As James woke shrieking, and freaking out. The klaxons blaring, and a whole new appreciation about the heft and awkwardness of massive breasts. Cyrez Jax was chuckling to himself. His tractor leaving Roh dome behind him as he drove the short distance to his shuttle, and his escape from Venus.
With a solid click, he was able to twist and lift free his helmet. The air in the tractor was no fresher than his suit air, but the muffled sounds of the vehicle sprang into a new sharpness. With his task complete, he had to report his success.
The antenna whipped back and forth. Even nanite-strong, it was flexible in the Venusian typhoon winds.
His padd sitting in his lap, he called his contact. Unnaturally, the view screen remained black. "Yes." The voice synthesized and disguised emerged with a coldness, even Cyrez couldn't ignore.
"The job is done." He said just a blankly.
"All the nanites were added?" it asked.
The dispassion was chilling not merely from it's disguise but the indifference was chilling too.
"Send the payment." Cyrez demanded, his throat a little parched, and his tone a little hesistant. He didn't ask what the nanites had done. That wasn't his job. He wasn't paid to care. A small part of him hoped he hadn't killed them all.
Though most industrial sabotage did involve some loss of life. The subtle destruction of a vital piece of equipment also worked.
There was a chirp from his lap, as his padd received a message. The payment had gone to his account.
As if reading his mind, the voice continued. An icy playfulness to it, teasing him.
"If you care, no-one died from your actions." it told him.
The emergency klaxon erupted inside the Tractor, and Cyrez leapt to take the controls. Ignoring the padd falling to the plasteel floor of the tractor. A quick survey of the systems told him the tractor was functioning normally. But Rho dome was in uproar.
Stabbing the screen with a stiff finger, the radio activated. He didn't notice his employer vanish from the other end of the line.
This time, his screen did light up, and the broadcast was clear. It was the control room for the dome. But, it had been over-run by the Female Relief Force. Each of the over-inflated bimbos had taken over. Doubtless some fool showing off, or an orgy running out of control. Cyrez shook his head in amusement. Probably one of the whores had sat on the wrong button.
Then, over a few moments, he realised what had happened. This wasn't the FRF, those were the Control Staff, he'd just re-assigned them. Their eyes were wide with fear, and horror. Not cock-hungry and hypnotised by the sight of male flesh.
A couple sat at their consoles, trying to re-establish control. Only to find it impossible with a huge bust blocking the view screen, or activating the controls at random moments. Others were in the grips of their new hormones and emotions.
Those bodies were pumping intoxicating levels of lust and need through their veins. After all, the gene-engineers didn't want them to be unhappy. Their eyes lost, staring into space, as they tweaked, tugged and worked their nips. Others spaced out, with fingers buried deep in unfamiliar flesh. A trace of drool spilling from lips agape with a goofy, vacant smile.
- - - - -
It was as Cyrez approached the shuttle craft. The pinging of his beacon letting him know the shuttle was getting closer. The vaguest outline of the ship appeared and vanished through the shifting clouds.
Cyrez felt the tickles and itches spread over his skin. His suit tailored to fit, and perfected for use on Venus was off...
Seeming to pinch, at various points. While at others it was too loose. He struggled to unlock the gloves from the suit. With a reluctant hiss, they came off. Even his fingers were lost inside the too loose gloves.
But, as Cyrez Jax stared at the hands, he knew he was doomed. Those were unfamiliar hands! Too slender, and hairless, they belonged on a woman. Cyrez knew he'd been contaminated. Either by accident or betrayed by his employer. In minutes, he wouldn't care. Lost to the storms of her tsunami of hormones that'd wash away any rational thought from her animal mind.
The tightness in his chest wasn't merely the stress of the situation. The constriction of fear, it was his bust... his tits! From what he saw, these would be TITS, not mere breasts, or a simple bust. It was trying to grow in the tight confined space of his suit. Relentlessly converting his male flesh into the abundantly feminine opposite number
As breathing became difficult. He had to face it...
Tapping the central panel. The suit retreated, and a gasp of relief spilled from his lips. He could breath freely once again. But, it came with a cost. The horrific bust rising and falling as he gulped air deep into his lungs. Even the edges of his suit teased the supple, sensitive flesh, as it rose and fell.
Those too ripe, too sensitive nips ached for his touch... Shaking his head, Cyrez knew it was she now. She felt the urges rising. The heat unfamiliar, the itch intimate, far different from the urgency of a stiff cock. She found her mouth starting to water at that very idea. Cocks were delicious sweet treats now. Something to be savoured, and satisfied.
She shudderered in the tractor seat, as she fought to keep control. The shuttle visible through the windscreen was now clear. Perhaps,... perhaps... she thought, hoping for some vague, undefined restoration. She felt the tracks reach the bay of the shuttle.
Cyrez Jax died with hope in her heart. Unaware of the fruitlessness of the hope. Her former employer tying up one last loose end. In a brief white flare of brilliance. The shuttle detonated, taking itself, the tractor and occupant before she was even aware of her betrayal.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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