During her free time, Journey was allowed to wear anything she wished. Thanks to the brainwashing, and heightened skin sensitivity, Journey’s choice of attire was scant little. Other than a thong that stretched far too thinly down the valley between her legs, Journey’s fragile skin was completely bare. Her swollen breasts were fully exposed, and her nipples were sharp against the cool air. Looking down her flat stomach, it was hard not to marvel at her wide child bearing hips and picture seeing her waist swell with someones child. Such thoughts, once frightening, were now all she could think about. Her dreams were nearly consumed with such fantasies. 

      Strolling down the halls in such a fashion raised more than a few eyebrows. Had it not been for her distracting pheromones, she probably wouldn’t have gotten away with it. More than once, a security guard tried to caution her to return to her quarters, only to find his phallus unsheathed and in her jaws. Only when children were present did she wear something to cover her bountiful breasts, and as soon as they were out of sight, she would quickly cast the garment over her shoulder.

      Her days were often spent in one of three places. The first was Rise’s room, to which she enjoyed hours of degenerate activities, but that was when he was off-duty. The second was the star gallery on the forward prow of the ship. The Star of Argon’s main gallery encapsulated an amphitheater underneath a solid glass orb overlooking the cosmos. It was, perhaps, the one place where Journey could go to think. It was, however, a place where she had to keep herself partially dressed, for there were always other passengers enjoying the shared splender of the universe. 

      Whenever Journey needed to let off some steam, which was often, she found herself in the ship’s bar and lounge area. Alcohol was a plenty, and it didn’t take long to stir her bodies enhanced metabolism to generate arousing pheromones and gain attention. Almost always, the soldiers belonging to the Rookson Mercenary Company were there. It was fun playing with them, and Journey often enjoyed their company. At first she hoped to learn how they became soldiers, but after one-to-many stories, her desire to become a fierce warrior began to subside. 

      Journey Chase had come to know each of the eleven mercenaries by the shape, taste, and feel of their genitals. Of course, this wasn’t counting  the three women among their company, who were far more interested in other passengers on the ship. Journey couldn’t blame them for that; there were plenty of good specimens to choose from, although she was worried they would hoard other men away.

      Journey swallowed, keeping such fears to herself, and kept her attention focused on all the gorgeous phallus’s hanging around her. Each of them were delightful to behold. The smell of their shared sweat lit up her sex starved loins, causing her own sprout to rise.

      The people of Flottenhast seemed to have simple short names. Or perhaps, it was a class system thing. There were some cultures who’s very naming conventions were dependent on which social caste they were born into. Journey’s own home world liked to play with names, often giving people in prominent families multiple middle names, each offered by royal houses that were somewhat related. It wasn’t rare for some among the highest families to have fourteen names! 

      In another time, in another place, Journey might’ve been curious enough to learn more about Flottenhast and what life must’ve been like to produce such excellent examples of manliness. But for now, she was just thankful to be here amongst them.

      The erection in front of her belonged to a man by the name of Pele. He was a decent man with a plain face, and simple tastes. His comrades all seemed to share similar brown hair, and fair skin tones. His erection curved slightly to the left, making his bulbous tip poke the side of her mouth as she gulped his spent seed.

      For some reason, Journey liked the taste of his salty flesh more so than the others. Except for, maybe, Aris’s manhood. His dark flesh reminded her of a bar of chocolate, and the size of it pounded the back of her throat without mercy. Journey nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation after his ravishing. When Aris finally relieved himself, and withdrew, Journey had to be held in place by the others so she wouldn’t fall to the ground. Milo had to rub her back to help her swallow the ocean of semen before finally inhaling a fresh gasp of air. 

      Milo might’ve been a close comparison to Aris’s stiffness, his own rod was bold and full of splendor. He was the oldest of them, with wisps of grey hair in his beard. Normally a man of his age would’ve taken a bit of time to siphon, but Journey found him easiest to bring to climax. Journey liked the feeling of his weighty ball sack slamming against her chin with each thrust.

      The one mercenary she feared the most was Secus. Secus was a monster, his phallus seemed to run the length of her forearm! Journey found it almost impossible to suckle him without wanting to gag. If it wasn’t for her enhancements, Journey wondered if it would even be possible.

      No sooner had she finished with one, that she began pleasuring another. Those that were too eager to wait enjoyed her soft hands, or the warmth of her breasts. Journey turned it into a game. Those she couldn’t pleasure fast enough would eventually spend themselves on her fair skin. The less semen that coated her, the better she was doing. Of course, Journey didn’t mind their sticky balm coating her cheeks, shoulders, and breasts. So it was a game that rewarded her either way.

      The last mercenary was the hardest to tame. Verus had a manly patrician face, one that seemed more refined than the others. His mustache only made him seem more like a foreign diplomat than an experienced soldier. His cock was more voracious than his gentle demeanor. Even after massaging it for several minutes, its constitution held. It was only when Journey let him place his girth between her supple breasts, that it started to relent. Feeling his veins sink against her bare flesh sent tingles down her spine. The moment he finally spent himself, Journey laughed with delight. 

      Once finished, all eleven of the mercenaries sat awkwardly in their booths. Journey laid flat onto the table, covered in thick soup, nearly out of breath. Her breasts heaved in the open air, small trickles of milk trickled down her sides in dual streams. 

      “Well boys, I think that was an evening well spent.” She leaned forward, letting her arms hold her in place. All the men surrounding her echoed their agreements. “Now if you don’t mind, I think I need a bath.” 

      “Mistress…” Melie’s voice caught her attention. The shorter woman strolled into the lounge, her uniform barely cleaving onto her ample curves. The erection between her legs burst through the thong like an unseemly appendage. “May I relieve you of your own pressure?” 

      “Get your pretty little ass over here,” Journey couldn’t help herself from grinning like an idiot.