The Ship's Queen

It wasn't as if I had always wanted to go into deep space, but truth be told, I didn't know what I wanted to do. I had tried several different careers first, all with little success, and my options were limited. I would never even have considered deep space if not for the suggestions of several of my friends. I still thought in terms of the "old days", when deep space travel required suspended animation and decades away from family and friends, and of course the fact that many of those early ships just never came back to the present with the intricate nature of bending time. These same cargo runs could now be done in years instead of decades with the higher velocities modern ships could achieve, negating the need to fool with the fragile time space continuum, and that was somewhat more appealing to a young man like me.

One of the problems was there would be around thirty men on this ship and not a single woman, as it was theorized long ago that women on deep space ships tended to destabilize the good order and discipline of her crew. Most of the men thought that absurd, but the committee that made the rules didn't have to live with the consequences of their decisions like we did. Why a ship couldn't employ several talented women in key positions to serve on these ships, and have some kind of agreement with the men to share them equally for recreational activities escaped me. The ship yards employed hundreds of women to design and build these ships, so there would have been no problem finding several to fill the needed positions. The thought of going two whole years or more without sex was one of the few downsides to the commission I thought to accept, if I was fortunate enough to be offered it.

I am slight of build, barely the required minimum weight, and while my slight build never earned me a starting place on any athletic teams, it gave me a potential advantage over another cadet who was heavier and therefore more expensive to take on this trip. The captain and senior staff interviewed each of the potential new crew members before they could be accepted, as any conflict among the crew in deep space was to be avoided. To that end it was unnecessarily explained to me at my interview that the captain and senior staff were the judge and jury on the ship once it was out of our home solar system.

I listened respectfully, but not intently as I never had any problem with doing what I was told, and as it turns out that was a major factor in my selection process. I knew my net worth to the ship with my lack of experience was minimal at best, and that there would be another experienced man with the skills I planned to acquire on this trip that I was to apprentice with. In short, I could have a full blown meltdown and spend the entire tour in the brig, (forfeiting all salary) and not effect the ships mission at all. The money for this trip was good, and enough for my young wife and I to buy a house of our own if we saved it all.

Having bounced around from one failed career to another was not good for my ability to earn a living, and an unanticipated consequence was a young wife that took advantage of my lack of confidence at every opportunity. She explained to our friends that since she earned over seventy five percent of our combine income, I was expected to do at least seventy five percent of our combine chores and housework. When we entertained at our small place, or visited our friends who were entertaining at theirs, they were scandalized to see the way I was put to work by her, at first. I was to prepare and serve meals and drinks, and clean up while she and her guests enjoyed their much earned free time.

I say "at first", because our friends soon warmed to my deserved treatment, and they felt empowered to give me chores to do for them as well as they giggled with, and talked up my sexy young wife. I had a secret, actually two of them. First off, my body responded to her domination in ways that were difficult to hide. Sometimes when I entered the room with the intention of serving her and our friends, I could hear her whispered comments as I felt several sets of eyes focus on my obvious arousal. It was apparent to all after that I got off on all this abuse from her physically. Intellectually was another matter...

The captain passed around my physiological evaluation at my interview, and each of the senior men on the other side of the high table across from me looked through it as I tried not to look nervous. I knew it graded me a five on the Brinkman passive/submissive scale, (the lowest grade one could possibly receive), and while that meant I was no candidate for command, it also meant I was likely to get along with just about anybody. I was asked if I thought that grade accurately reflected my personality, and I decided to answer honestly that I did even though I thought it could disqualify me from the trip. I thanked them for their time, convinced I would never see any of them again, and my wife's desire to have a nice place of her own not likely to happen anytime soon.

Before I even returned home my wife received a communication telling me where and when to report, and to only bring two uniforms with me to save weight on the trip. I was surprised, but she seemed happy that she would eventually get the house of her dreams, and the days flew by until I was to report to the shuttle that was to take me into orbit and to my waiting ship. My young wife put up a brave front and acted quite happy, and we made the standard agreement of permitted infidelity, if conducted in discrete fashion. That traditional agreement was a more symbolic holdover from when ships went out for decades, but she still insisted. I was also proud of her for encouraging me to apply for my commission, even though she knew I would be away from home for two years or more, and she would be stuck doing all the chores she hadn't had to worry about with me around.

We spent our last days before I left making a list of men who would be suitable "companions" at her insistence, still another ancient tradition, but one that effected me in ways that were once again impossible to hide from her. I was also required by tradition to ask each of the men in person on her list to "look after" my young wife while I was away, that being a code phrase understood by all. The men made no efforts to conceal their desires for my young wife when I asked, and at the time I was complimented not only that they should want her as much as I did, but were willing to do so much for my comfort once in deep space. The term "voluntary cuckold" my best friend (and the man at the top of the list) used seemed the most accurate, even though it was an old pejorative phrase and not in common use today. He was a good friend, and one of the many men that encouraged me to apply for the deep space program in the first place, along with my courageous young wife that would surely suffer in my absence.

My best friend and my young wife were to transport me to the shuttle launch station together, after they spent the night together to ensure their compatibility, at her insistence. That I wasn't in her bed for my last night on planet most certainly wasn't traditional, but she explained that they were both willing to do this for me, despite the obvious discomfort of the situation for themselves while I was still home, but only if I asked them sincerely. She said I should spent the night in the spare bed room and get some practice at what we always called "self satisfaction" between us, but the fact that she did so in front of my best friend implied he would soon know every sexual secret I thought were only between us. One of them involved an embarrassing amount of mutual self satisfaction, because my young wife claimed she couldn't sleep with the messy feeling she had after our traditional sex. I asked them to spend the night together as she requested, but expecting them to actually sleep and not to selflessly explore the depths of their compatibility at such an awkward time for them. I was once again grateful for my courageous young wife, and now my best friend as well, both obviously willing to so much for me.

I listened from the next room for hours and didn't get any sleep until they did, despite my repeated sessions of self satisfaction that I expected to become quite good at while traveling through deep space with a ship full of men. The wailing coming from my bedroom through our thin walls let me know the issues of compatibility had been worked out, but that it took great effort on their parts to ensure everything actually fit where it was intended. They apparently wanted to be certain, because they practiced for hours, apparently repeating things with such aggression that I thought our tiny bed would be driven right through the thin wall between us. They made no attempt to be discrete either, possibly to ensure that I knew there would be no problems back at home as I traveled, and I not only marveled at what a lucky man I was, but that her sleep problems post intercourse were finally over.

The next day I came as close as I had ever been to feeling jealous, in a passive way. Not as the two sat close to each other in the front seat holding hands as I rode in back, but earlier when I was asked to move my things out of her room and into storage. That foolish feeling fortunately only lasted a moment, and I saw the wisdom of my young wife's demand that I box my things up so there would be more room in our tiny closets for any overnight guests. The room smelled of sex, and there were clothes and stains everywhere, and my young wife complained she was too sore to help me box up my things, or to even help clean up her messy room. I knew they had selflessly done all this for me, so I quickly picked up after them and put all their messy things into the sanitizing machine, along with my own from the other room. It was the least I could do for them, and I only hoped the stains didn't set as I realized too late that I didn't pretreat them as I usually do. I made the bed for them quickly after I picked up, but felt guilty I didn't have time for much else as we had to leave.

Neither of them got out when we finally arrived at the terminal, and I only received a peck on the cheek from her she was so distraught by my impending departure. She tried so hard to hide that fact from me with her impish smile directed toward my best friend, as if she were hiding some naughty secret instead of courageously hiding her despair. I leaned in to my best friend's fine vehicle to receive a firm handshake from him after my peck from her, his eyes wandering repeatedly to the new dress she had decided to wear to the event. It was a new and revealing style for her, and apparently purchased especially for the occasion. I could see the fresh bruises and love bites that she made no effort to hide, presumably from their selfless hours together in her bed the previous night ensuring their compatibility. I understood her reluctance at getting out of the front seat to give me a proper goodbye, as she seemed to be in some pain just walking around earlier that morning. My best friend, grinning and obviously proud of his extraordinary charity and efforts on my behalf, wouldn't let go of my hand until I thanked him, also a tradition.

*********

I was medically inspected before I was allowed to board the shuttle, specifically to see if I was a one hundred percent functioning man as there had been several attempts throughout the years to sneak a woman on board for the crews entertainment on the long voyages. I passed the intrusive exam easily, and despite my many sessions of self satisfaction the previous night, was able to respond to the applied stimuli easily, but while shamefully thinking about my young wife and best friends sacrifices. I was then taken up into orbit to my new home for the next two years, the HLS Fortunate. We assembled on the after deck and the captain and senior staff warmly greeted us, and specifically asked each of us first timers to come up on the deck with them so everybody could see us.

A secret ballot was passed around to every man who had sailed with the ship before, (we were still referred to as sailors by tradition, even though no boats or water were involved), and I found out before we left the solar system that I had easily won the mysterious election. I noticed a banner haphazardly strung over the area where the captain stood, "What happens in deep space stays in deep space", and I thought to myself that this must be why the Fortunate has more reenlistment than any other cargo ship in it's class. I found myself looking forward to the adventures that surely had to follow, confident that my young wife was well cared for back at home. I also knew I would have to bring my best friend home a thank you gift for all that he has obligated himself to on my behalf.

Once we were out of the solar system the ships doctor came to see me and he explained that since I was new to the ship the trauma recovery system had to pattern my body in case I were injured so that it could repair mine, or even build me a new one if necessary. Even if I were a heartbeat away from clinical death the complicated machine would be able to reconstruct an organic replacement body for me if there were anything at all left to work with. All it needed was time to grow a new body, and my biometric data when healthy and undamaged. It was comforting to know how far the builders of the Fortunate had gone for crew survivability, as the trauma recovery system was only found on the newer ships. The doctor escorted me to his sick bay, and I had to disrobe in front of him for another intrusive medical exam. He saw my look and rolled his eyes, chuckling to himself ironically, but didn't say another word on the subject of my modesty.

Satisfied with his exam he pointed to a gurney that I was to lay on, and he pushed me into the trauma recovery chamber after strapping me down so that I could be patterned over the course of the next few hours. The doctor told me to relax and let the machine do it's work, and I soon drifted off to sleep, but not before the doctor tell me I would "wake a new... ah, man".

*****

I woke some time later covered by a sheet all alone in sick bay, secured to my gurney by wrist and ankle, no doubt for my own safety. I felt strangely heavy in some places, and just plain different in others as my awareness slowly built. My fingers wiggled when I willed them to, as did my toes, but I felt weak. I looked to my toes to see if I could see them move under the sheet, and I became aware of a breathing device filling my nose and mouth, while at the same time holding my head from moving. I felt as if I were waking from a nightmare, and the robotic nurse assigned to keep me safe started beeping out it's warning at my elevated life signs. That brought the doctor out of his office, and his smiling bearded face was right in front of me in moments, "Back with us sweetheart?" he asked mockingly. If my mouth were not stuffed with my breathing apparatus I might have told him I didn't appreciate his sarcasm, but seeing as how everybody on the Fortunate outranked me, including the doctor by twelve pay grades, I knew I didn't have the courage and would treat him respectfully, even if he didn't reciprocate. His beard told me I had been in sick bay far longer that I thought I would.

The doctor told me he would remove my breathing device, but that I had to remain calm or the trauma recovery system would place me in another induced coma until my life signs returned to normal. He pulled the large diameter tube from my mouth, (shaped far more like a large male organ than any medical device), and the others from my nose as I felt around my dry familiar mouth with my tongue. I realized I shouldn't have felt the molar I was missing, and I was puzzled. I attempted to speak, but the doctor cautioned me not to yet with a single finger to his lips. I could tell he had something important to say, and as I was still strapped to his gurney I decided I had little choice but to respectfully listen to what the doctor had to say:

"When the committees first restricted women from deep space travel there were a record number of resignations throughout the space fleet, but the captains of the various ships still had important missions to do. It was an opportunity, the committee chairman argued, to get other humanoid beings in the various crews, and our captain did so out of necessity because he wouldn't quit and leave his crew to a lesser commander. He was younger then and had a reputation for bending the rules, and he decided he would sneak his new wife on board for his next trip anyway. Those of us who sailed with him then were sympathetic as he had just been married, and we all took an oath not to disclose her presence on the ship. 'What happens in deep space, stays in deep space.' She was a tiny thing and as flexible as a former gymnast should be, and she managed to crunch herself up in his day bag that no customs inspector would dare touch, let alone search.

He got her on board, and the captain knew he owed each one of us for not giving his plan away, and she was a welcome unofficial addition to the crew with her sweet disposition and petite good looks. Weeks turned into months, and the only one of us who wasn't tense was the captain, and it was his lovely wife who suggested that it wasn't fair for the other men to go without. She no doubt was more sensitive to the crews tension than he was, and an agreement was silently reached where other men could share the 'ships queen' if she agreed to their advances. It was discrete at first, and only consisted of hand jobs and frottage, but that still brought relief to the men, especially when in the company of a fine looking woman like her. It was also apparent she enjoyed the power she had over us, and she radiated power far in excess of her tiny stature.

Almost the whole crew got to spend some time with her, and soon enough her visits were clothing optional and pretty much whatever consenting adults could think up between themselves, and the crew's moral and devotion to her captain couldn't be higher. The captain's wife had a different lover every time she wanted one, and as she explained it once to me, gentle men when she wanted that, and rough creative men for the other times. She became quite used to entertaining a ship full of lusty men, to include myself several times, and I think she enjoyed herself even more than we men enjoyed her. How the captain kept up with her back at home all by himself was any bodies guess, but that fact, plus his obvious willingness to share with the crew made him the most beloved captain in the fleet."

"The problem," the doctor told me, "was there were two Begorins in the crew, and they were known to be hard working beings who like to play just as hard as they worked. Our ship's queen hadn't spent any time with them yet, and they were understandably eager to be with her. She decided it was silly to be frightened of the large Begorins, and she brought one a snack in his quarters as a peace offering while wearing very little. Small talk was exchanged, and the captains wife spent many days with each of the Begorins before that voyage was over, leading many of us to come to the conclusion they were among her favorites. She never shared the details with any of the other crew, but as her doctor I can tell you they were large men who liked to take her with a fair amount of aggression, to which the ships queen never once complained, even when inadvertently injured in the process. To make a long story short, she sailed with us several times and was never caught, and the captain had his pick of the best officers in the fleet as a result."

I had so many questions I didn't know where to start, but I wondered why I had been told this story, unless they had somehow kidnapped my young wife and planned to pass her around the ship as a play toy. There was a time when such thoughts would have been unthinkable for me, but with the knowledge that my young wife was likely still recovering from her night with my best friend, and with the example that the captain himself had set long ago, I expected to see her dragged into sick bay at any moment. It was an erotic thought, and if I didn't want to be cuckolded, as my best friend suggested I obviously did, I should have stayed home with her and not ventured into space. Every other time I've had similar thoughts my body betrayed me, and wearing nothing but a sheet I couldn't hope to hide my bodies excitement. The doctor watched me carefully and I dared not even think of my strangely unresponsive manhood, less it betray my true desires. Was this the real reason for the doctors story, and was it even true?

I felt shocked, but fortunate that nothing happened to give my thoughts away, and I had to ask, "Why did she stop traveling with the ship?" The instant I spoke I realized something was very wrong, and I thought to myself, how did they find out? My familiar voice was much softer and sexy, almost like one I had used once before, and in the same sensual voice I asked, "What have you done to me?"

The doctor laughed and said why don't you have a look for yourself, and the pride in his voice was impossible to hide. He rolled over a full length mirror and pulled off my sheet, and there bound to my gurney was the most stunning woman I had ever seen! Just as tall as I was with magnificent breasts, tiny waist and feet, and legs impossibly long and perfect. The body and face reflected back at me were more doll like than human with it's unnatural perfection, and I was reminded of one of the antique Barbie dolls from the captain's private collection, and several college plays many years earlier before induced sleep overtook me...

****

I eventually woke from the induced coma the trauma recovery unit had placed me in when my vital signs spiked, and I was still strapped down to the gurney with the mirror still in my view. I studied my apparently new body, and by any modern definition it had a doll like perfection that was impossible for me to find any flaw with. With the doctors story fresh in my mind I had little doubt as to why the captain's wife didn't need to travel with the ship anymore, it was obvious they had found a more suitable replacement for her! I rocked my shoulders back and forth playfully and I both watched and felt the gentle sway of my new breasts, it was both a dream, and nightmare realized at the same time. One thought kept coming back to me though, how did they know?

The doctor came back around to check on me, and he said he was happy to see that I was adjusting to "things". I had little choice but to be calm and accepting of the situation, and I sensed another speech from him:

"The moment we met you and we found out you were graded a five we wanted you on our crew. We used the captain's Barbie doll collection, specifically his oldest as a template. She couldn't look anything like our old ship's queen for obvious reasons, and the senior crew all approved of our design, with slight modifications from each of them. It took us an entire tour to write the program and grow a body the first time with the trauma recovery system, and when she was done she was an inanimate lump of very appealing flesh that we couldn't do anything with. We learned the second time and knew we had to find a 'donor' body to speed the process and provide animation for our creation. We discovered we could pervert the noble intentions of the machine easily enough to eventually create any body, but that life itself was something beyond any machine, even ours.

Our first donor was graded a two, and he fought the process at first, but 'she' did manage to entertain the crew in the process before she was inadvertently damaged by one of the Begorians. We rebuilt his body with the trauma recovery unit and he had no knowledge of the incident except for several missing months of memories, and we installed in their place the experience of the ships senior engineer. He thought those were his experiences, and he went on to become the junior engineer on another ship with our captains highest praises.

We are presently growing you a new body exactly like your old one, missing tooth and all. It will be ready shortly before we are scheduled to return home if all goes according to plan. You have two obvious choices, you could fight us all the way, which would be very unbecoming for a five on the Brinkman scale, and spend your only tour in the brig not even remembering what offense landed you there. Or you could embrace this little adventure and serve your crew in ways you never imagined, and have two years of experiences in your chosen field donated by Mr. Johnson with whom you were to apprentice. The captain would recommend you for a full commission on any ship in the fleet, or you could even stay on this one if you so desire, as Mr. Johnson is due to leave us as soon as we find a suitable replacement."

The doctor laughed at my expression, but mistakenly assumed it was due to a lack of desire to present myself for service to the crew. He said they had anticipated reluctance from the very first donor, and he promised me I would have no problems at all with my modified sex drive. Submissive or not, I sensed I wouldn't have another opportunity like this one to negotiate, and I asked the doctor if the trauma recovery unit had to reconstruct my body "exactly" as it was, or could it make some modifications. I explained what I wanted, and the doctor assured me that my male package was completely average in every way. He gave me a condescending smile while shaking his head after hearing my request, no doubt his thoughts on the unintended consequences of living as a five on the Brinkman scale, and the resulting lack of confidence.

The doctor promised me if I behaved myself and enthusiastically did what was expected of me that he would write a program for a package that would impress a Begorian, but the drive and desire to use it would still have to come from me. I felt myself smile, and thought to myself that this could be the best of both worlds. The doctor cautioned me, "however, if you disappoint us I'll make you wish you still had your average equipment." It was a hell of a bargain to make, but I knew it was likely the only way I could expect to properly entertain my young wife on my return, especially with how much she apparently enjoyed, and easily adapted to my best friends apparent lack of averageness.

I told the doctor I would accept his offer, and he gently removed two devices from my neither regions, each holding their intended openings open far more that I thought possible. The one in front was a massive unit, larger than any human man, and the second both of them were removed I felt empty, as if something was missing. He then released my restraints and helped me off of the gurney as I teetered on my new legs and tiny feet. I stood in front of the mirror and examined my new body from every angle, but under his watchful eyes I couldn't explore it the way natural curiosity demanded, except to see that my new womanhood had recovered miraculously from the fresh removal of such a huge object.

My new body was quite doll like with it's lack of hair below my new slender neck, and I thought of the hours I wouldn't have to spend shaving as I once had to in college. He walked me over to a glass covered chamber with his warm arm around my waist, and inside I saw the extra stuff I was apparently now missing, some of it obvious and some not. The doctor explained that the machine had to have something to work with even if my pattern was stored in it's memory, as their earlier experiments with their inanimate lump of flesh had proven. Before I could ask about what I was staring at, the doctor explained that for my stunning figure some things had to be removed to make room for any eventuality, especially while shrinking my waist to eighteen inches. My thoughts turned to real Begorians, and that massive object just removed from my new body to ensure nothing shifted inside of me as I was healing, and I was happy there were none on the ship presently.

The doctor gave me a short lab coat to wear that couldn't fully close over my breasts as it was cut for a man, and a pair of heels to wear that my feet were specifically designed to fit. They weren't as high as the ones I had experience with, and the doctor unnecessarily explained that it took some practice to get good at walking in heels, and it was best to start out low and work my way up. I practiced around sick bay, and much to his surprise I had an instantly sexy walk. He said it was most feminine, and that I was a natural. He said that most men stomp when they walk, but I appear as graceful as a dancer.

I had a secret, one that I went to great lengths to keep as it was an instant disqualification for deep space service, and I thought the doctor was implying that he knew it. I had originally attended a college of the arts early on that was a gender restricted school, and I won the lead role many times in the plays we put on there. They were however, female roles, but I found it no hardship at all to rehearse wearing all manor of dresses and heels, and even stockings, stuffed bras, and panties. I also got quite good an makeup, and with my slim build, a thorough shave, and a theatrical wig, I could transform myself into the best looking woman on campus, but also the only woman on campus. My fellow students were as quick to pick up on my submissive tendencies as they were my affinity at masquerading as a woman, and the more dominate ones had me dress up and present myself for their house parties. I was a willing participant with all of it, my only condition that they make me do whatever they want of me, and never give me a choice to say no. I was bound with belts and ties in all manor of unusual positions, and I became skilled at the things they "forced" me to do, and the most popular "guy" on campus...

It is a tradition for every new crew member to present themselves to the captain in his day room on the Fortunate. I had already done this once, but since I was more new then old with all the machine had changed for me, I was to do this again. The few men not at their work stations smiled as I passed them in the passageways, and it felt just like back in junior college for me.

I knocked lightly on the captain's door, and then harder so he could hear my tiny knuckles. I entered at his invitation, and he looked up from his work and smiled broadly at me in obvious approval. I smiled back, but felt his stare, how could I not as I was only wearing the thin lab coat I had borrowed from the doctor. On impulse I pirouetted in place on the ball of my high heel so he could see the rest of me, I was so fast in my turn that my lab coat flew open below my hips, and he was sure to see all of my thighs, and perhaps even the rest of me as well.

"Simply magnificent" he said. "I believe you may be the best one yet. Our doctor has told me you are remarkably well adjusted, possibly due to your Brinkman score, or something he has yet to determine. In any event, in exchange for your cooperation in my little act of barratry I will take very good care of you, as I hope the good doctor has explained. I can promise you a full commission on any ship with an opening at the successful completion of this tour, including this one. There is also a pool of donations if you should complete your tour as you are, as none of our 'volunteers' has managed to do so to date, and the amount has gotten quite large."

"I also understand the good doctor is working on something special for you as well?"

"Yes sir", I answered, but with my new voice it sounded sexy, and so much more than a simple respectful affirmation of his implied question. I also chose not to elaborate on the reason I wanted an enhanced package for my return home. I was fairly confident that any man who could keep up with the ship's queen all by himself wouldn't understand. Perhaps I was a voluntary cuckold like my best friend had suggested several times, and that no package, no matter how impressive, could change my desires in that regard. I may not have liked the concept intellectually, but my body responded in predictable fashion whenever I considered it. I also had to consider her part in all this, she was quite good at manipulating and controlling me. I would be remiss if I didn't consider how much I enjoyed that control, and would miss it if there were a change in our relationship.

I had come to a conclusion with the doctor earlier, I decided I would embrace this little adventure and have fun with it, maybe even learn some things my young wife would appreciate once I returned home to her service. It would be like junior college all over again, and as if once again somebody else were doing those things in my place when I assumed my female alter ego. This time however, my female alter ego was perfect in every respect, and likely capable of so much more.

"Sir, I don't know that I can do any of what you expect from me willingly", I told him.

The captains face held instant disappointment when he heard that, as if his next two years would be terrible, and it was all my fault.

"...However, I believe I could be compelled to do everything you desire, and then some. I believe I am destine to be of service to others, but without any choice in the matter, and obviously with appropriate punishments for non compliance."

There was my fondest desire laid out there for him to see. I just hoped he understood what I was asking of him. Just to be clear I added, "Take me and use me as you desire, my consent is neither needed nor desired." It would be just like junior college for me, but two years straight of being in character, instead of one play, or party at a time.

His broad smile was his answer before he even spoke, "Simply magnificent, now come over here!"

He bent me over his high chart table with my ass exposed to the chill of the room as my short coat rode up, and he used a strip of self sticking strapping to hold my left ankle to the leg of it. He then had me place both of my wrists out in front of me, mashing my breasts onto the clean table top. More self sticking strapping was used to secure both of my wrists to each other with no slack in between, and this allowed me to be able to closely inspect this most favorite tool of modern sailors. It was impossibly strong when stuck to itself, but easy to pull apart if one could grasp the loose end and simply unwrap it. It was credited with helping many broken old ships get back home, and no wise sailor ever ventured into space without loads of the stuff on hand.

While I was distracted with my inspection of the captain's personal strapping, (there were many different kinds, each with it's own specific purpose), and was startled to feel him grasp my right ankle in his powerful hand. I expected him to secure it to the other chart table leg to stretch me out in predictable fashion, it was a deliciously vulnerable position that I had some experience with, and would leave me "open" to whatever my captor desired. Instead, he slowly bent my leg at the knee and put my high heeled foot up on the same high table I was sprawled across. I had no idea my new body was so flexible, but he didn't stop there. While standing behind me with his bulging manhood pressed up against my naked ass, he kept moving my ankle, and it's attached smooth and sexy leg, ever so slowly up toward my bound wrists. I expected to feel some extreme pain at some point, or for my leg to just stop on it's own when my tendons and muscles reached their limit, as no human I knew was nearly this flexible. I found myself up on the ball of my left foot until the strapping around my ankle prevented me from moving any further, but the captain continued his slow stretching of my leg, and unnatural rotation of my hips.

I sensed it off to my right before I had the courage to look for it, but eventually he had my high heel, near my bound wrists. My knee was locked straight, and except for the missing pain I would have swore he just broke me in half. My wrists and right ankle received more of his favorite strapping, and all three appendages were firmly fixed together in the strangest position I had ever been in.

"I value flexibility in a woman, and the good doctor obliged me with this familiar ability of yours in response", the captain joked.

I felt his bare self enter me with little resistance, and while it was something I had some experience with, it was also from the other side of things. It felt good, actually quite a bit better than just good, but with my extreme position I could do little more than go along for the ride passively. All to soon the ride was over and he withdrew, but only long enough to start something I had far more experience with, having only used me long enough to provide what he needed for his true intentions. What he was doing was obviously very good for him, and I enjoyed the use he was getting from my bound body, but this first experience in female flesh didn't lead where I had hoped.

The captain again withdrew, but this time with a firm slap on my ass, his passions apparently sated for the moment. I felt submissively used and humbled, and I loved every moment!

 

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22.12.13

story continues in The Ship's Queen 2

o0o