Healslut (futa on futa, incest, interracial)

Story by Kuroshio

Francophone futanari in spaaaaaaaace.

(futa on futa, interracial, rough sex, solo, voyeur, incest, milf, futadom, breeding)

I never liked standing watch and if I'd been on a bigger ark, my specialty – medical services – would have kept me off the consoles. But as it was, I lived on a tiny breakaway “pinnacette” with a maximum capacity of thirty-five souls, with twenty on board if we had a couple of visitors. Raised there my whole life, at least the parts I could remember. That was far too few for exemptions for mere medically-trained personnel and I was junior anyway, barely seventeen years old. So for six hours out of our eighteen hour “days” I sat behind the sensor consoles, our pinnacette's eyes out into the vast emptiness of space.

It didn't require much skill; there were automatic alarms to indicate collisions and close-approaches, the scan settings for our two radars were preset, the passively displays were tied into the AI's monitoring software. Sitting in the sensor watch's chair, I was merely the last in the long line of redundancies. Although as boring as space could be, it could be just as lethal, so I didn't spend too many words bitching.

Of course, since I'd rigged up the lower console to play movies rather than fused sensor data, I was a lot less bored.

“Dominique!” My only company in the cockpit was my distant cousin, Fleurette. She was all blonde curls and big blue eyes the color of sapphire. And annoying. So very annoying.

I took my time answering, hoping that she would maybe take the hint and not bother me. Sadly enough, my cousin was either oblivious or uncaring and continued calling my name, growing more shrill and annoying with each repetition until I finally snapped, “What?”

“What are you looking at?” Her voice was like nails on the chalkboard and shattered my inner peace. It wasn't even that she was necessarily all that annoying right off the get-go; it was more remember all the little things she'd done to aggravate me over the years. We were similar enough in age that she'd been my playmate for as long as I could remember. The really galling thing was she was far more childish than I was despite being over a year older. While we were supposed to be learning some useful trade, Fleurette would be fucking off or sleeping in her rack. When she was actually studying, it was almost invariably the 100-series introductory course for some new field rather than the more advanced coursework necessary to qualify. She just didn't have the disposition for self-learning. I wished her parents would have seen that and put her on one of the big orbital platforms or (even better) one of the far out asteroid bases but they insisted our family had a long tradition of making it as part of the Cloud Fleet and so she stayed.

“Nothing,” I answered sullenly, closing out the porn I was watching and starting up a training game. “I'm not watching anything, just playing a game.”

Quickly her chin fell onto the headrest above me, “Nuh-uh! You were looking at porn again, weren'cha?”

I stayed quiet for a few minutes; answering would have just encouraged Fleurette to keep her stupid gums flapping. Which could make an already long watch feel a whole helluva lot longer. I put my energy towards the game, blasting little rocks and pieces of debris away from an ark ship with a modified mining laser. The first few levels were easy and I could focus on making rocks into smaller rocks while stocking up on repair equipment for the later levels since Fleurette was engrossed in graphics. But before long the difficulty ramped up and she started trying to give out advice, which only distracted me and made my reaction times even worse.

“Noooo, you shoulda upgraded from the mining laser!” she butted in between levels, “It makes it easier to –“

“I know.” And I really did. I also knew it was a poor choice compared to repair equipment in the game, but Fleurette didn't. Because was a flighty girl who could never let one thing keep her attention focused on one thing long enough to get good at it. Instead she'd jump into a fresh thing, learn just enough to be dangerous and then claim boredom before hopping off to another subject or hobby, like a basilisk across the waters of knowledge.

I knew I wasn't the only person on our pinnacette that worried about her for that reason.

“Then you know that if you...” Fleurette launched into hasty digression about the game. I tried to tune her out, but it was impossible and the sound of her voice spoiled any enjoyment I might have taken from the diversion. Standing uncomfortably close to me and with her looking over my shoulder while her hands danced in front of my screen; I couldn't escape her. “...and that's why upgraded weapons are better Dominique! They can –”

“Did you want to see the movie I was watching?”

She stopped talking on a dime, slightly confused, “Ummm... sure?”

With just a few keystrokes

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