Drift travel is boring on a ship, too, but with multiple people able to watch the ship's sensors, the split shifts mean we all have a fair amount of time left to our own devices where we don't need to be paying overly much attention. As the ship's engineer, I'm working full days making sure everything is ship shape, and the basic watch is split between Peter, Zachary, and Joseph; each takes about eight hours a day at the helm watching for anything that requires an action from the crew.
No, there isn't anything. Space is big and empty, and The Drift is too. We do pass a chunk apparently torn out of The Maelstrom from the Plane of Air which was flying apart… but there’s nobody here for it to harm, so we just flew around it.
I set myself a routine: I get up, eat something for breakfast (not that I need to, but it's best to keep up appearances), spend four hours going through the ship in detail to make sure everything is in order with all systems with my own eyes, eat something for lunch, check the readouts, spend another four hours checking systems with my own eyes again (different systems; even a ship as small as this one has a lot), spend an hour working out, take a shower to wash off the grime (apparently exercise doesn't make me sweat), eat something for dinner, spend a few hours visibly reading, retire to bed and read there for eight hours… then rinse and repeat.
The second day of our flight, while I'm having a “breakfast” of nutrient rich shipboard mush, the two gunners enter, and start sniggering. Sense Motive tells me they're hiding something, but that doesn't exactly take much effort to determine. I can't really think of a good way to make them spill the beans, though: I need to work with these people for at least the next six months: Intimidation and lies make for bad long-term strategies… and I don't exactly have any leverage on them at the moment… well, maybe the ‘spying on the captain’ thing, bit it seems petty to waste that on something like a little inappropriate laughter. I could try Charming one, I suppose, but mind control, while effective, is a short-term solution only: People can figure it out, and then it's out the airlock… because that stuff can be worse than murder.
Not that going out the airlock would kill me, but I’d rather not start from zero again.
So, not being able to think of any good options, I let it slide, and simply do my best to ignore it, finishing my breakfast that I'm eating merely to convince people I need to do so.
The third day, Peter tries to strike up a conversation while we're both on the bridge, otherwise alone… over the near-constant sounds of the captain engaging in his ‘hobby’... and yes, the two rats are in the side chamber.
“So… is this your first post, Alex?” Something seems slightly off in Peter's tone… but I'm busy checking the ship's readings - not that it's time sensitive; it's preventive maintenance, really - so I'm not working that worry.
“It's my first time working on a ship this small, anyway,” which is technically true, but not quite what he asked.
“Ah ha,” Peter smiles warmly… it's a false warmth that puts me a little on edge, but it's warm. Ish. “Well… on a small ship like this, we spend months on end together, and become like a little family. So if there's anything you want to talk about… just let me know.”
Nothing I want to share, and especially not with you, Peter, “That's good to know, thanks.”
“It can be hard carrying secrets alone… know that you don't have to. This is a safe place.” You are really pushing, aren't you? Which means you know something. Great. Just great.
But pushing might reveal something he doesn't know. So for now… “Nice to know everyone here is warm and friendly.” Or it would be, if it were true. But I do believe things have reached a point where I really need to get to the bottom of this. What could… I've been careful… let me think… “Anyway, I always want to make sure this ship is in top shape, so back to my rounds…” I quickly make an exit.
OK, so, I haven't been casting here, and I keep no magic running, so about the only two places where I could possibly be caught at anything are my bunk - where all I do is read, which would not prompt so strange of a probe, and behind one very specific locked door….
I inspect the ship regularly anyway, slowly going through all systems in rotation. But now, when I reach the bathroom, I'm looking for a different sort of problem than I normally try to find. I know there are voyeurs aboard, and they have access here, so… I turn off the lights, pull out my com, turn on the flashlight… and yep, there's one. Bottom edge of the mirror, a glint of reflected light that's just slightly curved. I keep looking, and find another buried in the shower head. After I finish my inspection (there's a third in the toilet, but I never need to use that for whatever reason, despite eating), I grab them all, and march back to the bridge.
I take a breath, not that it helps, and knock on the captain’s door… nothing. I focus a moment, and… ah. A soft, regular chittering under the normal moans… and thinking about it, those moans sound familiar. Oh no.
I take a moment to unlock the door - no, I don't have the proper key, but it's an application of the Engineering skill in Starfinder, so no big deal for me - and… as I feared. He has a screen on his wall, playing on a loop… and it's me, from when I was checking to see if I could still… ugh. The angle is such that it only has me from the waist up, but Eric apparently fell asleep, rubbing himself off… repeatedly, based on the pile of tissues… to me, playing with my new chest. OK, now I'm pissed off.
Insectoid junk is weird, by the way.
I storm the bridge, plop myself in the captain’s chair, and use the shipwide com, “All hands: Bridge, NOW. I have something to show you all, which apparently you all already know about anyway. And hey: If anyone's missing, guess who knows how to vent your air?”
Whether because of the implied promise, the threat, or because there's no real option, everyone is assembled quite quickly: The captain stumbles out of his cabin, rubbing his eyes… he did pull his pants up, at least. Peter was already here (and is the one other person on the ship for whom a threat of venting the hull is meaningless: Androids are fine in a vacuum), and the two gunners… I STILL can't tell them apart… well, those rats scurry in a hurry.
No, I don’t let anyone get a word in. “I found these!” I toss two of the bugs at the rats as I continue and work my plan, such as it is, “In the bathroom! And apparently, they've been used, as the VIDEO is playing on a loop in the captain’s cabin. And it's very, very clear you've all seen it! So hey, let's put a rest to the rumors, shall we?” I rip open my shirt, showing the bandages taping down my two ‘girls’, “I'm sure you know what's under here, but just so there's NO question…” I pull down the bandages, letting my twin milkers breathe, “Yes, I have breasts! Two of them!” I lift them each in turn, “Left and right!” I switch to raising them both a bit, “Take a good look!” I close my shirt, not bothering to replace the bandages, “Because they are MINE, and you don't get to touch them.” I smile devilishly, “But feel free to play with your own.”
See, while I was speaking and waving my chest around to keep them distracted? I was also using today's allotment of Mythic power to cast spells on them all. Really, just the same one, repeatedly: Bane. It's a first level cleric spell that affects all enemies in a fairly decent area (and right at that moment, they all were in it), as a burst, and lasts minutes. And my power has that side effect….
As they stand there dumbfounded, looking down at their new assets, I take stock myself: That was far more potent than I was expecting.
“Oh, that's easy,” my pink ghost whispers in my mind, “You WANTED that effect. You were actively concentrating on making it happen. It's basically ‘free’ for us to apply, so… I did. In droves.” No kidding. They're now all twisted by a specific human view of beauty. None of their clothes survived the change, they're bare with shredded cloth scattered on the floor around them.
Peter's pecs are nowhere to be seen - his body is now completely feminine, with two inflated beach balls breaking out of his shirt. He still has the rose circuit on his face, but it's changed color, and is now pink… and he's got a caboose to match, and a slit between his legs that's dripping.
Eric only looks a little insectoid now. He still has butterfly wings (which are now exclusively shades of pink), and two antennae on his head, but he looks more like a woman cosplaying a fairy… in a fetish porn movie. He has the same inflated beach balls on his chest, the same bodacious backside, and wet cleft between his legs.
The two rats have it the worst. No body fur… they still have their ears and furry tail (now pink fur) and their faces are very snout-like… but they're otherwise hairless below their eyebrows, and their bodies are basically just scaled down human ones… or would be, if it weren't for the six volleyball sized melons each of them is sporting. And… yes, they're dripping as well. Apparently whatever fantasy first spawned Patricia includes ‘ready to go’.
I take a moment to let them look themselves over, then smile, “Enjoy yourselves,” are my last two words as I walk off the bridge.
Drift travel is boring on a ship, too, but with multiple people able to watch the ship's sensors, the split shifts mean we all have a fair amount of time left to our own devices where we don't need to be paying overly much attention. As the ship's engineer, I'm working full days making sure everything is ship shape, and the basic watch is split between Peter, Zachary, and Joseph; each takes about eight hours a day at the helm watching for anything that requires an action from the crew.
No, there isn't anything. Space is big and empty, and The Drift is too. We do pass a chunk apparently torn out of The Maelstrom from the Plane of Air which was flying apart… but there’s nobody here for it to harm, so we just flew around it.
I set myself a routine: I get up, eat something for breakfast (not that I need to, but it's best to keep up appearances), spend four hours going through the ship in detail to make sure everything is in order with all systems with my own eyes, eat something for lunch, check the readouts, spend another four hours checking systems with my own eyes again (different systems; even a ship as small as this one has a lot), spend an hour working out, take a shower to wash off the grime (apparently exercise doesn't make me sweat), eat something for dinner, spend a few hours visibly reading, retire to bed and read there for eight hours… then rinse and repeat.
The second day of our flight, while I'm having a “breakfast” of nutrient rich shipboard mush, the two gunners enter, and start sniggering. Sense Motive tells me they're hiding something, but that doesn't exactly take much effort to determine. I can't really think of a good way to make them spill the beans, though: I need to work with these people for at least the next six months: Intimidation and lies make for bad long-term strategies… and I don't exactly have any leverage on them at the moment… well, maybe the ‘spying on the captain’ thing, bit it seems petty to waste that on something like a little inappropriate laughter. I could try Charming one, I suppose, but mind control, while effective, is a short-term solution only: People can figure it out, and then it's out the airlock… because that stuff can be worse than murder.
Not that going out the airlock would kill me, but I’d rather not start from zero again.
So, not being able to think of any good options, I let it slide, and simply do my best to ignore it, finishing my breakfast that I'm eating merely to convince people I need to do so.
The third day, Peter tries to strike up a conversation while we're both on the bridge, otherwise alone… over the near-constant sounds of the captain engaging in his ‘hobby’... and yes, the two rats are in the side chamber.
“So… is this your first post, Alex?” Something seems slightly off in Peter's tone… but I'm busy checking the ship's readings - not that it's time sensitive; it's preventive maintenance, really - so I'm not working that worry.
“It's my first time working on a ship this small, anyway,” which is technically true, but not quite what he asked.
“Ah ha,” Peter smiles warmly… it's a false warmth that puts me a little on edge, but it's warm. Ish. “Well… on a small ship like this, we spend months on end together, and become like a little family. So if there's anything you want to talk about… just let me know.”
Nothing I want to share, and especially not with you, Peter, “That's good to know, thanks.”
“It can be hard carrying secrets alone… know that you don't have to. This is a safe place.” You are really pushing, aren't you? Which means you know something. Great. Just great.
But pushing might reveal something he doesn't know. So for now… “Nice to know everyone here is warm and friendly.” Or it would be, if it were true. But I do believe things have reached a point where I really need to get to the bottom of this. What could… I've been careful… let me think… “Anyway, I always want to make sure this ship is in top shape, so back to my rounds…” I quickly make an exit.
OK, so, I haven't been casting here, and I keep no magic running, so about the only two places where I could possibly be caught at anything are my bunk - where all I do is read, which would not prompt so strange of a probe, and behind one very specific locked door….
I inspect the ship regularly anyway, slowly going through all systems in rotation. But now, when I reach the bathroom, I'm looking for a different sort of problem than I normally try to find. I know there are voyeurs aboard, and they have access here, so… I turn off the lights, pull out my com, turn on the flashlight… and yep, there's one. Bottom edge of the mirror, a glint of reflected light that's just slightly curved. I keep looking, and find another buried in the shower head. After I finish my inspection (there's a third in the toilet, but I never need to use that for whatever reason, despite eating), I grab them all, and march back to the bridge.
I take a breath, not that it helps, and knock on the captain’s door… nothing. I focus a moment, and… ah. A soft, regular chittering under the normal moans… and thinking about it, those moans sound familiar. Oh no.
I take a moment to unlock the door - no, I don't have the proper key, but it's an application of the Engineering skill in Starfinder, so no big deal for me - and… as I feared. He has a screen on his wall, playing on a loop… and it's me, from when I was checking to see if I could still… ugh. The angle is such that it only has me from the waist up, but Eric apparently fell asleep, rubbing himself off… repeatedly, based on the pile of tissues… to me, playing with my new chest. OK, now I'm pissed off.
Insectoid junk is weird, by the way.
I storm the bridge, plop myself in the captain’s chair, and use the shipwide com, “All hands: Bridge, NOW. I have something to show you all, which apparently you all already know about anyway. And hey: If anyone's missing, guess who knows how to vent your air?”
Whether because of the implied promise, the threat, or because there's no real option, everyone is assembled quite quickly: The captain stumbles out of his cabin, rubbing his eyes… he did pull his pants up, at least. Peter was already here (and is the one other person on the ship for whom a threat of venting the hull is meaningless: Androids are fine in a vacuum), and the two gunners… I STILL can't tell them apart… well, those rats scurry in a hurry.
No, I don’t let anyone get a word in. “I found these!” I toss two of the bugs at the rats as I continue and work my plan, such as it is, “In the bathroom! And apparently, they've been used, as the VIDEO is playing on a loop in the captain’s cabin. And it's very, very clear you've all seen it! So hey, let's put a rest to the rumors, shall we?” I rip open my shirt, showing the bandages taping down my two ‘girls’, “I'm sure you know what's under here, but just so there's NO question…” I pull down the bandages, letting my twin milkers breathe, “Yes, I have breasts! Two of them!” I lift them each in turn, “Left and right!” I switch to raising them both a bit, “Take a good look!” I close my shirt, not bothering to replace the bandages, “Because they are MINE, and you don't get to touch them.” I smile devilishly, “But feel free to play with your own.”
See, while I was speaking and waving my chest around to keep them distracted? I was also using today's allotment of Mythic power to cast spells on them all. Really, just the same one, repeatedly: Bane. It's a first level cleric spell that affects all enemies in a fairly decent area (and right at that moment, they all were in it), as a burst, and lasts minutes. And my power has that side effect….
As they stand there dumbfounded, looking down at their new assets, I take stock myself: That was far more potent than I was expecting.
“Oh, that's easy,” my pink ghost whispers in my mind, “You WANTED that effect. You were actively concentrating on making it happen. It's basically ‘free’ for us to apply, so… I did. In droves.” No kidding. They're now all twisted by a specific human view of beauty. None of their clothes survived the change, they're bare with shredded cloth scattered on the floor around them.
Peter's pecs are nowhere to be seen - his body is now completely feminine, with two inflated beach balls breaking out of his shirt. He still has the rose circuit on his face, but it's changed color, and is now pink… and he's got a caboose to match, and a slit between his legs that's dripping.
Eric only looks a little insectoid now. He still has butterfly wings (which are now exclusively shades of pink), and two antennae on his head, but he looks more like a woman cosplaying a fairy… in a fetish porn movie. He has the same inflated beach balls on his chest, the same bodacious backside, and wet cleft between his legs.
The two rats have it the worst. No body fur… they still have their ears and furry tail (now pink fur) and their faces are very snout-like… but they're otherwise hairless below their eyebrows, and their bodies are basically just scaled down human ones… or would be, if it weren't for the six volleyball sized melons each of them is sporting. And… yes, they're dripping as well. Apparently whatever fantasy first spawned Patricia includes ‘ready to go’.
I take a moment to let them look themselves over, then smile, “Enjoy yourselves,” are my last two words as I walk off the bridge.
