeks, and beginning to fold over itself even more as its center pressed against her pucker.

“Ugh…urghhh…This is too slow…Where are we right now? 640%... This is such a bother. I can’t afford to waste so much time dealing with this adjustment process all afternoon. Let’s just hurry it up and jump to 1380…no, 16100%.”

The creaking of fibers came to a raucous crescendo, as the foundations of fabric strained to meet the intense demand of their creator. Streets cracked as the ground beneath them bucked into as tight a form as possible. Within a second, Nina’s cunt fell from the sky like a meteor, impacting the city’s streets with enough force to shatter any roads that were still intact. Every single last building in the city was now bending at an angle as Nina’s thick curtains leaned against their glass windows and filled the sidewalks. Pools and tubs of crotch sweat and rivulets of her inner fluids ran down and into every available corner, practically submerging anything out of doors. Virtually the entire thongfront was swallowed in Nina’s sweaty cunt. The entire urban sprawl was damaged and compromised to irreconcilable degrees beneath the irresistible weight of a cameltoe.

Which is to say nothing of the unfortunate passengers in the back; it was now impossible to tell Nina was even wearing anything when looking at her from behind. The strings and surface had been entirely swallowed, each and every square inch of fabric was bunched up and packed against Nina’s pucker. To escape was a promise of relative miles fighting through thick, sweaty cheeks to even get a glimpse of the light outside of Nina’s ass. Her forepaw came to tug it out of her ass, and the residents, in stunned silence, braced for impact when her digit let go, the entire city launching with the force of a slingshot back against Nina’s cheeks with a loud, booming SNAP. Several of the tallest structures took the impact, crumpling instantly and thankfully sparing the rest of the buildings the same fate. The sheer g forces involved momentarily overcame the gravity of the fabric, making the humans jump almost a dozen feet into the air on impact. Not that the effort of tugging out her thong from her fat butt was worth any of the tremendous effort, as in less than two seconds, the fabric began to bunch again, sliding and tugging itself back between her sweaty thighs. It was back to being a labyrinthine mess of tightly bunched streets jammed against Nina’s pucker all without her even moving in the blink of an eye, and sauna-hot ass sweat was quick to pour through parking lots and gush over rooftops, flooding the inside of anyone who’d dared to let their window stay open during this whole affair.

Nina moaned with a deep, distracted gasp as she got herself up from the couch. It was hard to stand. Hard to think, even.

“O-oh my fucking gods. I can feel e-every single last ONE of you. I c-can’t take it, I feel like I’m going to keel over any second.”

“This…this is perfect. Revolutionary, even. Now t-then. Everyone! I’m going to need to stress test this, and that means wearing you in as much daily strain as possible to test how well the thong holds up against wear. That means I also can’t take you out…off! Can’t take you off overnight, either. Just hang tight.

There are an uncountable number of coincidences in space. One advantage of meeting other life forms out in the cosmos is the ability to catalogue and document as many of these coincidences as you can with the help of other voices.

For instance: Intelligent aliens of differing body types tend to perceive each other to be “cute”. This primarily occurs in response to visual and audio information in tandem, especially associated with talking face-to-face. This can continuously recur and occur in stronger forms when exposed to multiple individuals at once or the same individual over time. As a result, the number of interspecies relationships, romantic or otherwise, between individuals of the same body type is slightly less than different body types, and moreso among those who met through so-called “blind” dating.

This response has caused numerous behavioral aberrations in regards to the smallest and most recent addition to the Collective: humans. Due to humans’ small size, they tend to be encountered in sizable groups, and are of a unique enough body type due to their size that this effect can occur in overwhelmingly strong instances.

The sudden surge in “passionate” responses to the presence of humans, known as Sellans to other members of the collective, has caused numerous problems with working with or in the presence of them, especially considering their microscopic stature makes them easy to compromise. This… lust for humans has been dubbed the “Nanokink Effect”, and is the primary cause for slowdowns in scientific research into wormholes, the study of which humans are the foremost expert in. As this subject is the cause of, and most promising solution to, the humans’ size troubles, it is unfortunate that it should be stalled so frequently by unprofessional activity.

Xoxoxo

“We’ve been implementing walkways and midlevel elevated paths along walls and floors, usually supported by a glass wall.”

“Oh! How has that been working out so far?”

“In terms of reducing incidents of unexpected or unaware contact between humans and others, the catwalks and such have done a wonderful job at both protecting humans and raising awareness.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Well, those who are eye-level with the glass wall will make faces at it, poke it, feel around underneath it, et cetera. And those who are hip-level with it tend to lean against it, leaving prints, smudges, or cracks, on top of their behavior itself being indecorous.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, there’s hallway footage of you deliberately smushing your butt up against the glass multiple times.”

“Oh. That. Hehehehehe.”

The human representative, Kim, stood at floor level, looking up at what was in comparison a monument of living existence. Gylfy, a 1ft high Grey, towered like an impossible monolith whose paws could blot neighborhoods out. Things were slow going on making the Collective’s many moons more human-habitable. It was possible, but every step forward was met with a wink and a flirtatious chuckle from any alien they wanted to actively assist.

“You know we can’t help it. Or if we can, it’s really hard to. Or if it’s not really hard to, it’s really easy to get carried away. Unless it’s tough to get carried away and there’s a bunch of safeguards in place, in which case sometimes we just have to let loose, y’know?”

“No, I’m afraid I really don’t know.” Kim sighed. “Anyway, where’s Ashley?”

“Good question! Where is Ashley? We can’t really start the meeting until the scientists are here, after all! Maybe I should call him.”

“Please do. You know how that team gets…distracted.”

Xoxoxox

A harsh ringing echoed throughout the room. Beneath a small canopy of fronds, laying in a dirt bed soaking in stray rays of sunlight, slept Ashley1. He was covered in a blanket, dozing and rolling as the sound rattled around the walls.

“Mmnghm…five more minutes…”

Eventually, he lay on his back and blinked awake. After a moment, he seemed to recognize the noise that had woken him up.

“Huh! Ah! Uh…answer!”

A soft beep, then Gylfy’s voice came lilting through the room.

“Hello, hi Ashley! Kim and I are waiting for you in the meeting room in Sector 13! Are you on your way?”

“Wah! Uh, yes! I’ve been caught up in a bit of traffic, that’s all! I promise I’ll be right there!! (hang up!)”

The call clicked closed, and Ashley sat up, finally realizing the sheer unfortunate degree to which he’d overslept.

Casting off the blanket, he stood to his full height and basked in the light streaming through the window. With long, gradual stretches, he felt knots throughout himself untangle and his skin soak in the light, a fitting breakfast in bed for him and his chlorophyll. Anyone looking through the window at him would see him stretching, yawning, all while naked save for a pair of bright blushing-red strawberry-styled panties, green hem and all.

As he blinked awake and into a new alertness and readiness for the coming day, he turned away from the window and immediately realized he couldn’t leave yet. He couldn’t simply leave for a meeting without…

“…where’s my boss?”

He looked down at the dirt floor, at the wadded blanket, at the heaped-up labcoat in the corner, and began to panic.

“Ohhh no no no…! Don’t tell me I lost them again! I’ve got to stop taking them home with me, I’m gonna be late to the meeting…! They could be anywhere. I-in the bed, in my clothes, it’ll take forever to sift through everything…”

“Wait! Uh, I can call them. Probably. Computer, call my boss?”

Xoxoxo

You lay in darkness.

Once you had groggily risen from slumber, you realized you had no idea where you were.

You did your best to stand, looking around and being met only with streaks of dim color that did little to illuminate your surroundings. You could barely see the black, spongy surface you had woken upon. You took a few steps, but a great thick curtain overhead stopped all but the faintest bits of light through.

An omnipresent aroma assaulted your nose. It was rich, ripe, undeniably natural. It seemed only to get thicker the further you moved. It was awful, but it was also difficult to place or understand. You likened it to… if a bomb went off in the produce isle. Heat and fruit smells, wood, and plastic. Dirty, but undeniably fresh and thin. It stung your nose so much, you wondered if this is what durian smelled like.

You took a step forward and nearly fell forward into a dip in the smooth surface. Before you lay a thick puddle of some unknowable fluid. Its depth was nearly to your shoulders, and it was almost entirely opaque.

You hiked around it, the process slow and boring, and the darkness never abated. Halfway around the puddle, you came up on a pillar. It was immense, wide as a city block, and rose forever upward, its top hidden by the fabric…yeah, fabric. The top of the space you were in had some kind of fabric ceiling.

Suddenly, you heard a ringing, a call from your earpiece. You answered, and one of your alien subordinates, a Siccus named Ashley, spoke to you.

“Hey…it’s me! Listen, I’m really sorry about taking you home with me last night. I don’t know where you are, boss, and we’re gonna be late to the meeting, so…where are you?”

You can’t believe how irreverent he is sometimes. “That’s your fault for being so irresponsible-! I’m not just a toy for you to shove in your body’s creases, you know! You’re lucky I don’t fire you… As to your question, I don’t know… I woke up on a dark surface, under a bit of fabric, and there’s opaque liquid of some kind. It smells like…durian, I think? Do you know what that is?”

“Oh! Yep. I know what you mean! We have a durian equivalent on SDH-41. I think I know where you are! Be right there. Stay put.”

Click.

For several seconds, you waited, before distant rumbling and shaking knocked you off your feet, directly into the puddle. It was sappy, sickeningly sweet, and got all over your body, sticking to your suit.

The quakes grew to world-disrupting thudding, immense and powerful. They also got faster, less rhythmic and more enthusiastic. Two rapid final booming stamps echoed down through the fabric, and the roof over you lifted.

Now towering over you, Ashley lifted his labcoat away, rising up to his standing height and tossing the coat on for good measure.

Your horizons were dominated by Ashley’s five-toed feet in one direction, and in the other direction, in the distance, another immense black plateau,vnot unlike the one you were on. You cast a patient, thankful gaze upward. Your patience was promptly tested. Past the endlessness of Ashley’s legs, his strawberry panties were tugged down haphazardly around his thighs. His fingers nervously fed themselves to his immense pistil slit, soft, engorged, and dripping with sap. Pure biological coincidence that it looked a dead ringer for a human’s pussy. Beyond his flat chest with fragments of light fuzz, Ashley’s flowery face was drunk with lust at the sight of you.

“I-I’m really sorry boss. Really. But we’re already late for the meeting, and you look positively adorable on my flip flop.”

“W-wait, you don’t mean-“

Ashley raised his foot, toes wiggling with a giddy enthusiasm that only kicked up more of their odor over you. The ripe, fetid stench of durian overtook your airspace. Sappy “sweat” rolled down to join the puddle before you. As Ashley’s toes wrapped around you, you heard him giggle, his words drowned out every so often by gasps and moans.

“Do you think we have time for me to f-finish before we go? I’ll get it done…nnh…faster if you…hah…l-lick me.”

Your hands clung to your nose as you squeaked a desperate order at your massive alien colleague. This wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but the result was always the same.

“A-Ashley, get me out of your smelly toes r-right now! We have to go, we don’t have time for you to finger-fuck yourself-!”

“Ahaha…Nnnnhhheeehee. Gosh I can’t stop myself, I keep trying to but I just can’t, the instant I see you I--- Hhhuhf. Nggh. Y-you don’t get a say, boss. I s-said to lick my toes, so d-do it or I’ll keep you t-there in my toesap all d- aaaayieee… a-all month. Slurp my toes or you’re in there all month, you adorable dot of pollen-!”

Ashley’s toes squeezed tight, smashing together and pressing you back into darkness.

You and Ashley were hours late to that meeting.

Year 2214, Somewhere in Andromeda...

Aboard the Dyson Sphere Space Station “Sunkisses”, a vast array of brightly-lit resorts, laboratories, and nightless cities spin in merry, sweltering harmony around a small red star. The entire light output save for tiny ribbed slits is captured, and the continuous light and heat makes it a perfect environment for those alien species that have no need for night-time.

In one of those resorts, in an admittedly messy hotel suite, on a small kitchenette countertop, sat Corner City. A small settlement for one of the universe’s smallest species, humanity. They weren’t always tiny, but the day when their size might be measured in feet instead of thou is still nowhere to be seen.1 Corner City had been “moved” here from its original location. It had been split into several discreet regions, each surrounded by a semi-rectangular dome.

After a long day’s absence, Maillot, the alien that had seized Corner City, re-entered her hotel room. She was a “Rasqué”2, a tall slim mouse-frog alien. Maillot marched into her room wet all over from a recent dip to the pool. She constantly addressed the Station Computer as she went, evidently something of a busybody.

“Computer, can you re-verify that the residents of Corner City have received their 72-hour advance notice message?”

An artificial voice played over the room’s intercom. “Checking. Confirmed. Message reads as follows: ‘To the Sellans of Corner City: you have made residence in an unapproved and disruptive location. The structures you are responsible for constituting Corner City shall be apprehended and relocated, and it is recommended that you exit the city and find a regular and safer place to live. Persons, objects, buildings, and anything else within Corner City’s bounds at {08:00:00 Today} shall fall under Maillot Avaleur’s jurisdiction. Sincerely, the lady herself, Maillot.’”

“What is the status of Corner City’s population?” She asked, before she took a small drink of some liquid on her nightstand.

“100,000 Sellans remain in Corner City, who express no motivation to leave.”

“Oh, that’s boss.3 So… people moved in after Corner City was taken? To protest, I suppose?” The giant shook her mousy snout, making disappointed tittering sounds. “Well, guess what, little specks? The reason I left this morning without so much as a nibble of food was to attend a meeting. A meeting during which I got approval for my little pet project. Perhaps some of you who didn’t just move in yesterday remember me talking about it. It’s called the Endosomatic Relocation Option.”

“Incoming Call. Dexter –“

“Answer!” Maillot smiles.

A brief beep, and then, on the other end, a small, shy voice rises, played through the headset fixed to one of Maillot’s huge mouse-ears.

“Eh, hello?”

“Good morning!”

“Uh, good morning-! Congratulations on your meeting, but…uh, you aren’t really going to try and test that procedure out on Corner City while I’m still in it keeping an eye on things, right?”

“Of course I am, Snackster. That’s the entire reason you’re there. It’s been a great help so far having a Sellan – human, sorry – who’s able to provide labor and observations from within.”

“-Ulp…observations? You mean I’ll be staying here?”

“The whole week, yeah. If all goes well, we could get approval for further relocation projects, or more. And the Endoscopic mini-copter can only provide visual data. You can do more than that.”

“Maillot, please! I don’t want to be-“

“Ahem. Computer, line 3.”

“Line 3. ‘Persons, objects, buildings, and anything else within Corner City’s bounds at {08:00:00 Today} shall fall under Maillot Avaleur’s jurisdiction.’ Current time: {08:21:38}.”

“Mhm. Understand, my little Snackster?”

“Mfff…But! I! I mean… Y-yes, I understand.”

“You understand what?”

“I understand, mistress.”

“Good boy! Computer, hang up. Now then, can I get a status report on the antacid?”

A holographic screen appeared before Maillot, showing a dark, rich cavern, full of small puddles and folded walls, each and every surface thick with a viscous sticky substance.

“Biological analysis suggests an internal aqueous pH level of 4.9. There is negligible risk of adverse or injurious reaction with biological substances. Inorganic reactions probable.”

“Ugh, and I can feel it. Takes forever to get through anything.” She coughs briefly.

She slid the kitchenette outwards, standing in front of the twenty-plus domed containers of civilization.

Maillot began, slowly and methodically expositing for her captive audience of microscopic humans.

“Here we have Corner City. 24 capsules of approximately 6 square inches each, for a total of 144 square inches, which are to be distributed across three strata of 48 square inches each. A volume of 180 cubic inches, factoring in the separation of each layer and the height of each. The total land area is equal to the equivalent of 5.165 square miles. A quarter of Brooklyn, several times the size of Central Park. A small town, a little city. A population of 100,000 humans.” This explanation, largely for the humans’ benefit and given almost entirely in terms of reference points the tiny folk could understand, nevertheless had a condescending air about it, as though she understood the information better than they did. She had no idea what the landmarks she mentioned were.

“Breakfast.”

Panic and pandemonium spread through Corner City rather quickly. However, the domed sides were quite impenetrable and inescapable.

“Shall we begin, Computer? Keep the endoscopic camera view off to the side so I can monitor the loading order and how each settles.”

“Procedure confirmed. Please open wide and breath normally.”

“Ahaahg.” Maillot opened her mouth, her mouse snout and prominent front teeth largely suited for nibbling more than swallowing things whole. Her breath was warm and patient.

“Loading Stadium Area.” A small plate below Corner City rose and folded one of the twelve domes, not all the way in half, but enough to round it like a tortilla and make its width easier to swallow whole without chewing it.

“Glk. Hah…” Maillot swallowed, gasping for a moment before turning her eyes to her stomach’s camera view. The stadium and surrounding blocks settled along the bottom of her belly. The lining of her stomach stuck and dripped along the dome on the sides.

“Loading Urban Business Sector.”

“Gulp…Hah…Hough. It’s not any easier the second time.” The segment containing skyscraper office complexes, restaurants, and popular metropolitan venues slid right next to the stadium, sinking on a puddle of her inner acids. Though right about now they couldn’t be much more acidic than a pot of bad coffee.

“Governmental Admin Borough.”

“Slurk. Slurp. Aha, that one went down easy.” Courthouses, civil offices, emergency services and medical buildings, and an in-progress spaceport all came to a rest at a slight angle against the incline of the walls.

“Parks.”

Down it went with nary a comment from the voracious Rasqué, who simply watched skate parks, natural trails, and the like settle between the stadium and businesses, pushing both unevenly as it found a place along the bottom floor of the alien’s guts.

“Beginning second strata. Dense Urban housing.”

“Hlp. Tastes iron-rich. I hate meat.” Apartments positively thick with people who had been woken up mere minutes earlier found themselves tossed and jostled, but settling along the middle of Maillot’s tum, height-wise.

“Mall.”

It took some difficulty, but Maillot fought the mall down her throat, sighing as she felt it find a spot to settle against. Its dome stuck to the goop of her stomach wall.

One by one, shopping districts, suburbs, agricultural sectors, tourism centers, industrial zones, the city tram line, all got swallowed down, one after another sliding through over her tongue and down into the deep, moist depths. Restaurants, grocery stores, swimming pools and the water park alike, quaint mansions, all vanished with a gulp and a gasp. As Maillot swallowed it all with no signs of slowing, early birds found their morning errands rewarded with eventful and exciting descents into Maillot’s bottomless appetite. Jail. Banks. Game stores. Strip clubs and bars. Arcades, bowling alleys, karaoke clubs. The backroads. The college. Down the hatch. Until eventually, there was nothing left of Corner City to relocate.

Maillot whistled through her buck teeth. The experience had been an ordeal that had taken a lot of her concentration. As she moved her midsection, she watched her internal traffic-copter capture the shifting of tectonic levels as the three layers of city atop one another wiggled with the pulsing of her stomach’s walls.

After taking a moment to savor her fullness for the briefest second, Maillot blinked and chirped her next order. “Computer, engage the strata locking.”

The layers of city clicked into place atop one another, now moving as a single block inside her.

“Incoming call. Dex –“

“Answer it. Hello again. You’re up top, right? In one of those cabaret clubs? I know you’re not at home, or you would’ve called me sooner.”

The human’s voice on the other end was squeaky, frail, frightened. Moreover, every so often a groaning, slick wet noise would overpower all audio for seconds at a time. “Maillot! It’s not too late-! You c-could still unlock the city’s layers from each other and spit us back out!! P-please? I can see outside the barricade, there’s no reason to go through with the last step. We can talk about this, work on improving it some other time-!”

“Answer the question.”

“O-of course I’m at home-!”

A ringing, bassy club song boomed through the headset.

“Computer, open up the red light district –“

“Eeek!! No no no! Okay, I admit it, I’m not at home. Listen, this is too much! We can’t possibly…”

“Okay. Hm. How to put this? You seem to be laboring under a misconception. You think I’m…’doing this to you’. You think this is a way of being domineering or you think I’m mad at you. I’m not. Huge waste of time. I’ll explain myself in no uncertain terms for you, Dex, and I want you to listen and memorize every word.”

“Heeeee…. Y-yes, Mistress.”

“I’m doing this, this Endosomatic Relocation project, this gulping you all down and making you live in my stomach, and I’m doing it with you in my experimental test, for one simple reason: I believe in it as an effective resolution to you Sellans’ size-based safety concerns. So I don’t want you polluting my data with anything other than your sincere observations and data. So I’ll have this conversation with you again tonight, if I must. But until then, I really want to eat a proper breakfast. Talk to you later, hun.”

“…O-okay. T-talk to you soon.”

“Computer, end call. Whew! What a man, right?”

“Behavior suggests apprehension, embarrassment and attraction.”

“Ha ha, shut up. Computer, shut down the Corner City border layers. Now the experiment starts.”

Instantly, the semitransparent domes over Corner City disappeared, and the whole city was accessible again. People could freely move from one part to another just by walking. As the dome floor dissipated, the bottom layer sunk into the pits of Maillot’s stomach. Puddles of her enzymes spilled over streets and into drains. The entire city tilted, resting at a noticable incline. The air within Maillot’s belly instantly flooded over everything, humidity condensing on windows, a fog dimming everything to such a degree that the street lamps turned on. Most of all, when the humans looked up, they saw the gooey, thick lining and slurry covering the roof and walls hang pendulously downward, a threat of rain thicker than roads were wide hanging over everyone’s heads.

Maillot wasted no time in preparing herself that “proper” breakfast, as minutes later bites bigger than buildings of thick chewy pancake fluff rolled down from above, burying the entertainment sectors in mucky, spittle-soaked cake, then in syrup. Downpours of fizzy fruit juice joined afterward, completely altering the content of the water park. Homes were in no time snowed in by fatty butters and sugars. Businesses across all three layers quickly met a landslide of yogurt, then another as Maillot sucked down spoonful after spoonful with a delighted, blissful smile.

And there everyone sat in it, endured it, fought their way around and through it, as Maillot’s weakened juices rose into a thick ocean that submerged the entire lower layer. The slime of her perimeter walls and ceiling dripped and clung, impossible for the tiny people’s industrial equipment to budge. It soon became clear it would all just be gross, everywhere, all day.

Gradually, as Maillot checked in every couple hours with her little copter-cam, she watched the buildings’ walls sag, roofs cave and flood with her gunk. She watched people wade into her digestive juices and emerge on the other side of their short, even seconds-long swims naked, as her fluids ate away at only the inorganic, leaving her humans untouched but slowly compromising all else just fast enough for them to keep the city standing. Resources remained accessible, but imports were rapidly lost for good, art becoming soggy and abstract, clothes becoming a luxury, then becoming all but non-existent. Cars sunk, bedrooms stunk, and fans become too slow to function, until all was a hot, muggy, icky, soaking mess.

In the evening, their world-eater ate her second and last meal of the day, piling cheap artificial sweet fried nuggets on top of mountains of salt and teeth-mashed potato, washed over with carbonated, unbearably bubbly soda. The whole city looked like it had been swept by tornadoes, earthquakes, and attacked by a miles-wide kaiju of chewed up muck.

Maillot didn’t wait for Dexter’s report. She submitted her review immediately:

“Endosomatic Relocation Option a glowing, astonishing success. The efficacy in reducing unnecessary waste, improving the walkability of human cities, and redressing safety concerns is unparalleled. Corner City could persist entire weeks longer than the initial planned one-week period. Further endosomatic architectural projects, including relocations, from-scratch constructions, and colonizations are highly suggested as future steps. As yet to be tested are alternative bodily environments; it is difficult to understate the degree to which humans’ flourishing in the smaller space surpasses expectations. Five stars; I would be surprised if any organ, nook, surface, or secretion met the astronomic standard set by this stomach experiment. My satisfaction is immeasurable, and my day is peak.”

A thou is a thousandth of an inch. 1 thou is about 25 micrometers. Humanity shrunk such that someone who was 5’7” before would be 5 thou + 7/12ths thou, so for simplicity most humans abbreviate to 5thou7sub-thou, or just 5t7s.

A Rasqué is an alien (obviously). An Alpha member of the Interstellar Collective, about 5’4” tall with very little variation between individuals. They are quadrupedal, slimly built, and most resemble a mix between a frog and a mouse, with long legs and an upright, deerlike posture. The most noticeable aspect of a Rasqué is their enormous mane of white hair. This hair is especially thin, wispy, and hydrophobic; water literally falls right out of it. This is good, as they are amphibians. Not ‘amphibious’, amphibians: their cellular DNA is almost identical to that of Earth frogs. They live only about 8 years, but leapt into space travel thanks to numerous biological advantages. Their eggs virtually never expire, and they spend only about ten days as tadpoles & tailed froglets; after which point the tail-less adults are intellectually and reproductively mature for the remainder of their admittedly short lives. In addition, their cross-generational knowledge retention is nothing short of miraculous; many longer-living species report meeting with an “old” Rasqué acquaintance, only to realize later they had been speaking with someone else of a subsequent generation, who possessed a seemingly eidetic recollection of social dynamics and conversations the individual in question had never participated in. Finally, their skin is very tight on their body. Like frog skin, they must occasionally moisturize, however neither the vacuum of space nor their planet’s meager meat-eaters are capable of pulling them apart. Because of this, Rasqués never met a survival reason to develop clothes. So they didn’t. Not even spacesuits. An inadvertent consequence is that Rasqués are subject of many instances of culture shock and accusations of indecency and obscenity. Rasqués ARE slutty, but it's not because of the nudity.

You awaken to utter darkness. Below you is cushioned softness of an utterly pleasant caliber. All around you is a warm humidity, coupled with an intense feminine scent. As you stir and roll, you feel a wet spot.

...Oh no!! Did you wet the - no wait.

You slowly pick yourself up and flip yourself over, looking up at a thick string of viscous alien fluid. You were so cozy, you'd forgotten you were in Nadira's panties overnight, you suppose. You couldn't see anything very clearly with how dark it is in here.

You're surprised how recognizable the entire environment is, despite the disparate physiology. The only hint that something is amiss or nonhuman is a scent of hair or fur, and a lingering aftertaste not dissimilar to some 'rustic' or 'rugged desert' beverages you've tasted. It's still unmistakably feminine and hot, though.

You have your glasses, though your spacesuit/uniform was left on your own bed. You suppose you were going to have Nadira take you back there so you could change before today's launch...

...Oh gosh that's right the launch-! Nadira needed to wake up...!

Just as you think that, you hear a great and powerful stirring from above. Gravity itself shifts below you as Nadira sits up in bed, her crotch imposing down before squishing on top of you. It's too dark to look at it, but it certainly feels like a vagina. Or at least, it feels like how you'd imagine a vagina would feel at your scale. You were something of a mote against hers.

She didn't seem to even notice, though. You felt her rise up from her bed, march to the sink, and lean over to wet her head and face. As she dried herself off, Nadira looked calmly into the mirror. You heard her, muffled, speak to herself in the mirror.

"Just get dressed... nobody will notice if you shower after the launch, but everybody will notice if you're late. Yes. We won't even be the most disheveled one there. Miss Friya probably stayed up all night playing MMOs the night before launch again. We are pristine. We are perfect. Okay. Off we go."

The odd pep talk was difficult to hear, but you realized all too late that Nadira was just going to toss a sweater, socks, and boots on. Her fur-skirt meant she didn't really see the need to wear pants...but more importantly, she was going out there with you still in her panties--!

Just as you squirm to try to get up, Nadira exits her door, then swiftly crosses her legs as she stands, as though caught off guard by someone. You let out a squeak, which is purely buried against the dark fold smothering your entire body.

"Second Mate Nadira III. Please report to the deck immediately! Your coworkers are waiting! I can't believe I have to round up a bunch of stragglers like this. We're supposed to be professionals." That seems to be Lt. Bitwise. He's a busybody as usual.

"Right away, Sir Bitwise. We are ready."

"...Mmmgyeah..." Mads seems disenchanted from Nadira's princessy speech mannerisms. You hear him march off.

"Three...two...one...okay he's out of earshot. I shouldn't run in these boots, however."

Oh no. She's not going to-!?

The Phosfynx takes off into a sprint, her boots leaving loud and heavy clunks as she books it for the bridge. Or maybe it's just to get away from anyone with higher authority than her who can chew her out for showing up to the launch ceremony eight minutes late without having gotten a real shower yet.

You are once again completely and utterly stifled from getting Nadira's attention, this time her thighs smearing the fabric of her underwear to and fro, slowly but surely tugging it snug against her body and folds, before beginning to swallow it. The more she sprints, the more your face and arms are swallowed by the cavernous flesh above you. Each full-speed turn she takes is driving you further against what must be vulva, but in this darkness may as well be a dark, drooling monster engulfing you whole.

You hear Nadira skid to a harsh stop, and a moment later her panting and the dings of the Main Elevator. Oh...no no.

You still can't get her attention, even now-! You yelp as best as you can, but it's just lost against her very flesh. The vulpine crotch all around you absorbs the pithy sound effortlessly, and while you would easily be audible if you could just get your face off her folds, your humiliation is far from over, as Nadira didn't even tug out her cameltoe before entering the bridge. She plunks down in her seat, and crosses her legs, further sealing you in her musk and lips.

Though, now that you're no longer below her, a very, very faint trace of light filters in from beyond the wall of her underwear. You can see extremely blurry figures moving back and forth. There seems to be commotion amidst the various officers.

"Nope! Haven't seen her, sorry." Jora chirps with a dismissive sneer.

"Moss?" Jynx barks across the room.

A chair swivels. "Nope, sorry. Dunno where the captain is, either. She's not in her room?"

You feel Nadira's body chill for the slightest of moments. She fidgets in her seat.

Oh. Oh no. She forgot you were a human again, didn't she?

"N-no...Ahh...ahh..." Nadira breathes, her sighs hot and heavy. You freeze, but it's already too late. You can feel the infinite expanse larger than a city above you contract with vibrations that shake you to your very bones. Fluid pools around your body.

Everyone present in the bridge turns.

"Sorry, what was that, Nadira?" Jynx says, not even having realized Nadira was here yet.

"A-aahhihihi...I-I'm c-cummiiiiIIIIING---!" Nadira moans blissfully, her voice completely out of her own control.

Wave after wave of thick, saline juices pour from the unknown darkness directly over you in heavy, merciless waves, shoving you from privacy and against the front of Nadira's panties. Humiliating on its own, but her underwear was so displaced from her run that you found yourself shoved along the sides, the flow of sticky love pouring out onto Nadira's seat, and you along with it. Where everyone, their attention thoroughly captured, were now looking.

The good news: You are out of Nadira's panties! Hooray!

The bad news: You are soaked in her cum, stuck to her thighs and chair, in just your own underwear, with half of the rest of the officers looking directly at you in horror.

Nadira's handpaw smashes down on you with a lightning speed, quickly covering you and shoving you immediately back into her panties, as though to hide you. Of course, she's just shoved you haphazardly directly back into her own orgasmic tide, so it is little consolation, especially not when everybody already knows.

Nadira stutters to try to come up with something, anything. "A-aha...Where are our manners. We are not feeling well. We should...visit the...room." She's completely out of breath. It's hard for her to get through the sentence without groaning. She's sweating.

Jynx is succinct and professional, silencing everyone else in the room with but a single lift of her paw. "Nadira."

"Queen Jynx... ehehehe. Y-your majesty?"

"Do you have the Captain in your underwear?" Jynx says it so matter-of-factly.

"N-no...? This is..." Nadira struggles to come up with a lie. "...A stowaway?"

Ramon shouts from across the room. "BULL FUCKING SHIT! Why do you think I keep my doorbell off for everything except ship-wide emergencies? THIS ALWAYS FUCKIN' HAPPENS!!"

Jynx shoots a look at him, and he stops talking. She turns back to Nadira. She is as calm as ever, though her voice lacks her usual playful candor.

"I have only one question. You will answer it succinctly and honestly, are we clear?"

"Y-yes ma'am."

"Did you approach her, or did she approach you?"

"S-she called me to her room last night. She was in just her underwear and asked me to...'support her'."

"..." Jynx is silent for the longest time. A great and palpable tension sits in the air.

"Okie doke! No harm in a little consensual fun, then! As long as you clean up your chair so it doesn't stain, you're squeaky clean. Nobody outside this room has to know."

"R-really!?"

"Oh, of course. Justine's the one in trouble. May I speak with her?"

You feel Nadira's paw shove itself into your prison and pull you free again, your body sticky with Nadira's fluids sticking to you all over. You do your best to sit at attention atop her palm, even though your muscles ache and all you want to do is lay down on her soft paw and fall asleep. Maybe wake up from this very awkward nightmare.

Jynx locks eyes with you, and you feel a chill run down your spine. The short feline alien is nevertheless menacing when she's serious. And well, still monumentally massive to you.

"Captain, we all need to destress from time to time. That's why this vessel has an entire Gallery Deck with a library and a gym and a hundred other things. And your choice of playmate is yours to make at any point. It complicates your relationship with your other crewmates, of course, but you're free to do that if you want. Hell, you can conduct the ship launch from the tip of Second Mate Nadira's waistband, for all I care."

You avert your gaze. Yes you're blushing, but you just imagined you proudly announcing takeoff from Nadira's cute panties and you're struggling not to snicker. You shouldn't. You REALLY shouldn't laugh now of all times.

"However! You are under no circumstances to abuse your power to beget sexual favors from your subordinates, and you should absolutely NEVER delay a vessel like this on Bureaucracy launching orders because you're too busy exploring your coworkers. The Captain's badge is not a license to do whatever you please, and it is extremely questionable to me that this is one of the first things you've done with your newfound authority."

"O-oh. S-sorry, Director. Am I going to be punished for this? I don't want to lose my badge -"

"No. No, you are not going to be punished for this. The embarrassment of almost all your officers getting THIS first impression of you is plenty already. I want one, and only one thing from you right now."

"Y-yes?"

"Go get changed and cleaned up and get back here immediately. We're launching in four minutes, and I am required by law to document your exact circumstances in the black box should you not be on the bridge at that time. So unless you want your little tryst to be immortalized in the ship's logs for the rest of time, both of you had better move your butts." She sticks out her tongue and does a wiggly wave-goodbye.

You and Nadira exchange a nervous glance. You duck and hold on to her palm for dear life as she immediately books it towards the elevator.

Three and a half minutes later, you are dry, clothed, and seated in your Captain's chair, and Nadira, has changed into a pair of spats.

The launching ceremony occurs without incident, though the majesty of the roar of the ship's engines and the sight of the great dark frontier ahead of you is undercut slightly by the rest of your officers sneaking glances at you and giggling, whispering amongst themselves.

Damnit. You were never gonna live this down, were you?

Well... you suppose you'll have plenty of time to try in between here and the first stop on your mission.

Here begins Day One of your adventures as a spaceship captain.

You should probably familiarize yourself a bit more with the Rampant Lovelander. Tour it a little? Meet more crewmates? You ought to spend time anywhere but up here on the bridge.

So... where to go.

Option 1: The Gallery Deck Option 2: The Main Deck Option 3: The Gut Deck Option 4: You need a proper shower. Back to your room you go.

... You're lonely, you've decided.

...This might have something to do with that.

It's difficult to get to sleep when you're this excited and anxious. You're going to explore the universe tomorrow, and you really didn't get to express those feelings. And it's difficult to express them aboard a pillow several times your size. Granted, the pillow's got a cozy mini-mattress-suite for you, and you're actually not too lost on the pillow. But still. You're understimulated. And you've mulled it over long enough to know what you want.

You sit up in bed and offer a simple request. "Computer, ping Nadira and tell her to report to the Captain's Quarters. Privately. Please don't announce it to the whole ship."

The loudspeaker comes on for what you can obviously tell is the whole ship, then goes off again as you finish your request. You breathe a sigh of relief, but doubtless much of the crew now knows someone just tried to use the intercom close to midnight. Geez. Next time, you're going to lead your commands the other way around.

The door to your bedroom opens automatically for Nadira as she arrives. She's silhouetted by the hall light, which is always on when occupied. She steps in without announcing herself, her winter boots producing squeaks on the floor. She takes them off as she enters. The door closes behind her and the light slowly fades up some to avoid the tripping hazard.

"...Where's the... oh I forgot the Captain was a Sellan again on the way over." Nadira blinks as she tries to find you on your own bed. She steps closer. The room shakes slightly, at least from your perspective. Nadira sort of has a plodding gait because she's used to wearing her boots, you suppose.

"Thank you for coming over, Nadira! I was hoping the both of us could hang out. I'm really anxious and lonely and I haven't had anyone to vent to. It's just been an age and I might be touch-starved. I hope it's not too out of line to ask for a snuggle?"

Nadira shushes you as you finish. "We are Princesses of illustrious stature and spectacular repute. Justifications between our kind are only for the lesser nobles to dispute over. And we lack an audience, do we not? So says I, Nadira III. 'Just say what's on your mind and we shall handle it, Princess Skylor.'" The eyes on her snake-head close, but her eye-spots on her fox-head remain open. You suppose that settles it about which ones are her real eyes. You don't stare, though, not that she can probably see you that well in this light.

"I...uhm. Wanted a playmate and think you're cute?" You try again, sitting up in bed and feeling awkward.

Nadira approaches. She kneels beside your bed, looking at you atop the pillow closely. She stops trying to hide the fact that her serpent-crown is looking at you - she seems to have turned off that prey paranoia instinct in your company. That's nice. You smile at her and blush sheepishly.

"The Captain thinks I'm cute..." Nadira purrs dreamily, lost in thought. She snaps to attention, and rises to her feet. "We understand completely, your majesty. The position of your kingdom is clear to us. Clad in naught but bra and panties, you have invited us to your most sacred of realms to confide in our power as a fellow royal. There is much wisdom in your choice. We shall not disappoint."

With that, Nadira re-approaches the door, and makes a sweeping hand motion out into the air. The lights lower to a thin, wispy darkness, hiding Nadira from you over this distance. The Phosfynx in silhouette strips off her sweater and hat(s) and tosses them atop her boots, before fussing with something at her hips. She re-approaches your bed, and hops aboard, her intentions to comply with your request for a playmate crystal clear.

You take one look at her and nearly snort with laughter. "...S-sorry, the eye spots make you look bored. The bigger face is all I can focus on from this perspective!"

Sort of a rude thing to say, but the Translator seemed to handle it elegantly. Nadira laughed, then bounced in her seat. "Certainly! Let's eliminate your distraction, like so-"

[For those curious] [The Translator handled this by altering it significantly. Nadira heard "Could you wipe that dumb look off your face? Your eyes are in the way!"

Acknowledging the Phosfynx' eye spots is a no-go, so the Translator just made the request sound nonsensical and outside the purview of typical realistic expectations. This sounds a lot more like a joke, which is just in better taste over all.]

And then Nadira lifted her paw and swept it across her face, smearing off that goofy bored expression.

Nadira gave a small, yet triumphant chuckle.

"So! What do you think? Do you need a closer look?"

You look up at her. She seems more exuberant, somehow. "I can see you perfectly! Thank you for the offer, though!"

"Oho. My princess has misunderstood. I meant of my panties!" Nadira scooches forward, your view of her face immediately thwarted by lingerie and fluff. As a reminder, your height as a human rivals that of the thickness of a sheet of paper so Nadira's panties were all you could perceive forwards and to the sides when they were this close. A feminine excitement lingered in the air like a mist.

You gulp.

"Your undies..."

"Your palace!" the fox alien chirps with a gleeful fervor. "We insist, tour them at your leisure~!"

"E-eh!?"

You don't have time to wait for a reply. A paw lowers and swipes you from your perch, rolling your tiny body along the endless fuzzy plains of Nadira's underwear before you disappear into the fluff of her fur. Her waistband is hidden, but that doesn't stop her from finding it, poking it open and dropping you inside with little ceremony. Darkness swipes over you, and you are pressed tightly. You don't even squirm or resist.

"I'll be confiscating you to my room. I can't be seen leaving yours in the morning, you understand. We may play more enthusiastically in the morning. For now, sleep well, fellow princess!"

You are held betwixt Nadira's thighs in a tight squeeze, rolled down her body as she gets up and re-dresses herself. As she walks back to her own room, you settle beneath her crotch, held tightly against her body, and the pressure lulls you comfortably to sleep. ...Oh, so that's what was wrong! You needed a firmer bed!

Okie doke! Now that you're seated, you turn to Jynx. You glance at the ship manifest and decide to pick who you'd like to meet first.

"Ok! Jynx, I'd like to say to hi to..."

[Option 1: ID #000, the Evacuations Director]

"...The Evacuations Director?" You say, glancing at the top.

"Hi, that's me." Jynx replies instantly.

"...Oh."

Jynx is using some kind of telekinetic power to float around in circles. She's thankfully far enough away from you that her relative size doesn't disorient you. You don't know what it would be like to be on her body when she's spinning around or floating like that, but you're glad she didn't do that while carrying you around earlier. This day has already been overwhelming enough without nausea.

"Why are you listed first, anyway? I'm like... Number 4? I feel like the captain should be 1." You ask.

"Oh, yeah, I can explain that. Ship IDs are listed in 'Wake-Up' order. If there's an unknown emergency, the ship wakes me up first, then the Reactor Specialist, Head Engineer, Head Comms Officer, and then wakes up you, Mads, and then the rest of the crew." Jynx says.

"Why's that?"

"Alright, picture this. You're eight months into a trip between two galaxies. You're not gonna see any Collective ship or station that can help you for another three months, on top of that. The ship automatically detects the Main Reactor going critical. It wakes up you, the reactor specialist, and the head engineer. Your dorms are placed on opposite sides of the ship because you have a hundred ID numbers between you. By the time you can meet up and make a plan of action, boom. Ship explodes, everybody dies."

"Oh, that's not fun."

"Right? Ok, another example. You're being raided by space pirates. They know better than to ask the enemy to just give up their own captain, so they handle it themselves. They walk to the dorms, crack open the first two doors they see, and woops, there you are. Bang. Pipe bomb gets thrown in your face."

"How does the weird numbering system fix that?"

"Simple. When there's an emergency on the ship, the one who gets woken up first...is me. The Evacuation Director is a highly intensive role requiring a lot of experience. Most E.Ds are retired captains. If the captain and co-captain bite it, authority gets passed to me."

"So...what do you do?"

"It's my job to know what to do when there's an emergency, and to respond to it as fast as possible. My dorm alone has six different buttons in it that wake up very specific configurations of crewmates to instantly respond to any possible crisis. I am in the perfect position to do one job and one job only - answer emergencies, and if need be, evacuate everyone safely."

"Have you ever done this before?"

"I have done this for almost every single Academy Station graduate for the last six hundred years." Jynx says it so matter-of-factly. It's hard not to take her seriously, even while she's upside-down.

"I had no idea you Greys could get that old."

"Who are you calling old...? I'm like, 32 in human years."

"How old are you for actually?"

"...................uh, 617?"

You can tell that's a lie almost instantly. "Really?"

"Ugh!! Fine! I'm like, 4,810. I've been around the block for well over half the time the Collective's even existed, so why don'tcha show me some respect and don't talk to me like I'm some kinda grandma!"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Jynx. Do a good job, okay?"

Jynx stops floating and lands perfectly upright in one of the bridge's seats, catching her hat with a forepaw. "I always do a good job."

[Option #2: ID#001, the Reactor Specialist]

"Hey, so I guess let's call ID 1 up here. They're not a member of the officers, right?" You ask.

"Correct. Vanilla is, however, very important because he's the Reactor Specialist. He makes sure the ship doesn't get enveloped in plasmatic hydrogen and become a star." Jynx says. "I'll call him up to the bridge so you can say hi."

Three minutes later, and Vanilla arrived.

"Vanilla is a Siccus. They're primarily composed of plant cells, but they aren't really 'plant-people' if you get my meaning. They don't play well with other plant-based aliens, and instead work well with animals, myconids, and silicatids, et cetera." Jynx rattled off a bit of alien trivia as Vanilla entered. You suppose that was for your sake.

"Nice to meet you, Vanilla!"

His gaze was intense. He seemed flowery in his superficial appearance, but there was little doubt in your mind that he was all-business.

"Captain. Name's Vanilla. I handle the solar reactor above the Gallery Deck. It produces light that rivals that of a star. Don't stare at it." He approaches your chair and...hands you an appropriately-sized pair of sunglasses.

"For small crewmates." He says. "Since you will have to look up a fair lot."

"Oh, thank you!" You put on the sunglasses. "They're so cool!"

Vanilla immediately strolls back over to the elevator.

"Oh! Are you leaving already?" You ask.

"I will be busy a lot of the time. Big ball of fire powers the ship. I am the guy who knows how to make it not go boom. Also. I need to give a few other small crewmates sunglasses, as well."

"Oh! Well, best of luck! I hope we can talk some more later when you're not so busy!"

Vanilla blinks slowly, but his expression doesn't change. "If you need shade...and I have free time to spare... I can stand over you. If you want." He says it in such a straightforward fashion, you don't realize he's flirting at first.

"O-oh. I'll think about it!! Hehehehe." You admit, he is definitely very nice to look at.

"Goodbye." And then he leaves.

"How long in advance did he make those sunglasses for you, I wonder." Jynx appears to have been keeping herself busy by drawing a picture of you wearing anime-style sunglasses on the room's big monitor.

[Option #3: ID#002, the Head Engineer] [This sequence contains: Thighs.]

"Can you call the Head Engineer up? The way I see it, they're basically one of the two most important people on a vessel like this." You say.

"Yeah, of course. Though really, the Captain's mates are the higher authority." Jynx says. She presses a button on her chair. "Lieutenant, we'd like to have a word with Moss Gilliam."

A minute later, and in strolls a rather...mossy and green character from the elevator.

"Miss Gilliam is a Miregreen Saltcony. You'll note the single eye and floral body." Jynx says.

"Hi, nice to meet you!" You say, standing up.

Moss approaches the Captain's chair and looks over the odd configuration of stuff on the cushion meant to accommodate for your size. Her huge eye looks over everything but you, seemingly. She blinks and then turns right around, seemingly to leave.

"Hey, wait, where are you going-?" You start, before Moss leaps up, her body passing entirely over you before landing against the regular-sized seat-back, sitting in your chair with your miniature captain's chambers between her legs. You crane your neck up and turn around to meet her eye, which only now is looking at you.

"Cap'n." Moss nods. "Welcome aboard the Rampant Lovelander. I hope you like the Dollhouse Theater I prepped for your Captain's seat. I figured it'd be cozier than a field of cushion fibers."

"Oh? You mean this miniature captain seat here is something you built?"

"It's not just a tiny chair, it's also a kitchenette, an office fit for a war room, a shower room, walk-in closet. Lounge. Exercise Room. A hella gamer setup. I especially love the Micro-Management sim at the back. It's got an interactive hologram of the whole ship with a live map of estimated positions of every crewmate. You can issue orders anywhere, anytime, to anyone, easier than ordering takeout. If y'ever wanted to feel BIG? That's why I called it the Dollhouse Theater." Moss offers a prideful smirk.

"Oh, wow! I'll have to check that out later. I guess I didn't know how impressed I should be. I thought you were just making fun of me for being small." You say.

"Well. The fact that it fits between my thighs with 2 inches to spare on either side is a nice bonus."

"About that..." You really tried as hard as you could to keep looking at Moss' face. The fact that her bare thighs and all were surrounding you like a wall of mountains was a bit hard to pretend to ignore.

"Miregreens like Moss usually are covered in bandages and flora to hide the parts of their bodies where their animal tissue meets the plants they symbiotically bond with. It's atypical to meet one so...exposed." Jynx says. She's not even looking.

"We don't have hands or feet or tails, so our 'paws' are bonded with plants that take the right shape. Most Saltcony also cover the side of our heads where our eye isn't, but I guess I'm 'an egomaniac' because I think I look pretty. I lead with with the best of me."

"Moss, could you at least ASK before you sit here and surround me with your thighs 'n crotch and all-!" You protest.

"Haha! Sure." Moss gets up, lifting one thigh and passing it over the Dollhouse Theater, before hopping up and out of the chair. She turns her head to you as she walks over to her own seat on the bridge. "Though, just remember that you can ask me for anything! If you want me to build anything, I'll do it. If you want me to introduce you to give you six new hobbies, I can do that. Or if you want to explode in the best way possible and wake up a week later sore in a hundred places-"

"Go sit down, Moss. And get in line. Everybody thinks the Captain's cute." Jynx says, almost bored.

"Yeah yeah. Killjoy." And off Moss goes to her seat. She winks at you from across the room. Or...blinks? Hard to tell, one eye. She is at least a little cute, you decide.

[Option 4: ID#003, the Head Communications Officer] [This sequence contains: paw.]

"Ok. Let's see. How about the Head Communications Officer. I think of the Commsperson and the Engineer as basically the two most important people on the ship, y'know." You say.

"Well, that's kind. You're wrong of course, because it's you and me, but still! Really nice of you to think that." Jynx says. She calls Mads to send up the HCO.

A minute or so later, a rather dignified...no...sleepy-looking, bunny-alien walks in from the elevator.

"Miss Zero is a Nevergreen Saltcony. Saltcony come in a few varieties, but the Nevergreens are the ones that always look cold and have legs and tails made of crystalized salt." Jynx says. She seems to have the biological information on the species of all the crewmates memorized.

"Howdy." Friya says. She doesn't walk closer or anything, she just greets you from across the room.

"Uh...howdy?" You reply.

"Howdy..." Friya says again. She's got one eye, the other side of her face has a big eyepatch across it. You know Saltcony only have the one eye, but it's a little odd that it's on one side of their head rather than in the center. For whatever reason, you find yourself paying a lot of attention to Friya's eye - probably because she looks so completely and utterly spaced out.

"Howdy. I'm Justine! What's your name?" You try to get anything else out of her.

"Friya."

"Hi Friya!" You smile! You try to plead with Jynx with your eyes for any sort of help at all.

"FRIYA!" Jynx shouts.

"AHiii...yes?" Friya seems to wake up for a moment.

"Go get some coffee. And quit staying up late playing MMOs before launch day. I will kick your ass if you embarrass the captain because you fall asleep at the wheel, got it?" Jynx clicks her tongue.

"Yes, ma'am. I'lla go right away. Ain't easy getting decent shuteye on the station. Sorry y'all."

"Don't worry about it!! We can chat more later when you feel a bit more alert!" You try to be encouraging.

Friya walks over to the captain's chair now, and lifts one of her paws. It's true, her leg is basically one big carved, salty rock. She lowers it over you and...pets your head. It's surprisingly gentle - well, as gentle as getting pressed on by a big rocky ceiling can be. Little salt grains slightly taller than you are fall around you.

"You're a...good egg. Nice ta meet ya, Captain." Friya murmurs.

"U-uh...! Yeah! Nice to meet you too." You say, trying not to flinch under the unyielding weight of her foot.

With that, Friya heads back down the elevator.

Jynx blinks slowly. "Ugh, she acts like she's still a college student, it's the worst. At least she keeps a decent sleep schedule while she's on the ship."

"How do you know everybody, Jynx?" You ask.

"Not everybody. Just the characters."

ID#004 is You.

ID #005 is Mads, the Co-Captain, otherwise known as the First Mate.

[Option #5: ID#006, the Second Mate] [This sequence has: Licking.]

"The first mate is the co-captain right? I don't think I need to do a proper introduction to the Lieutenant. I think we already did that, more or less. So...how about the second mate?" You say.

"Good choice." Jynx says, pushing the intercom button on her chair. "Hey Mads, Jynx. Send Nadira up."

Rather than waiting in silence for a minute for Nadira to arrive, Jynx continues talking to you while you wait. "Now, before Nadira arrives, I should let you know that she's a Phosfynx. They're a canid-like alien that swaps between a bipedal anthropoid morphology and a quadrupedal one in accordance with the moon. Though, without a moon to sync up with, they swap every other day, more or less. Nadira's a biped today. And this is important, so listen - Phosfynx have a 'crown' with a serpent head. That's where her real eyes are, so try not to look at it. Her 'main' head's eyes are just eye-spots, kind of like an orca. It wigs out her species when others meet their real eyes' gaze because it sets off their prey instincts. They were in kind of a middle of the food chain position on their home planet, see."

"Don't look at the snake head, got it." You say.

Nadira arrives just as soon as you finish that sentence.

Her winter boots produce squeaks against the polished floors. She prances with a confident strut over to your chair, then right past it. Then she stops and backs up until she's in front of your chair again.

"...I forgot the Captain was a Sellan on the way up here." She says. She kneels in front of your chair to be more at your eye-level. You can tell from the way she moves her head she's intentionally doing her best to make it look like she's looking at you with the eye-spots on her big canine head. It's hard not to occasionally glance at the snake-head, especially when you notice the smaller hat.

[Footnote: Regarding the Translator] [The Interplanetary Translator worn by all the characters has a few quirks that are worth re-iterating. For starters, the way it works is by collecting a huge amount of data from spoken language, before mapping several language models in an attempt to find the best fit. This process is fast only because it takes a Hypercomputer's worth of processing to accomplish. However, it's worth noting that its translations prioritize successful communication of core concepts over perfect accuracy. Jynx, for instance, has never seen an orca in her entire life, and definitely would never reference an Earth animal as an example. Instead, the translator pulled this example in order to communicate the idea faster.

Another quirk of The Translators is that they censor slurs, epithets, pet-names, and other slang for species' names using an arbitrary catch-all term. These terms exist for every species, but the only one you need to know is "Sellan" for humans. Whenever a character calls a human "Sellan", it is a placeholder for a word in that character's home-language that refers to humans, but cannot be Translated because it is derogatory, potentially offensive, or would be difficult to parse. Basically, the Translators have a built-in feature that stops the Collective from giving each other insulting Ben 10-style alien nicknames.

Okay, back to adventure.]

"Uh, it's okay!! As long as you don't accidentally forget I'm small while I'm on the floor or somewhere, it's fine if you take a little bit to get used to it!"

"We are Nadira III. Honorable princess of great repute. It's nice to meet you, Captain."

"Oh, are you actually a princess? That's super cool!" You say.

Out of the corner of your eye, you look past Nadira at Jynx. Jynx is doing a 'cut it out' motion with her forepaw over her neck. She's also holding up a holographic screen that reads 'She's not a princess, none of them are princesses. They just talk like that. Nobody knows why.'

"The Captain thinks I'm cool..." Nadira seems to blush for a moment, before regaining her composure. "We shall be the bestest of friends. You shalt not refuse."

"Y-yeah! Okay! We can be friends if you want! Looking forward to working with you!" You hold out a hand for a handshake. You know it's very very small, but the gesture can't hurt, right?

The sphinxfoxgirl instead leans in closer, closer, closer. When her snout almost touches you, she sticks out her tongue, and her tongue presses you down in your chair. She laps at your body for a moment, before lifting her head and letting you slowly drip off of her tongue. She lifts her pawfingers and dries your dot of a body out of the droplet of spittle she left on your whole region.

"A handshake is plebian and unbefitting of authority and princesses like us. A kiss is much more in line with Our stature. We look forward to working with you, Princess Captain Skylor."

You try to dry the front of your spacesuit with your hands. ...Nope, still gonna be a little soggy for the rest of the day. "Uh...yeah!! See you later, Nadira! I'll call you when I need something."

Nadira heads over to her chair. She keeps seeming to be tasting something in her mouth, like she's sucking on a piece of candy. Is she...appreciating your flavor? That's a bit weird.

"The Second Mate usually handles diplomatic duties, by the way." Jynx says.

"I am quite diplomatic." Nadira says it in an oddly defensive manner, like she's trying to hoard her position to herself.

[Option #6: ID#007, the Third Mate] [This sequence contains: Sharp claws.]

"Can you call up the Third Mate to the bridge?"

"Yup. On it."

Topsy plods off the elevator a minute or two later.

"Topsy is a Demi-human." Jynx says, beginning to prattle off some sort of rehearsed info-dump, but you have to stop her right away.

"Sorry, a Demi-human?"

"Oh...uh... sorry, hang on. Just call them 'Demis' for simplicity's sake. The Translator automatically fills in the suffix part of their name with a common referent for bipedal aliens. There really isn't a more convenient word for Topsy's species; even their own language refers to themselves as "Half-and-Halfs" or something to that effect. Right?"

Topsy nods.

"Uh, hi! Sorry to be talking about you rather than to you. I'm Justine!" You put out your hand for a handshake.

Topsy approaches and lifts one of his arms, holding out a razor-sharp claw from one of his digits. It's so sharp, in fact, it's thinner than your microscopic body at its edge. You...carefully and gently hold the tip of it and shake it. It's a very dangerous finger-handshake.

"Topsy. I'm in charge of safety. Let me know if your spacesuit needs adjusting or anything. It's my job to make sure there's life-vests and breathable atmosphere aboard for everyone."

"Oh, neat! Do the claws help you with your safety-stuff?" You can't help but ask.

"Nah. Well, yeah. If you're ever tied up I've got ya. But really I just like to paint m'nails."

"Oh, neat!! Maybe we could do that together." You offer.

"That's awesome." He points at you with the knife's edge of his scary-sharp claw. "You're a real one."

"Ahaha...t-thanks!" You gulp. Mental note: do not make him mad.

"Remind me to get you safety goggles and a swimsuit and the like later. It's no rush, but you ought to have them just in case. For now I've gots to go and check the seatbelts on the escape pods."

"Oh, right! Th-that sounds important. Best of luck!" You weren't trying to dismiss him so quickly, but it was hard not to be at least a little intimidated, despite how otherwise relaxed Topsy seemed to be.

Topsy tips his hat with one of his claws, and then plods right back out towards the elevator. He really is quite a weird beast - half-cat, half-human-ish, all chill. Though, he is quite a bit bigger than humans were now, obviously.

"You know, he's actually really precise with those claws of his," Jynx says, seemingly to nobody in particular. "He can slice the clothes right off you without even leaving a scratch."

You consider chewing Jynx out for the unnecessary aside, but the instant you began thinking about what she said, it became hard to get it out of your head.

[Option #7:ID#008, the Fourth Mate] [This sequence contains: expletives!]

"Yeah, let's call the fourth mate up to the bridge. Can you do that?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Captain." Jynx is quick to reply, and just as quick to call 'Ramon Reilly' up to the bridge.

It takes a bit longer than you might otherwise have expected any of the other crewmates to arrive. In fact, it takes longer than five minutes.

"Hey...what's the hold-up? Nobody else so far has taken this long."

"Aw, just give poor Ramon a minute. He's always quite punctual and responsible, I'll have you know. I'm sure he just got caught up on the way." Jynx is snickering to herself about something.

"...Can I at least know what kind of person he is? What species is he?"

"Oh, he's perfectly normal. And just a swell dude, all around. Totally reliable. Easy to keep by your side."

You note her failure to answer the second question. "Then where is he?"

"Oh, or didn't you know? He's been in the room with us this entire time."

"No I didn't know? Am I being pranked, is he invisible or something?"

"Nyaha! Invisible. That's funny. Not at all, I thought you might be able to relate some! You and Ramon have a lot in common!"

"Jynx, go get Ramon. This is silly."

"Yeah, sure."

Jynx hops out of her chair and approaches a different one on the opposite side of the room. She reaches out one of her paws to the middle of it, and you hear a series of rustling, echoing noises over your earpiece. After a minute, you get a brief bit of sharp, loud feedback. And then, as Jynx picks him up, you hear Ramon speak.

"You seriously left me here on the chair overnight without my headset!? You frickin' brat! Unfuckinbelievable."

Jynx sets him down in front of you.

"Oh hey! I didn't know there were other humans on the ship! Let alone in the officers! Hi!" You perk up right away, forgiving Jynx for making you play a guessing game in your excitement.

"And whose fault is that, huh?" Ramon glares at the Grey looming off to the side of both of you.

"I'm not sorry, it was funny." Jynx states it flatly as though it were a fact of life.

"It was NOT funny! I had to wander the stupid friggin' cushion for half a day because you took my earpiece away. This shit SUCKS!! You macros are terrible!"

Jynx seemed to miss part of what Ramon said. "It doesn't have anything to do with me being a Grey! All of us think you humans are cute."

"Macros?" You ask.

"Oh yeah, that's a catch-all term for aliens the Translators-" Jynx starts.

"No, not that. Sorry, you probably can't get context, Jynx. I can understand Ramon without the translator, so I'm hearing what he's saying unfiltered, and I think part of what he's saying just...isn't being picked up and localized the right way." You pluck your translator off your ear for a moment, finding a little switch on the side to see if you can fiddle it on or off while someone else is talking.

"Okay, Ramon, can you tell me what a 'macro' is?" You say, putting your earpiece back in, ready to force-switch it on and off in the middle of Ramon talking.

The boy seems all too eager to launch into a tirade. "All of these godforsaken fockin' aliens treat us people like dirt!! or germs!! it's indescribable!! The entire -" {kzzt} "- Collective tends to be more than a little handsy in some ways that are quite a bit irresponsible. I honestly feel quite disrespected when Triploids or Kiddians or Lydiates try to carry us Sellans in their -" {kzzt} "- wretched cavernous pussies! Every fuckin' minute I'm off of a human colony world is another minute of Hell!! And the fetishists drool their brains dry all 'OoOOoO I love macros, aliens are sooo hot. I'm gonna get MaRrIeD to this betentacled nerd who treats me like a nipple stud.' FORGET IT!! If I'm gonna get abandoned on a cushion and left there overnight like I gotta survive the fuckin' Sahara, I might as well -" {kzzt} "-take it up with someone who has a modicum more tact and care when handling vulnerable individuals. Surely, Captain, you understand where I'm coming from, when I say that-" {kzzt} "-getting fucking STEPPED on in gross dusty toes is worse than-" {kzzt} "-virtually any other potential embarrassment this unpredictable universe tends to throw us humans. I'm going to complain to the Bureaucrats about this the next chance I get." {kzzt} "Am I fuckin' wrong, or what? What the hell are you starin' at?"

Ramon looks winded after that long rant.

"Oh, I was just testing something with the Translator. I don't think people are hearing you swear up a storm and complain so...verbosely...about the whole...macros and Nanokink...thing." You say.

"...I knew that." Ramon didn't know that.

"You're the Fourth Mate, right? So I guess you handle tactical decisions and plan out resource management, and stuff like that. Nice to meet you, Ramon. I'm Justine. I'm the new Captain. Hopefully folks will be a little nicer to you as long as I'm in charge. I'll do my best, so... do me a favor, and try to keep a lid on the temper, please! It's not healthy for you to get so heated like that."

Ramon blushes for a moment, putting his hat on to cover his eyes so he doesn't have to look so completely dumbstruck. "Y-yeah. Alright, Captain. Sure. I'll...work on it."

"Jynx, can you go put Ramon back? And don't take stuff from humans without asking, that's dangerous."

For once, Jynx actually seems deferent to your authority. "Oh! Uh, right away, Captain."

[Option #8: ID#009, the Navigator] [This sequence contains: Paws, slime]

"I wanna meet my Navigator." You say to Jynx.

"Roger that, Captain. Paging Poppy Lorde." Jynx hums to herself for a moment, then seems to remember something.

"Oh, Captain, I should tell you, before she arrives on the deck - she's got a chronic condition affecting Salmalkin. It's not contagious, but like...you know how normal Salmalkin look?"

"Uh, they're bluish-green, with red fur during certain parts of the year, with a generally fishlike appearance, right?"

"Right. Anyway, Poppy is bright pink with purple-ish hues and red fur. She's got a bubblegum-looking appearance, and she's a bit gooey all over. Her entire outer layer of blubber is composed of a non-Newtonian fluid that can dissolve and release oxygen."

"You mean she's made of breathable goo?" You blink.

"Yyyyeah, more or less." Jynx seems apprehensive. Maybe she just doesn't want to get into the technical details.

"What even causes a condition like that?"

"It's an environmental thing. Salmalkin bodies adapt to swim in many different places. Even ones that aren't water."

The elevator door opens. Poppy strolls in and hops up onto one of the tables to the side of the room and lays down on it.

"Hi Poppy!" You say.

"Hiya Captain. Sorry if I seem out of sorts. I've been bored stiff parked here waiting for ya. The ship's way more fun than a stuffy campus space-station. We've got foosball tables aboard." She's a bit irreverent, and gives off the impression of a slacker.

"Well! We're launching tomorrow! So get excited for that! And you're navigating, right? So I hope I can count on you." You say, tilting your head a little bit.

"Count on me?" Poppy seems to perk up, and approaches your chair, lifting a paw over you. It drips a long string of sticky, viscous goop that makes contact with you before she lifts it up and gets you stuck to her front pawtoes. She flips her paw over to get a good look at you.

"Count on me? Wow. I can't remember the last time someone talked down to me like that. You're real spirited for a girl smaller than a sprinkle, huh? Well, lookie here. I'm the champ round these parts. I keep the ship from running into meteors or black holes on the outside, and I keep brats and jocks from thinking they've got the run of the place on the inside."

She claps her front paws together and pulls a string of goop out between them. You're stuck in the middle as it slowly thins and droops the further apart her paws get from each other. You can't exactly speak when you're swimming in her pawgoop. You also sincerely don't want to breathe it, but the longer she talks, the harder it gets to hold your breath until you gasp in. Her slime fills your lungs, and as gross as it is to have the thickness of it in you, it's definitely entirely breathable.

Poppy keeps talking. "We can play ball, you and I. We're both in the business of giving orders and knowing better than everybody else, right? So we're going to call it a competition. I might not have the know-how to be a captain, but that's fine, 'cuz that's not what I want anyway. How about this - If you win and one-up me in whatever contests I toss your way, Captain Dotgirl, I'll get you vacay reservations to the most exclusive resort hotspots in the galaxy. I'll pay for your media subscription services. I'll shove your bullies in lockers. But if I win, I'll add "Toegoop Sniffer" to your list of responsibilities and roles aboard the ship, yeah?"

She rolls the long, stretched string of gooey gum between her front paws, spinning you like cotton candy. Finally, she flexes the digits on her front paw again, and you drip out of her pawslime and back into your seat, mostly dry aside from the fact that you feel sticky all over. You're at least grateful Poppy's pink stuff doesn't cling to your hair.

"What kind of offer is that? I'm the Captain, I don't have to do anything you say if I don't want to, you know." You retort, but Poppy seems unconvinced.

"Oh! Well. I guess 5-star hot springs aren't your thing, huh? What is, I wonder." The fishcat seems to be trying to attach a value to you with her eyes.

"Come back to me when you figure it out. Until then, I! am going to talk to someone else on the crew manifest and try to feel a little less covered in bubblegum." You cross your arms. You try to think about your hobbies for a second and actually consider something you would be willing to risk contesting Poppy over.

Well, you liked anime and games, and you also were a pretty decent climber and hiker. You liked plushies, too, you guess. But there wasn't really anything you really wanted so much you would go for some kind of vapid ego contest like that. ...except maybe...that one thing. That one really embarrassing thing. Ehehehe...yeah...maybe that. But you were definitely never going to let her hear you say it, and definitely not where anyone else could hear it.

Poppy goes over to her own seat. She occasionally steals daring and competitive glances at you. She's pretty cute aside from her desire to prove she's better than you for some reason.

[Option #9: ID#011, the Chief Bosun] [This sequence contains: Thighs]

"Can I talk with 11? The...Bosun?" You struggle to remember much more than the top few lines of the crew list, even after just having looked at it.

"Yeah. Just so you know, there's like, a quartermaster and a bosun for every section of the ship, basically. The Chief Bosun is just in charge of all of them." Jynx goes right ahead and pages Jora to come up.

She arrives within the minute, and instantly swings herself into her chair without looking at you first.

"Hi! Nice to meet you!" You start.

"Skylor, right? I'm Jora. I'm the one who built the ship. A fortress of my design."

"Oh, really? That's kind of impressive-!" You look around and try to picture Jora working on all this stuff with her paws. It always astonishes you how dexterous quadrupedal aliens like her can be sometimes.

"I had help. I'll introduce ya to the Bosun's Mates when I feel like it."

"That's not your chair." Jynx interjects.

"Oh, isn't it?" Jora seems to take it as a challenge. "I installed the things. They swivel cuz I said so. But suddenly they're not mine just 'cuz someone else sits in it?"

"That's the way assigned seats works, yes."

"Hah!! Fine. How about this one, then?" Jora hops up and approaches your seat. She throws herself into it with a huff. She seems almost to disregard your presence between her huge thighs until she crosses her legs and you find yourself rolled between her haunches.

"That's the Captain's seat." Jynx doesn't seem to be mad so much as playing along.

"Aw, please! We can share." Jora squeezes you tighter. Your miniature-scale Captain's room-setup on the chair is thankfully spared, but you are rubbed up and down across Jora's massive, smooth, somewhat slick thighs.

"Don't hug me with your legs so tight, if you're going to insist that-!" You protest, trying and failing to push the unyieldingly thick heft of Jora's thigh off of you.

Jora complies immediately and spreads herself out, letting you fall back into your small-seat and catch your breath some. She chuckles, seeming to savor your reactions. "Sorry! I get a little...'handsy' sometimes. I can't help but hug what I love, and I adore humans." She flutters her star-shaped eyes at you.

It's difficult to think of something to say back when the gap between Jora's thighs has been absolutely steamy with her body's warmth since she approached you.

"W-w-well!! A-at least ask for permission the next time you want to s-share, okay?" You stutter, trying and failing to keep yourself from blushing. Dangit. It was way too easy to flirt with you.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll keep it in mind. Mind if I sit here a while longer?"

"Uh, g-go ahead?"

Jora got up, though, and sat in a third chair. "Nah, I changed my mind. We're launching tomorrow, so everybody's running around pecking at me to do stuff. I'd rather play when I've got a free evening. If I wanna kill some time, I wanna kill hours of it all at once. You go do your thing and call up whoever else you wanna meet in the officers."

"Oh, yeah, good point. Good point."

"Don't say 'good point', that's letting her win. Don't just roll over and let her give you thigh-hugs whenever she wants to." Jynx is invested.

"Yeah, Captain. Don't just roll over and take it. It's more fun for me if you fight and squirm."

Well, now you don't know what to think.

[Option #10: ID#018, whose role name escapes me] [This sequence contains: implied violence, threatened violence/gore.]

"Is #18 important?" You ask. You genuinely can't even remember looking at the crew manifest any more. The mere thought of that exhaustively long list makes you want to curl up and sleep.

Jynx tries to auto-complete your poor understanding of the crew list. "Well...#17 is the Bulkhead Bosun, but #18 is the Airlock Specialist. They're not really an officer, so I dunno if they're necessarily -"

"Oh, yeah, call them up here! The Airlock Specialist handles the airlock, so if I ever end up in space, I'd wanna know I can trust whoever's at the door." You cut her off immediately.

"...Yeah, okay. Let's see...#18 is... oh geez. Chemisier Avaleur." Jynx winces and presses the call button on her chair anyway.

Twelve seconds pass. The door to the elevator slams open. You weren't even aware it could slam open. A premonition of death wafts in, and Chemisier steps into the bridge shortly after.

"Hello! It's nice to meet you!" You greet her. She doesn't respond, instead looking at Jynx and nodding her head.

"Yeah, I'll tell her." Jynx says, then pulls up a document on the big monitor. "Ahem. First of all, I'd like to state that Chemisier is a Rasqué, whose primary characteristics are a lifespan somewhere in the ballpark of eight months, and a fantastic cross-generational cultural memory. You shouldn't have to worry about it for a while, considering Chemisier is middle-aged, but somewhere around four months from now Chemisier's progeny will seemlessly replace her and most of us won't be able to tell the difference. That is, if not for her...appearance." Jynx mimes a black eye.

"Uh? What do you mean?" You're mostly just trying to be polite. You weren't going to mention the weird eye, actually.

"Hooo...well. This document here is a Bureaucracy-issued Class E Restriction on Chemisier Avaleur. Quote, 'Following the incident on 3-22-13-9010' (so, about 44 days ago), 'Chemisier Avaleur is barred from interaction with the following species: Vyrmkin, Nezumites, Humans, and Salmalkin. This restriction shall remain in place until such time as Chemisier has been rehabilitated.' That's what it says." Jynx reads it with something of a distraught look on her face.

"Oh. Well, Chemisier, you might not be able to interact with me directly, but...I won't tell anybody if you talk out loud while I happen to be in earshot. I'm still happy to have you as a part of the crew!"

The mouse-snouted alien seems to ponder this for a minute. Finally, she speaks. Her voice is raspy and stressful to listen to.

"I handle the airlocks. I like them. They're cold. The job is easy. I don't have to talk to anyone. I don't like small little freaks that get in the way. I had a different job before this one. I got removed from that job and put on this ship because they told me it was bad to try and flatten the little freaks into tattoos for getting in the way. I got in a fight. I won."

"Yyyyes...thanks, Avaleur. You can go now." Jynx is eager to not be in the same room as Chemisier as soon as possible.

"Whoa whoa! Jynx, you mean Chemisier tried to crush humans and some other folks, too? What's that about-?" You lean out of your chair a little bit. You feel like you ought to know.

Chemisier answers first. "Body paint is chic. Humans would be...better as smears." She growls.

Jynx has already pressed the call button on her chair and is murmuring a command to it. "Can we get someone from security up to the bridge to detain Avaleur? I really don't think she should be in the same room as the captain."

"No!" You chastise. "I don't get it, what would possess you to do that? We should all get along here-!" You weren't sure if you were talking to Jynx or Chemisier at this point. Maybe both of them.

"Khehehe..." Chemisier stalks forward with a hoarse little giggle. "You're...an interesting bug. It's so hard to even think of most of you as people. You're just...skittering things. You actually seem to think enough to be able to surprise me. I can't decide... Whether I want to bite down on you to see what happens. Or. put you in this awful, restrictive dive suit they stuck me in and see how long it takes to turn you into a stamp."

She's almost upon you now. You're more than a little tempted to hide behind your chair, but you remain firm and stare directly into Chemisier's eyes. It's odd how passionate and bright they seem when they're so obviously messed up from fights.

"You really shouldn't talk to me that way. I'm the Captain, so I have to look out for everyone. That includes you, too." You're scared, but you don't move a muscle.

Chemisier leers down at you with a snarl. "KHAHAHA!!! ARE YOU KIDDING!? MY SISTER EATS YOU LITTLE FREAKS FOR BREAKFAST!"

Jynx taps the call button again. "Bring the sleep-gun. Step on it."

You remain firm, and speak as clearly as you can. You can feel sweat on your forehead. "I don't think you want to hurt people. I think you're just saying that to be scary." You have to admit, she is more than a little scary, especially when her face towers over you so high you have to crane your neck to look her in the eyes.

"YOU LITTLE PUNK. I COULD CRUSH YOU FASTER THAN YOU COULD BLINK. YOU WOULD COME OUT IN THE WASH AND NOTHING WOULD BE LEFT."

"So what? Anyone could do that! I'm still here, though, aren't I?"

Chemisier continues drooling and grimacing. You can feel every rage-filled breath wash over you.

Nevertheless, several seconds pass, and you lose your patience having her in your personal space like this.

"What are you waiting for? If you wanted to hurt me, you would have done something already! Either do something or...or fuck off, and quit fogging up my glasses!" You squeak.

Chemisier remains in place for a second, then her crazed expression practically falls off of her face, and she stands back up and takes a few steps back. She looks just as bored and deathly tired as she did when she walked in. She sits on the floor and lets out a throaty sigh.

"...You said your name was Skylor during your speech. I'll remember that. Let's talk again, some other time. I've been having a bad year."

Just then, a few security guards appeared from the auxiliary elevator. They burst into the room and fired some beam at Chemisier. You didn't really even get a good look at them, they were so fast.

The villainess of a Rasqué fell forward, landing on her face and appeared immediately groggy. She sighed. "I'll be seeing you...Captain." She quickly passed out and got hauled off, leaving you in silence once more.

"Never do that again." Jynx stared at you gravely.

"I'll do whatever I want, I'm in charge." You shoot back.

You have no idea what possessed you to do all that. But somehow, you feel proud of yourself for trying.

[Option 11: ID#024, who I seem to remember being important] [This sequence contains: Utter nonsense.]

"...You know, I kind of want to know who the head doctor on the ship is." You say.

"No you don't." Jynx contradicts you. She seems utterly confident in herself.

"Yeah I do. Call the head doctor up to the bridge. I figure they're just as important as anybody else on the ship. Can't do our jobs if we're sick."

"Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you." Jynx taps the call button on her chair. "Hey, Lieutenant Bitwise, can you send up-"

The elevator door opens before Jynx finishes. On it stands a weirdo quadrupedal alien in a kigurumi...?

"Who's this?" You ask.

"-Nevermind Lieutenant, he's here already." Jynx finishes on the call. "Yeah, I have no idea why/how Dr. Inkblood got here before I finished asking for him."

You try to place the look on his face. Is it a smile? A grimace? It's weird, but for how expressive he looks, he seems to be in an entirely neutral mood.

"Nice to meet you, Doctor! Care to tell me about yourself?"

Dr. Inkblood speaks up in a light and boyish voice. "Yeap. I'm Ed." He puts a forepaw to the side of his head, and then starts talking again, in a voice that sounds exactly like Jynx's. "That's Ed Inkblood, he's the Head Doctor. He's a Kawaigu, a species whose main population isn't in space yet technically. The spacefaring ones are neurodivergent and are called Sillymanders. They're a bit unpredictable, so try to be patient. Despite whatever first impression he leaves you with, I can give you my assurance that Ed's a trained and experienced medical professional. We don't know why, but he sat through med school with perfect attendance and behavior in a way that seems entirely uncharacteristic of the short attention spans of his ilk. We aren't sure what his game is, but he tends to go missing and be hard to find once he boards the ship until you need him for something. We don't know where he goes, to be honest." Ed finishes impersonating Jynx and then blinks very slowly at you.

You turn to look at Jynx. She seems just as dumbfounded as you are. "That's more or less what I would have said, yeah."

You turn back to Dr. Inkblood. He's six feet closer than before, even though you didn't hear him walk closer.

"Well, I hope we get along, doctor!"

"Hey, what's that?" He points behind you.

You turn to look, and Dr. Inkblood is standing on the opposite side of the room in the place that he was pointing to. Well, that's confusing. He taps a button on the far console and pulls up a diagram on the room's big monitor. It's a simplified model of the human brain, rendered in a scribbly, low-detail manner. It's colored in sloppily, and signed "Ed Inkblood" in perfect English cursive at the bottom.

Inkblood produces a yardstick from behind his back - hang on, that's the same yardstick Lieutenant Bitwise had earlier - and points to a small node highlighted in blue around the lower center of the brain. "Captain, this is the amygdala. It's an almond-sized thing that you need to turn short-term memory into long-term memory, and it also does something involving decision-making and emotional responses, probably." He circles it with the yardstick. "Neurological anatomy varies greatly between species, but in humans like you, this is our very important culprit."

"Culprit? What's this lecture about?" You ask.

"Neurocognitive biases responsible for the demonstration of a single instance of the Mere Exposure Coincidence and/or Nanokink Effect." Ed rattles off the answer like you just asked him what he had for breakfast this morning.

"Eh?"

Ed puts a paw to the side of his head, and speaks in a voice that sounds almost identical to yours. "Oh! I get it! You're the type of person who likes to give a gift to the new Captain by giving them a salient biology lecture that potentially affects their tenure!"

"...Is that prescriptive?" You ask. You're not sure how you feel about having words put in your mouth.

Ed uses his normal voice for a moment. "No, this is prescriptive." And then he launches right back into it. "In six days, I'm going to go to bed with a Blood Alcohol Level of .14 because I don't know I can't handle a Moscow Mule yet!"

"What's a Moscow Mule?" You ask.

"Don't worry about it." Jynx replies.

Ed whaps the big monitor with the yardstick to get your attention again and resumes his lecture in his regular voice. "This part of your squishy brains is the culprit. The novelty of encountering entirely new and unfamiliar specimens in-person freaks out your amygdala, and causes it to falsely allocate a disproportionate amount of short-term memory to long-term very rapidly. Neurochemically speaking, it's an extremely emotional process, so you perceive the flood of hormones, oxytocin, and dopamine as a 'Love at First Sight' phenomenon. You implicitly trust aliens you meet in-person much faster than you might unfamiliar people. This is a cognitive bias that will put you in dangerous situations if you're unprepared. Hey look behind you what's that?"

You turn around. Ed is miraculously behind you. He's got a chainsaw. He revs it menacingly. You flinch instinctively just because of how loud and scary chainsaws are, but Dr. Inkblood just seems to be trying to make a point along the lines of 'you turned your back on someone you just met?' and you're not entirely sure how effectively the message comes across when he seems to defy all logic. You get the impression you're supposed to turn back around again, and so you turn back around to look at the big monitor again. Sure enough, Ed's at the big monitor again somehow.

The slideshow has progressed to a drawing of several other alien species, with the same drawing of a human brain superimposed on their heads. The brain drawing now has a fish tail or a plant stem or various other doodles sticking out of it depending on the alien species in question.

"So as I was saying, you will trust others when you meet them in-person more easily than they might deserve. Be aware of this bias, obviously." Ed smacks one of the drawings on the monitor with the yardstick. All their expressions change to look frustrated with him. This would be an impressive magic trick, but it's a touch-responsive hologram projected on glass, so you're not impressed. "But we're talking about a Coincidence, Captain. So keep in mind that even though others have differently shaped brains than you, that run on plant or fish oil, they still experience some version of this same thing. It just works differently in its nitty-gritty mechanics. Others will develop a crush on you when they meet you in person, too. This may be dangerous for you for entirely different reasons. Also, this particular Coincidence has its effects magnified when encountering multiple individuals at once, so anyone who's ever encountered a crowd of humans at once will have experienced a much stronger version of this phenomenon. We call it 'the Nanokink Effect' when an individual demonstrates a romantic or sexual attraction to all humans following an encounter with a crowd of them." He clears his throat. "There is a 78% Nanokink saturation among crewmates of the Rampant Lovelander. In other words, 3 out of 4 of your crewmates have a fetish for your presence. Sun Tzu says know the enemy and yourself and you need not fear the result of a hundred battles."

"Who the heck is Sun Tzu?" Jynx asks.

"Who IS Sun Tzu?" Ed blinks slowly, then sticks out his tongue and winks.

"..." You stare at Dr. Ed Inkblood for what feels like the longest four seconds of your life. He's completely goofy, arguably a liability for how bizarre he acts. Yet you can't seem to shake the feeling that he's the smartest person in the room by a country mile, and not just because of the medical degree. "I think I get what you're trying to say. I'll keep that in mind, thanks." You sigh. You were admittedly sort of hoping the ship's head doctor would be a curvy nurse-looking type.

"Yeap. Here's my number. Use it if you ever need me to make a 'house call'. Fair warning: it's completely normal if it goes to voicemail."

The slide on the big monitor flips to read: Dr. Ed Inkblood M.D. Channel: MERL Line: NVR-7RU5T

"Yeah got it, thanks!" You say. "Nice to meet you, Doctor!"

You think you've got a handle on how this works now. You turn around to look at the elevator. Yup, he's there already somehow.

"Yep. Don't stay up late tonight! Go straight to bed, yeap. You'll thank me in the morning, yeap."

And down the elevator he goes.

You turn around. Ed is back at the big monitor. He grabs the yardstick out from under the desk. "Sorry, I forgot this on my way out."

Your palm hits your face. You take it back. This guy's a doofus.

~~~

After talking to all the officers, you and Jynx agree to call it a day. You're able to navigate the Lovelander better than you initially expect. There's a system of human-scale walkways along the walls with escalators that move and make navigating the ship way faster than your walking speed.

You get lost at least a little, but eventually you manage to find your way to Dorm #004, the Captain's Quarters. It's sized for normal aliens, but you find the floor has many segmented platforms for your access and ease. It's surprisingly easy to navigate a bedroom for someone thousands of times your size.

Atop the pillow, there's a cozy mattress-suite bigger than a king-size to you. It's actually rather stable on the pillow, and you are able to get comfortable pretty easily. You suppose this miniature setup meant for you is another gift from the Head Engineer, in all likelihood. You get the Computer to turn off the lights and try to get to sleep.

An hour passes, but you're still awake. It's difficult to get to sleep when you're this excited and anxious. For whatever reason, you feel like you need to...talk to someone. Confide. Hug? You don't know.

You think about it. Finally, you come to a decision. You're gonna invite someone to your room.

"Let's go meet the crew, I guess! I oughta know the folks who are letting me be their captain." You say.

Jynx and Bitwise exchange a nervous glance.

"Oh, uh, am I gonna have to be carried over there?"

"Sure! The Lovelander (and all cruisers built for multiple species accommodation) have walkways for humans installed, and we were working on that on Academy Station, too, but I like carrying you around, you know!" Jynx smirks and thuds a paw near you on the table.

You sigh. Off you go again... ---

Eighteen minutes later, Jynx drops you off in front of a podium. It's not quite your size, so you hop up on top of it with a little bit of climbing and sit on the top of it. The mic from this position is basically at your level, now. You're aware there are plenty of "smaller" species in the Collective - like some that are a bit smaller than earth mice - but this seems more like someone got the units wrong on a podium that was meant for humans.

The podium is at the top of a ramp, giving you a very good view of the crowd in front of you at the bottom of the ramp. Jynx, to your side, has adjusted a holographic screen and camera so that your image is projected onto the side of the immense metal wall behind you. Which, you suppose, must be the side of the Rampant Lovelander, the ship you're meant to be the captain of. You can't even really fathom the scale of it. Even the crowd at the bottom of the ramp seems far away. It's easy to feel lonely at this size.

The crowd consists of so many various species of alien you struggle to really process their appearances as a whole unit. Nevertheless, you do get good vibes from them on the whole. You know that might just be a symptom of mere exposure, but you decided to be optimistic.

[Footnote: As a reminder] [One of the cosmic coincidences frequently observed in interstellar society acts as an extension of the "Mere Exposure" effect. That is, Intelligent aliens of differing body types tend to perceive each other to be “cute”, and develop positive feelings towards them very rapidly when meeting face to face. This recurs and increases in potency when exposed to many individuals at the same time. In other words, it would be rather unusual if Captain Justine *didn't* like the crew.

To put it another way: Welcome to space, prepare to develop a crush on every alien species you meet.]

"Hi everybody! I'm Justine Skylor, and I'll be your new captain! I know it might be a little surprising to see your new Captain's a human, but I hope we all get along! I might be a small gal, but I'll still work super hard to keep things in tip-top shape! Let's all do our best!"

You give a friendly wave. About half of the crowd returns the wave back. You turn to your other side, where your co-captain is standing at attention, doing his best not to look embarrassed about taking orders from a speck.

"Lieutenant Mads Bitwise here will be our co-captain! Please be nice to him, okay? He's got more experience than I do, so don't be afraid to turn to him if you need anything! Lieutenant, if you wouldn't mind briefing the crew on our mission?"

"Oh! Uh, right." Lt. Bitwise begins re-iterating the speech detailing the mission you'd heard in the conference room. In the meantime, you take a moment to check out the ship's dossier, as well as its crew listing and the short file on your assignment.

You decide to glance over the ship's dossier first.

It appears this is a non-combat cruiser. It's got two big interchangeable canisters on the sides, which are changed out when the ship's mission requires more storage or higher firepower, or more crewmate dorms, or whatever else it needs. This is a cross-galactic non-combat mission, so currently it looks like the cans are both basically just storage and crewmate dorms. You resist the temptation to look at the map for now.

Huh, this dossier even has the ship's flag in it. It's a frogman of some sort wearing socks and loafers in a gallivanting pose on a field of azure.

Oh no, did you get assigned to a joke vessel -

Well, you stop looking at the ship's documentation. You have all the time in the world to look at it later, and Mads is like, halfway through the mission briefing. Let's see here...

You look at the crew manifest. You decide not to look at the names or species data for right now, and just look down the list of roles. How many crewmates do you have on this ship, anyway? 20? 30? maybe even 40?

NOPE!!! Your eyes slide off this enormous list of unmemorizable nonsense almost immediately. You barely make it to your crew number - 4 - before you can't even bring yourself to stare at this intimidating and horrible document any longer. 232 crewmates! That's unreasonable.

Maybe you'll get Jynx to help you pick out just the most important ones later.

Okay, let's just glance at the mission briefing again.

Wow, it's way more digestible this way. Still no explanations for why all of these things are called that, though.

Okay, okay. You tune back in just in time for Mads to get done with his briefing.

You turn towards the crowd again, pleased that their attention no longer seems to be solely on you. They're all looking off to the side instead - at - oh no wait that's where the screen where you are is. They're ALL looking at the close-up cam of you sitting on the podium. When did they all start paying so much attention to you?? Was it while Mads was giving his briefing? Were they bored...or fascinated-?

"Ahem! Would the head officers join me and Jynx aboard the top deck? Mads, can you handle organized boarding for the remaining crew? There's like, well over a hundred of all you folks, so I've gotta get acquainted in a more controlled space, I think."

"R-Right, of course, Captain!" Bitwise replies.

Jynx picks you up and sits you on her hat brim this time as she boards the ship.

---

You love the atmosphere on here. The Lovelander has a really rustic, authentic feel. A lot of space stations can feel a bit sterile, but you appreciate how lived-in this space feels. It's spacious, too - and not just in the way that every place is spacious for someone at your size.

Jynx takes a few detours, it feels like - wandering through halls and offices before making a turn into a huge atrium space and getting on a big elevator to the Navigation Deck. There, you're acquainted with the Captain's chair.

Rather than a cushion, the entire thing is elevated to a pretty dignified chamber-space. You suppose that, since you'll be spending a bunch of time on the bridge, without the ability to hop out of your chair and head back downstairs to the same capacity as others, you instead have everything you could need provided here. There's a human-scale captain's chair, a pantry, a table and office cubicle, a sofa and a pretty modern 3d-display TV-thing, and a private room with a shower, plus a walk-in closet and a bunch of other amenities. Plus, it's not exposed, only the front room with the you-sized captain's chair and the desk is. So you do have some degree of privacy in certain parts of it.

Oh yeah. It's all coming together now.

After your ride against Jynx’ pawtoes, you breathe a sigh of relief, glad to be done with the impromptu carrying for now. You were finding yourself a passenger on people’s bodies quite often, it seemed.

You dust your uniform off and readjust your hat, glad to pat off your new cool Captain’s badge. With your disheveled appearance remedied, you stood at attention on the conference room table, which was about as good as you were going to get to being eye level with folks. Director Jynx took one of the nearby swivel chairs.

“It’s a bit odd that the Lieutenant isn’t here. Usually he’s so punctual.” Jynx murmurs, swiping her paw across the table to swipe a mug of coffee clearly intended for someone else.

Just then, the door thuds open, and a broad Elven man strides in. He was fully six foot tall, meaning that he handily towers over even Jynx. ‘even’ Jynx. You remind yourself that Jynx, who seemed so immense to you, was barely the size of a housecat.

The Lieutenant’s boots clunk as he makes his way to the front of the table. He apparently doesn’t need a chair. His voice was oaky and refined.

“Ah, Director, you’re here. I don’t suppose you brought the new captain with you? A late arrival is highly atypical.”

“You can just call me Jynx, pal~”

“It’s…erm.” He seems thrown off by her. His stoic demeanor is back in an instant, though. “To show proper respect for you and your station is simply regular protocol, Director. I hope you don’t find that to be out of line. But more to the point – You did tell Miss Skylor the right room, yes?”

“Oh, I remember what I forgot to do now.” Jynx clicks her tongue.

“You’re kidding. You mean our captain is off in who-knows-where-!” He clearly put some energy into resisting slamming his fist to the table. Instead, he merely tents his fingers on it. Directly covering you, in fact. Now you couldn’t see his face past his palm.

“I forgot to tell you! The Captain is already here! I must have assumed you already knew she was a Sellan, huhuhu.” She chuckles.

“I. What?” The Lieutenant freezes. You couldn’t see the expression on his face, but you could tell he was completely dumbfounded.

“Director!!! You forgot to tell my co-captain I’m a human-!?” You squeak.

The Elf lurches backwards from the table like he’s just been bitten. His eyes search the tabletop for a moment before finding you. Sure enough, you’d never seen a boy look that completely and utterly stricken before. The stern face you saw when he walked in was gone; he looks like a kicked puppy.

You give a shy little wave.

He bows so low you swore if you jumped you could touch his forehead. He stands back up at attention and begins speaking, finding it difficult to make eye contact.

“It is, ah, a pleasure to meet you, Captain Skylor. I apologize immensely for my error-!”

“I thought it was funny.” Jynx says.

“Ahem. I’m Lt. Mads Bitwise. Collective Expeditions, Second Division. And long-time co-captain of the CSC Rampant Lovelander – the ship that will soon be yours for the foreseeable future.”

“Hi! Nice to meet you, Lt. Bitwise! If you don’t mind me asking, if you’ve been the co-cap of it for so long, why don’t you take over the head position?” You ask.

“I guess I’m just sentimental. I do my best work taking orders. The co-captain’s chair is so used to me by now it’s practically got my initials in it. It would feel…wrong…to disrupt the flow of the vessel and put myself in a position of responsibility I wouldn’t be used to.” Mads says.

“Never passed the piloting or nursing exams required for a captain’s badge, more like. Poor Mads has got nerves like wet grass in a windstorm.” Jynx snickers.

“What’s this mission I’ve heard about?” You ask.

“Right, well! The Lovelander is a cruiser intended for exploration and domestic missions.” Mads sets a hologram to the projector, it appearing in 3D behind him. He deploys a yardstick that he must have been carrying behind his back this whole time as he points at parts of the space diagram in midair.

“In short, a few weeks ago, our old captain retired. This mission is rather pedestrian, so the previous captain left it incomplete on purpose so you could cut your teeth on it.” He points to a corner of the galaxy amidst the hologram.

“This section of space, here, is on the opposite side of this galaxy. Colloquially, it’s known as The Dryer. It’s distant enough that the veil of the nearby nebula blocks most visual past it. However, a surveillance probe recently got a good angle around it, and we believe there’s an uncharted solar system over there worth examination and evaluation as a possible future colony site.”

“Oh, going to unexplored space, neat!” You say, trying to tilt your head and look at the hologram from a different angle. Jynx puts a paw near you and helps you figure out how to produce a version that’s more on your scale while the Lieutenant keeps talking.

“Precisely. Minimal danger expected, a nice interesting bit of bureaucratic mail-checking to get you used to the captain’s seat. Step One: We take the Lovelander to this planet, here.” He indicates a planet that seems to be covered in bright, sunny seas and beaches. “Designation AG-678-S, though locals call it Spidertopia.”

You suddenly jolt to attention. “WHY do they call it Spidertopia…?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jynx says simply.

“There’s some vital crewmates vacationing there we need to collect before the rest of our voyage. Anyway, once we’ve got them, our next stop is this space station here – CA-899-SW.” He points with the yardstick to a ring populated by cities and forests surrounding a star like a halo. “Of course, everybody just calls it Stripworld.”

You nearly spit-take in shock. “WHY do they call it Stripworld!?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jynx says simply.

“We’ll be meeting up with a combat fleet there, who will be escorting us through the center of the galaxy and past the Mauler Deathfleet.”

“WHY is it called the Mauler Deathfleet.”

Jynx raises her eyebrows at you. That’s the most helpful answer you’re going to receive, apparently.

“Once we’re past there, we are to check in at this colony planet, here, and verify our safe passage. It’s G8-0TT3R. You can just call it Gator-Otter, though. And then it’s a straight shot to The Dryer.” He puts the yardstick away. “Any questions?”

“Well I wasn’t curious before, but now I feel like I have to know. Why do they call it The Dryer?”

“I’ll tell you later.” Jynx says simply.

“Great! Shall I show you to the ship? The crew has been absolutely restless to meet their new captain.” Lt. Bitwise gives a calm, deliberate smile. If he didn't know, the rest of the crew probably has no idea you're a tiny human, either.

“Or you can board early and greet the crew after you’ve looked around the Lovelander. I’ve always been a fan of poking around spaceships while nobody’s in ‘em yet.” Jynx counter-offers.

“Oh, a choice. Gimme a minute to think... ” You start.

Option 1: Let's Go Meet the Crew! {To Chapter 3}

Oh no, you’re late…!

You buzz the door. You can do that remotely, which is good, because knocking on a door thousands of times your size sounds like an exercise in futility. For starters, you fit under the gap in the door. You can’t even reach that high.

The door clicks and slides open with a hurried slam. Thudding outward with quick, impatient pawsteps, Director Jynx stares down at you, her three eyes meeting your gaze almost instantly. “Well, howdy, Miss Skylor. We’ll have to walk and talk! We’re quite late, you and I!” She steps over you, her foot-high body quickly overtaking your sky. Just as suddenly as you realize what’s happening, one of her hind paws stretches out to catch you. You are instantly snagged and tucked deep between the Director’s toes. It’s disorienting, but a lot softer and more yielding than the bus. You wish you could see where the Director was going, but you’re a bit too flustered to tell her to stop.

Director Jynx begins her lecture as she walks, her words partially muffled to your ear on account of being buried in toes.

“You’re not in trouble, don’t worry! In fact, I’d fallen asleep at my desk. If not for you waking me up, I’d probably have missed our meeting entirely! I’ll keep this nice and brief. The Lieutenant downstairs has asked me to watch over your first voyage as Captain. Your situation isn’t exactly unprecedented, but it’s extremely uncommon, and taking the helm of a multi-member crew is quite difficult for anyone! Doubly so for someone as teeny-tiny as humans like you tend to be. I’m sure you’ll do great! But just in case, I’ll be there if you ever need to fall back on my expertise. Think of it like a driver’s test. You’re more than qualified in the social, engineering, navigational, and policy aspects necessary for a captain. But even the best of us can crack under pressure. And even I don’t know the exact nature of the mission you’re going on yet. It’s less of a job and more of an adventure!”

She picks up the pace, practically jogging. You try your best to listen to her, but your mind drifts a bit. You find yourself daydreaming for the possibility of what it might have been like to actually sit down with the Director and chat face-to-face. However, imagining the Director’s big and cute face just makes you more embarrassed, so that doesn’t help.

“But I’m getting ahead of myself! I’ve taken the liberty of mailing a ‘regular’ sized copy of your Captain’s Certification to the Lieutenant, so it should already be aboard the ship. But your primary copy is suited for human size! I’m pretty sure I was holding on to it…in the paw I’m holding you with right now, actually! See if you can find it down there for me! We don’t have to do that ‘I hereby recognize you as Captain 3rd class’ stuff. The bureaucratic silliness got handled weeks ago.”

It's dark and you’re constantly rubbed on either side by smooth fur and soft paw pad, but you’re able to shove your way through, if only barely. After things settle down for the slightest moment (likely because Jynx is on an elevator or something…) you’re able to find enough footing to look around your perch between the Grey’s toes, spotting a small round pin buried more or less right next to you, easily within reach. You quickly nab it and fasten it to your hat so you don’t lose it, and for that matter hold on to your hat as tight as you can as Jynx starts jogging down the halls again. The whole experience is like a hot, dark earthquake.

It’s important to note that spacefaring species when meeting their fellow astronauts of different species for the first time experience attraction via the mere exposure effect. And, well, there was a LOT of the Director. She was a lot even when she wasn’t clutching you like a lint mote under her tread. She was a Grey, so her species was one of the founding members of the Collective. They wound up in a lot of administrative and bureaucratic power seats. The fact that Jynx was essentially your mentor’s mentor’s mentor just made this entire ordeal all the more humiliating.

Nevertheless, you manage to speak up, if only to let the Director know she hadn’t dropped you. “U-uh, Director, I took my badge-!”

“Oh!! Don’t worry, Miss Skylor. I can feel you just fine, I promise! In fact, all your wiggling around tucked in my paw is getting me quite ticklish. And I’m going to have to ask you to calm down and keep your hands and feet inside my toegap for a little while longer. It’s quite difficult enough already just messaging the Lieutenant to let him know we’re on our way. I don’t want to also have to worry about going back because I dropped you in the middle of the hall! Whew. Thankfully, you’re quite safe with me!”

As she says that, she squeezes her toes, the cinch of her digits its own form of colossal hug. It’s an effortless flex that nevertheless only furthers the totally dumb crush you have on the Director. You really, really hope she doesn’t know how flustered you are about and around her.

“Okay, almost there! I’m going to run for this next part. Hold on, Miss Skylor. I wouldn’t want to drop you~.”

Yep, you're perfectly on time!

You buzz the door. You can do that remotely, which is good, because knocking on a door thousands of times your size sounds like an exercise in futility. For starters, you fit under the gap in the door. You can’t even reach that high.

A minute passes, then the door clicks and slides open. Looming above, Director Jynx stares down at you, her three eyes meeting the dot on her floor quickly. She blinks in recognition, then smiles at you. “Well, howdy, Miss Skylor. Please, come in. I’ll show you to my desk.” She reaches down, one of her front paws stretching out to surround you. Her front digits spread just enough to grab you, and you’re carried in the Director’s front pawtoes as she walks. It’s disorienting, but a lot softer and more yielding than the bus.

You’re dropped in the middle of the floor, and Jynx pulls a foot-high stool to her side, leaning against it as she speaks. You stare up at her, a monolith only a few inches ahead of you, but she feels like a mountain on the horizon.

It’s important to note that spacefaring species when meeting their fellow astronauts of different species for the first time experience attraction via the mere exposure effect. And, well, there was a LOT of the Director for you to look at. She was a Grey, so her species was one of the founding members of the Collective. They wound up in a lot of administrative and bureaucratic power seats. So, you tried your best not to blush or stammer as you addressed the lady who was essentially your mentor’s mentor’s mentor.

“Uh, I brought all my graduation paperwork, Director Jynx!” You held out the tinier-than-tiny paper with a little bow. You were bowing mostly to avoid eye contact.

Jynx chuckled and rested one of her…elbows, you suppose, on the stool. It was more of a table. Greys were “only” about a foot or so tall, so much of the office was low to the ground. It still loomed over you, though.

“That won’t be necessary, dear. I left my microscopes at home. I’ve got my own copy right here. I appreciate the courtesy, though, hun!” She lay a stack of papers down in front of you. Each layer of it was your height. It was like she’d just dropped a whole plateau in front of you. You didn’t even get a chance to think about how you could hollow out the stack of papers and fit a shopping mall in it before she plucked it up as effortlessly as she’d put it in front of you. “Try not to look so nervous, keheheheh.”

Shit. Now you were definitely blushing.

“I’m sure you’ve got a busy schedule, so I’ll keep this nice and brief. The Lieutenant downstairs has asked me to… ‘supervise’, as it were, your first voyage as Captain of that cruiser. Your situation isn’t exactly unprecedented, but it’s extremely uncommon, and taking the helm of a multi-member crew is quite difficult for anyone! Doubly so for someone as teeny-tiny as humans like you tend to be. I’m sure you’ll do great! But just in case, I’ll be there if you ever need to fall back on my expertise. Think of it like a driver’s test. You’re more than qualified in the social, engineering, navigational, and policy aspects necessary for a captain. But even the best of us can crack under pressure. And even I don’t know the exact nature of the mission you’re going on yet. It’s less of a job and more of an adventure!”

You nod along, trying to keep your balance as Jynx jostles one of her hind legs restlessly.

“But, I digress! I’ve taken the liberty of mailing a ‘regular’ sized copy of your Captain’s Certification to the Lieutenant, so it should already be aboard the ship. But, that’s not as fun as having a badge you can flash at people. So, your primary copy is suited for human size. Here you are! Once you accept this from me, you’ll be a Starship Captain, 3rd class. The rest comes with experience! It’s a lot of responsibility for a little thing. You ready for it?”

You nod nervously. You realize with a brief shudder of horror that the paw she’s holding your badge in is the same hind paw that’s been hopping in place during her whole speech.

“Y-Yes Director! I-I’m ready!”

“Great! Come get it, then.” She cheers, her tone delightfully playful.

“O-of course! I’ll…” You step closer, and closer…walking for a minute or so, you realize that you’re not quite getting to her paw as fast as you’d like. In fact, after another minute of walking, Jynx stretches her hind paw out to you. It draws close enough to dwarf any human-scale building you’ve ever seen. The closer you walk, the more the curvature of her toes feels less like a wall and more like a ceiling. Your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest as you approach the tip of one of her digits. Finally, your arms shaking, you reach out and nab the small silvery pin from betwixt the goliath toes of your superior. You quickly fasten it into your hat.

After a few seconds, you gulp anxiously when you notice Jynx isn’t retracting her toes. “U-uh, Director, I took my badge-!”

“Oh!! Sorry about that, Miss Skylor. I’m blocking your view with my foot, aren’t I! I was just messaging the Lieutenant to let him know we’ll be there in a few short minutes.”

“U-uh…W-we?”

“Of course! You didn’t think I was going to make you walk all the way down there? Or take a bus or taxi? No no no, I can just carry you, dear.”

“UH!! Are you sure that’s—eep!” You squeak, as the toes that had just held your badge leap forward to pinch your crumb of a body, and you quickly find yourself carried between the hind toes of the Director. The warmth and rustle of the surrounding fur makes you feel like you’re going to pass out from sheer humiliated embarrassment alone.

“Off we go! Hold on, Miss Skylor. I wouldn’t want to drop you~.”

Today is 3-17-14-9010 on the Collective’s Calendar. (2/7/2238.)

Your 21st birthday was just a week ago. You didn’t exactly have the time to do a whole big celebration, what with final exams and prep and all that.

It might be obvious to anyone who looked at the numbers carefully enough, but you were born after humanity left Earth. You’ve “seen” it, of course – basically everything worth packing for the trip got taken with in some form – And by now there’s plenty of recreations of Earth’s most iconic landscapes and locales. It’s not like you’ve never felt the wind in your face, or never seen a sheep before, or the blue sky. You know about and have experienced all of that stuff, in some form or another. So it’s not like you’re nostalgic for some place you’ve never been.

But there is the small issue that, after passing through the wormhole, mankind had some trouble figuring out where in space they were. The approximate location of Earth within the Local Galactic Group was already known, but pointing out which direction that would be was nigh-on-impossible. You were working with entirely new astronomic references up here, so there was no knowing what was the Andromeda Galaxy, what was the Hickman’s Group, or what. You weren’t even really all that sure how far away the warp took the fleet from Earth, so the entire matter of getting back was a problem without an easy answer.

All this to say that you were looking forward to getting today’s proceedings over with so that you could have a birthday party and a drink!

You step outside your Academy dorm, out into the wide glassy halls of Outer Campus. It’s meant to be open-concept. To feel “outdoors” in contrast to the more claustrophobic spaces aboard smaller space stations. You can’t walk to the Director’s office fast enough to get there, obviously. You could cover about 13-ish feet in a day’s walking. So you’re going to catch a ride from…

ding

Oh, your bus is here.

“Good morning, passenger.” The miniature robot barks. She’s about 2 millimeters tall, putting her in league with the bottom tier of ants. Nevertheless, she looks seven stories tall to you. She had to look over her positively colossal breasts to see you.

“Uh…good morning!” You say. You rarely need to shout at bigger folk, thankfully. Volume control was a key function of the Interplanetary Translator earpieces virtually everyone aboard Collective ships and space stations wore.

“Where can I help you today?” She barks again. Her crossed arms jiggle her chest when she vocalizes. She didn’t really seem like an artificial intelligence.

“I need to get to the Director’s Office.” You can’t help but stare as you say it. “…Are you a new model…? I haven’t seen a bus-nanobot like you with such…uh, full features.”

“Destination confirmed. Select your-“ a pause. “Apologies. Could you repeat that?”

Not wanting to be late, you decided to be more overt in your question this time. “Why did the nanobot engineers give a bus robot huge tits?”

“Affirmative. Seating confirmed. Please remain still.”

“Wait, huh? Whoa whoa-!”

The Bus-dog leaned over, effortlessly plucking you up in one of her mitts and depositing you between her gigantic, doughy boobs. You were quickly swaddled on both sides by unyielding walls of cream-color synthetic tit. Her elbows collapsed to the sides of her chest, squeezing your ‘seat’ and blotting out the view of anything outside her cleavage.

“Please remain seated while your bus is in motion. We will arrive at your destination in: 28 Minutes. Enjoy your ride in: ‘My Huge Tits’.”

Squirming out from between the huge mounds seemed impossible, especially as she accelerated, moving far, far faster than anyone could naturally walk. She skated along the smooth floors with astonishing speed, avoiding anyone larger in the way effortlessly. As she leaned into each turn, her chest compacted you like a pancake. Worst of all, every time she hit a bump in the floor, her entire chest jostled with a great big sloshing noise. Reminding yourself that she was just a robot and it was probably just gelatin or water was the only thing you could do to stop yourself from blushing so hard you pass out.

Half an hour of harrowing cleavage ride later, you’re plucked from between the bus-girl’s breasts directly next to the door to the Director’s office. She sets you gently on the floor and…pats your head. That feels patronizing. When you look up at her, she salutes you, her face barely visible past her stupid honkin’ boobs, and then skates off.

You catch your breath for a moment, quite honestly winded from all the forces involved, when the bus-girl returns. She reaches in her cleavage and takes out all your documents, which you’d apparently dropped in there. She places them gently in front of you. You expect them to be completely crumpled, but the opposite is true – they appear to have had all their creases flattened out by the bus-girl’s unyielding chest.

“Please be sure to take all items with you when disembark-bark-barking.” She woofs, then salutes and skates off again.

As you pick up your paperwork, you notice that there’s a small card tucked under the clip. You read it.

Call Again Whenever You Need My Services Bus-Iness: Channel BA48, Line 5555-2023 (Ask for Chenille) Personal: Channel BDY4, Line 1NU-SH1B4

You pocket the card with your face bright red. Your bus just gave you her phone number. You weren’t used to being flirted with, especially not by robots.

Well…you’re here. The door looms overhead, and while you could knock, it might be better to send a message letting the Director know you’re outside.

Speaking of, are you on time?

Yep! Perfectly on time! {To Chapter 1A}

Year 2212. Also known as Collective Calendar 3-42-15-8999.

With the Earth giving out in terms of resources, humanity decided to leave its nest into the wider universe. That’s the simple version of that bit of history. The fleet, carrying just over 9 billion people, made quick tracks out of the solar system. Once past the Kuiper Belt, the ESS Bifrost activated the wormhole gate, and humanity entered, to be taken faster than light to the next place they would call home.

In retrospect, they could probably have remained on Earth a few more decades to test wormholes with some extra rigor.

Humanity emerged on the opposite side of their galactic neighborhood with no viable route back, no idea where they were, and, of course, lest any of us forget: pulled through a pocket of spatial compression that effectively reduced the size of their entire fleet and everyone in it to 1/12000th scale. Humans that were once 5 foot 11 inches were now 5 thou and 11 subthou tall, .15mm tall. Paltry. Microscopic. Blissfully Ignorant of just how small and in need they all now were. The fleet would rapidly have depleted all of its power and resources in no time at all, had it not immediately been intercepted by the Interstellar Collective.

Integration was tough those first few years.1 But eventually, humanity was able to carve out some small – very small – niche within the pangalactic community. And despite all the new difficulties of this new frontier, at this new size, humanity climbs ever further.

That’s where You come in. You’ve spent the last several years achieving the credentials necessary to become a ship captain. It wasn’t easy – especially making boot camp at the size of a fleck. Even getting approval to pursue a spot aboard Academy Station took a few favors. But today, at last, is the day you graduate and become one of only four or six-ish human captains of a multi-member vessel to exist!

Your itinerary for today is quite simple. First, you need to meet with Academy Station’s Director, to complete the final steps of ceremony and receive your badge (very important!). Second, a Lieutenant-Captain whose name eludes you (temporarily!) wanted to meet to requisition your leadership aboard a cruiser. Third, you would then have to go down to the Large Vessels Lot and introduce yourself to the crew and vessel, and then presumably tomorrow morning you would leave on that vessel for a grand adventure through the galaxy.

You look over your graduation documentation once more to verify that everything is in order. At the top is your basic personal information. It reads…

Option 1: Fem Captain At the top, in neat print, the document reads:

Name: Justine Sieva Skylor Species: Human (Sellan) Dimorphism: Female DOB: 3-38-04-9001. (1/29/2217) Mass: 0.2 micrograms* (See Addendum) Height: .144mm* (See Addendum)

Followed by copies of that same information in a few other formats. Near the bottom of the page are a few addendums and notes explaining the conditions of humanity's size issues.

Since this information is accurate, you decide to head off to go visit the Director and get yourself recognized! Yup, this is me! {To Prologue Part 2.}

At the top, in neat print, the document reads:

Name: Septem Vel Septendecim Lis (Preferred Name: Sep) Species: Viable Hybrid (Human / Soldrakanoid) Dimorphism: Male DOB: 3-38-04-9001. (1/29/2217) Mass: 0.24 micrograms* (See Addendum) Height: .150mm* (See Addendum)

Followed by copies of that same information in a few other formats. Near the bottom of the page are a few addendums and notes explaining the conditions of humanity's size issues.

...Yup, looks correct, you think. You decide to head off to go visit the Director and get yourself your badge.

{Note: This chapter wasn't written/complete yet at time of Cohost's shutdown}

Footnotes