The Cerulean Chronicles (A Galactic Tickle Tale) - Episodes One, Two, and Three (F/F)

Episode One - The Dashi’i Crystal

Aboard the UGES Destiny, Commander Grace Holloway descends through a narrow tube, down to the research deck of her spacecraft below. For the past six months, she has commanded this ship to the best of her abilities, carrying out its sole mission as assigned to her by the governing body of the United Gaian Enterprise. It’s an admittedly small vessel, its modest seven-person crew paling in comparison to the hundreds of battle-ready service members she was leading at the helm of the Destroyer-class UGES Pathway just three years prior. However, its lack of pomp and circumstance merely betrays the utmost importance it holds to her superiors, possessing a purpose that could only be handled by an esteemed and capable officer such as herself. Stationed just 7500 miles outside the border of Cerulean void space, its sole purpose was to gather any and all information pertaining to the alien planet’s ruling monarchy. To ascertain knowledge on the inner workings of the culture and politics of its alien inhabitants is essential in maintaining economic ties with the planet, their natural bounty of precious raw energy an indispensable fuel source for maintaining the galactic armada of the UGE, and what better way to negotiate this deal than by knowing exactly what buttons they need to push behind the palatial walls.

However, by what means they are to be gathering this information was left up to the discretion of the commander, which is where our story begins today.

Over the course of her short but decorated military career, Commander Holloway has all but mastered the art of presence: her midnight blue uniform sits in stark contrast to the sleek marble interior of her ship, with her attire’s gold-plated adornments shimmering gloriously underneath the bright fluorescent lights from above, giving her a look of near-divinity to those who have yet gone blind. She stands a formidable 5'10'' tall, towering over the crew whose more consolidated physicality renders them better equipped for the enclosed space they work in. Her already sharpened facial features, from her poised and polished eyebrows, down to her prominently pointed chin, are merely intensified by her primped jet black hair, cascading halfway down her back by her tightly bound ponytail. With every step she takes, the sound of her large black boots collapsing atop the polished floors announces her approach far before she could, letting her crew know well in advance that they better shape up or ship out if they know what’s good for them, and with the unique set of circumstances they find themselves in tonight, nothing could be more accurately said.

Upon her arrival to the research deck, the sliding doors parting open to reveal the refurbished galactic laboratory she spent a pretty penny to ascertain before departure, Commander Holloway is greeted by the subdued demeanor of Dr. Lynn Tamashi, head researcher aboard the UGES Destiny. Such an arrival was well-prepared for as it was, it being customary for the commander to make one final stop down below before retiring to cryogenic sleep for the night. However, as betrayed by the commander’s unusually gleeful demeanor, an ever-so-slight smirk atop the very corner of her lips, there was in fact something very special about her trip down to the research deck tonight: they had a guest, and an unexpected one at that, her most favorite kind.

“Good evening Commander,” Dr. Tamashi states, bowing her head slightly forward as to show respect to her commanding officer.

“Where is she?” Commander Holloway asks tersely in response, indicating to her subordinate not to waste anymore of her time with the frivolous formalities of a polite greeting.

“In Containment Cell 7,” Dr. Tamashi answers, revealing the contents of the electronic tablet held against her chest, pulling up the vital signs being fed from the chamber. “She was placed immediately in isolation upon arrival, and has been closely monitored since.” Grasping it abruptly from the doctor’s hand, Commander Holloway mulls over the tablet, her smirk slowly transforming into a devious smile of delight as she confirms the presence of their guest.

“Has Central Command been alerted?” the commander asks, noting the long-standing protocol in place by the UGE when interacting with non-Gaian life forms outside of the consulate.

“Not yet, as by your order Commander,” Dr. Tamashi answers, having been put on notice well in advance by Commander Holloway to suspend all official protocol if it would directly interfere with their ship’s primary objective.

“Good: let’s keep it that way,” Commander Holloway responds, handing the tablet back to the doctor. “There’s nothing worse than having the diplomats try to intervene in military operations.”

“Of course Commander,” Dr. Tamashi confirms, bringing up the vitals on the larger display in front of her, the Vitruvian form of their guest scrawled across its glistening screen.

“As you were,” Commander Holloway orders, turning herself towards the adjacent hall that houses all containment cells located on this ship. “Oh, and be sure to freeze all data acquisition on our prisoner for the next hour. Wouldn’t want to be giving any trade secrets here. You understand, don’t you?”

“Yes Commander,” Dr. Tamashi responds, a bit of disappointment coming through as she manually freezes the observation screen on Commander Holloway’s exit.

Making her way into the enclosed space of the adjacent hallway, its width not so much greater than that of the elevator she came down in, Commander Holloway passes a small collection of empty chambers on both sides before reaching Containment Cell 7 at the end. Placing her hand atop the glowing panel to the right of the doorway, a holographic profile of herself projects just above her palm as the secure door unlocks, opening for her passage. Entering the space, with a look of polished yet undeniable pleasure across her face, she is met with the statuesque form of her newly-acquired prisoner: a Cerulean female, tall and lean, with her flawless azure skin glowing brilliantly in the shadowy light of the containment cell, and by any stretch of the imagination, her accommodations were a bit excessive to say the least.

She is bound, hoisted into an X position placed in the middle of the room, with each of her limbs encased in a set of large cylindrical machinery, their interior lined with plush yet constrictive padding around her extremities. Stripped of her white aviation uniform, that which hangs haphazardly from a set of hooks just behind her, the creature is left in what could only be described as a set of silver bra and panties, baring every inch of her toned flesh from below her elbows to just above her knees. Her short light blue locks, those which usually stand hoisted atop her head, hang wearily down the sides of her smooth and supple face. Nestled atop the lower half of her face is a Voice Suppression Apparatus, or VSA for short, the technological equivalent of a muzzle, its glowing green screen displays “0%” as preset by Dr. Tamashi herself.

Waving her hand upward, Commander Holloway activates the overhead lights, flooding the room in its fluorescent glow as the Cerulean female clenches her eyelids, confirming to the commander she has been awake this entire time. As the commander gazes satisfyingly upon the immobile form of her captive, reveling in the extent of her bonds, the extraterrestrial woman begins to look up at her, straining to open her large turquoise eyes as though trying to communicate something, only for the commander to suddenly turn her gaze away.

“I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting my dear,” Commander Holloway states, beginning to encircle the girl just as a predator would their prey. “However, I felt it necessary to dress my best for such an occasion: I mean, it’s not every day we are graced with the presence of Cerulean royalty on this paltry little vessel of ours. I must say, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess Ju’un.” She doesn’t flinch, the Cerulean’s mesmerizing gaze keeping tabs on the commander as, hands held behind her back in dignified fashion, Commander Holloway makes her way behind the bound girl, indulging in the sight of such a helplessly rendered member of the royal family.

“I hope you will forgive us for your accommodations,” the commander notes, dragging her finger across the smooth surface of the mechanism encasing the princess’s left arm. “Diplomatic relations can be very touchy at times, especially when involving members of the royal family. Granted, you did approach my ship at an unusually high velocity, making the prospect of you launching a surprise attack on an official UGE vessel ample justification for your detention. Regardless, it’s in everyone’s best interest that, when we eventually hand his majesty’s daughter back to him, we make sure to do so with not one little hair out of place.”

She speaks casually to her royal captive, dictating her predicament in such a nonchalant manner akin to that of reciting a grocery list, a cool and collected demeanor that fared her well during her time as the de facto interrogator for the UGE’s northern colonies, keeping her detainees mentally on edge up until they finally broke under her influence. However, this time it was different: having been forced to watch over the members of the royal family for such an extended period of time bred an intense sense of disdain for the noble race, being forced to waste her years on this frivolous surveillance mission when she could be on the front lines as we speak. But now, having one of those said members at her complete disposal, it was now her time to get hers.

Circling back to the front of her captive, Commander Holloway takes the girl by the chin, lifting her face to stare squarely into hers as she rubs her thumb atop the surface of the VSA.

“And this little device here?” Commander Holloway notes, sighing in disappointment as a lock icon comes over the top, noting she has no means to access the device at her discretion.

“Courtesy of our insightful Dr. Tamashi, I’m afraid, feeling it best we can prove to the Cerulean monarch that we didn’t pry any sensitive information out of the royal princess during her short stay with us.” Bringing her face closer to that of her captive, her tone of voice suddenly morphs into that of a sensuous murmur.

“But, that doesn’t mean you couldn’t find some way to tell me everything I want to know otherwise,” she notes ominously, watching the princess’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You just need a little bit of...motivation, is all.” She steps back, placing herself right in front of the girl as to guarantee she gets the full picture: gently pinching the tip of her index finger atop her left glove, Commander Holloway begins peeling it off her hand, one by one loosening the fingers right in full view of her prisoner. Little by little, as she strips them of their covering, she reveals a set of dastardly red talons, freshly sharpened as of this afternoon in just the way she likes them to be. With a devious smile across her face, she begins making her way once again around her prisoner, placing herself directly behind the outstretched form of her captive.

“Yes you’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know,” Commander Holloway states, taking the tips of her wriggling fingers, gently motioning them towards the tops of the royal’s outstretched arms. “So, what exactly is a Cerulean princess doing this far outside her home world, hmm?” Having made contact, her sharpened claws glide effortlessly over Princess Ju’un’s smooth flesh, skittering their way down to their ultimate destination. She can feel the girl tremble underneath her fingertips along the way, slowly succumbing to her influence as she finally reaches her bare underarms, watching her jerk against her restraints in futile resistance.

Even given the formidable strength of the Cerulean people, the stalwart nature of these machines cannot be underestimated, having been designed by Commander Holloway herself for the sole purpose of rendering any captive completely unable to resist. Leaning herself forward, the princess can only try to suppress whatever sensation she is feeling as the commander capitalizes on such a vulnerable position, with the girl only able to rock back and forth trying to escape the building torments that befall her.

“Oh, just how lucky am I, hmm?” Commander Holloway asks, poking into the princess’s firm yet delicate flesh at the sides of her bosom, feeling the prominent muscle structure underneath. “I think we have a ticklish one, don’t we?” There was no being in the universe Commander Holloway felt she couldn’t crack: Gaian or Cerulean, every one of her captives, so long as they were subjected to her highly effective methodology, would eventually give in, spilling even their most guarded secrets much to her delight. She could only hope that, one day, she could even get her hands on a Korlos vixen, breaking those most stalwart of a species that has eluded her grasp. But, for the time being, she will settle for this girl, now completely at her mercy.

“I bet you don’t get this type of treatment in the palace, now do you?” Commander Holloway asks her captive, making her way down the princess’s sides, her skittering nails eliciting stifled giggles emanating from behind the device atop her lips. “Don’t worry: you can thank me later.” With absolute ease, she begins exploring the outstretched form of her captive, her sharpened nails grazing their way across her flawless blue-tinted skin. With every new spot she traverses, Commander Holloway merely acquires a fresh batch of intel, the likes of which can only be understood by her tender touch: the way the princess subtly jerks the moment she pinches the undersides of her ribs, how she giggles tirelessly when her nails graze over the length of her belly, and how she tries to suppress her laughter when feeling them traverse the backs of her thighs, only to exert a mighty struggle the moment they dig deep into her flesh, all of which serving only to inform the commander on the best ways to drive her out of her pretty little head.

“Is the princess getting ready to crack?” Commander Holloway asks her, toying with the girl’s vulnerability, just imagining what she could be trying to say behind the VSA clamped atop her mouth. “Well, when you’re ready Princess, you just say the word.” Despite her experience in the craft of tickle torture, Commander Holloway never once considered just how similar Gaian and Cerulean anatomy was, the same techniques proving themselves effective indifferent to race. But, given just how much enjoyment she derived from either, it never really crossed her mind.

Taking each of her fingers, Commander Holloway begins lacing them in between the poor girl’s protruding ribs, sending her into convulsions in her bonds. The princess’s muscles bulge, the lean nature of her physique highlighting every ounce of strain she exerts against these horrendously effective machines, accented by yet another torrent of suppressed laughter from her gullet. Just how hard she is cackling to get through the sound diffuser, shifting from high-pitched cackles to gruff grunts of dismay, only Dr. Tamashi could accurately measure.

“Oh you’re just too much fun my dear,” Commander Holloway notes, releasing her hands from her prisoner, watching her chest heave up and down from such exertion. “But let’s just see what happens when we shake things up a bit.” Moving to the side of the room, Commander Holloway moves her hand in front of a hidden screen, watching a keypad illuminate atop its surface. Inputting a code into the computer, Princess Ju’un suddenly hears the unexpected sound of tiny mechanisms churning below her backside. Turning her head to the side, she is just barely able to catch a glimpse of her feet slowly being exposed from the mechanisms that bind her legs, their prominent form only rivaling that of the commander herself. She sees them upturned towards the ceiling, shackled in a set of mechanical cuffs with sets of glowing energy loops binding her slender toes as well, stretching the length of her feet taut for maximum exposure.

“Beautiful,” Commander Holloway notes, rounding the captured princess as she gazes upon their newly accessible form. “Just what a pleasure it is to have them all to myself, I could not possibly describe. But, as you know, it’d be best to show you.” Taking her sharpened nails, Commander Holloway descends them into the Cerulean’s soles, skittering them across the length of their outstretched form with abandon. Thrusting her head forward, the royal daughter expunges a torrent of guffaws and laughter from her gullet, finally feeling the strain of such prolonged tickle torture. Indulging in her captive’s torments, Commander Holloway can not help but lick the drool from the sides of her mouth: just how the Cerulean people could traverse their home world without footwear, yet still have these buttery soft extremities, ripe for her sharpened talons to caress then with absolute ease, was a mystery Commander Holloway was just fine not understanding.

“Having fun yet?” she asks the poor princess, mewing at the side of her ear as though seducing her senses, still having enough arm’s length to begin digging her nails into her plump heels, eliciting yet another girlish shriek from underneath the gag. “What I wouldn’t do to have a little Cerulean princess as my own slave: all bound up in my quarters, waiting for me every night to derive endless pleasure from. If it were my choice, my dear, this would be your life: bound helpless, with every scrap of clothing discarded, having no choice but to endure nightly doses of torturous tickles across your delicate flesh, forever and always. How does that sound?”

Making her way down to the girl’s toes, she digs in deep, the suppressed cackles from the poor girl seeping their way through her gag, stoking the commander’s imagination on just what she would sound like in her quarters, being treated to the dazzling array of devices she had brought with her out of the awareness of her crew members.

It is true: Commander Holloway’s craft in the art of tickle torture goes far beyond that of a mere career necessity, but of a full-blown obsession, one which she must quench every chance she gets no matter where she is stationed. Just how many captives, be they Gaian and Cerulean, have gone missing by her command is unknown even to her, having been brought to her chambers for a night of forced pleasure, only to later find themselves in the hands of Naruvian slavers. Yet, to masquerade her desires under the guise of the UGE’s motto of “maintaining political stability across the galaxy” gave Commander Holloway a pleasure like no other.

“I don’t think you understand, my dear, just how easy it would be to make it all happen,” Commander Holloway notes, switching back and forth between the girl’s ears as she dictates to her just what fate she could expect. “To make it appear as though you were never even here is something I’m very good at: maybe the database log gets lost, and you little run-in with out ship was never recorded to our files. Maybe your Royal Scout vessel is found lightyears away in an asteroid belt, far away from anybody’s recollection, a most unfortunate end for a promising royal as yourself. How does that sound, my princess?”

As she begins tenderly brushing her fingers at the sides of her immobilized feet, Commander Holloway can see crystalline tears begin to form at the side’s of Princess Ju’un’s eyes, those which are rumored to taste sweet instead of salty. She wishes to ask if those are tears of delight or dismay but, not wishing to bring Dr. Tamashi in to spoil their fun, Commander Holloway merely assumes that those are tears of pure ecstasy.

“Oh the things I could do to you,” she notes, digging deep into her tender soles, watching the girl’s entire body jerk as though trying once again to get free, a tenacity that she would enjoy slowly watching fizzle to nothing during her extended stay with her. “Just imagine it: your people, searching desperately for their princess, all the while not knowing that she was just miles from home, waiting for the rescue that would never come. I’d like nothing more than to make you my precious little tickle toy, but be warned: I’m rough on my toys.”

It cannot be determined what made Princess Ju’un wait this long to make it all end, having had the ability to stop Commander Holloway from the very beginning: maybe it was research, trying to ascertain the level of cruelty she had heard as only rumor about the Gaian people. Maybe she was trying to know exactly who she was dealing with, lest she insult a high-ranking government official and further damage her father’s relationship with the UGE. Maybe she wanted to know if she could procreate with this Gaian female...hey, crazier things have happened.

Either way, by the time Commander Holloway ceases the girl’s torments, the princess is now more than willing to talk.

“Now, I’m going to ask you one more time: just what you were doing leaving your home world in such a hurry?” Commander Holloway asks, rounding herself around the girl, staring her square in the face. Suddenly, surprising the commanding officer, Princess Ju’un’s eyes begin to glow, locking gaze with the commander as she receives a mental image as clear as though she were there herself: she sees a massive stone structure, coming into view as the sacred temple at the heart of the Cerulean kingdom. The closer she gets, the more alien figures she sees, lying atop the ground both inside and out, be they dead or merely knocked unconscious she could not tell. As she peers into the entrance, she catches sight of a shadowy figure swiftly exiting, holding in their arms a glowing object, the brightness of which overtakes her senses, knocking her out of the vision.

“The Dashi’i Crystal,” Commander Holloway mumbles to herself, turning away before Princess Ju’un can communicate further. “So, the rumors are true: the Cerulean people’s sacred relic has been stolen. I’ve heard the myths surrounding that artifact: such power it contains to keep the Cerulean people at peace for this long. Know this, princess: the UGE would do anything to take hold of that artifact without getting their own hands dirty, but they don’t have something that I have. That’s right: I have a little princess, eager to help.”

“Oh, I know I said I’d be returning you to your father,” Commander Holloway notes, turning back to the confused prisoner. “But, since you’ve been so forthcoming with the information I desired, it would be in our best interest to keep you as our guest for the foreseeable future. Don’t worry: you’ll be well accommodated.” She leaves the chamber, not looking back as the doors slide shut, locking in the prisoner for the night. Making her way down the hall, she comes once again into contact with Dr. Tamashi, her demeanor turned resolute and determined.

“I want the prisoner’s tongue well-loosened by my return,” she commands, walking away without looking back. “Initiate Protocol Canary. Let’s get her to sing, shall we?”

Back in her cell, Princess Ju’un is recovering from her torments, chest heaving, head hung forward in exhaustion. Suddenly, she hears a noise, followed by another, and another until she feels surrounded by a mechanistic churning the likes of which she has heard before. Just opening her left eye, she is dumbfounded to discover a dozen spinning brushes in approach, their targets being her most vulnerable spots, that which she confirms to also be true for her highly vulnerable feet set just behind her.

It is going to be nothing short of a long night for our Cerulean princess.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Episode Two - A Bare Naked Truth

Aboard the UGES Destiny, down in the research laboratory of this small spacecraft, Dr. Lynn Tamashi is found sitting atop her desk, directing her attention towards the large projection screen on the adjacent wall that, at this moment, is displaying live surveillance video from Containment Cell 7. She can see Ju’un, the Cerulean princess who, just recently, has become less so their esteemed guest and more so their helpless prisoner. Her upper and lower extremities are bound in a set of formidable cylindrical machinery, hoisting her into an X-position in the middle of this isolated chamber. She is currently being subjected to a barrage of merciless tickle torture by way of several spinning brushes placed all across her body, a process in which has been referred to as “Protocol Canary” due to its knack for getting the most stubborn of subjects to sing in a matter of moments.

Fighting valiantly against her restraints, she cackles and hollers breathlessly into the VSA placed atop her lips, left all by her lonesome for the autonomous mechanisms to shred her resolve into pieces by the time her interrogation continues the next morning. However, if she felt that time to be soon approaching, then she would be sadly disappointed, for it will be another five grueling hours before she is relinquished of this torment. Such would not be true relief, though, for she will only yet again be delivered into the clutches of the deviously effective Commander Grace Holloway who, after their initial encounter, is currently asleep in her private quarters, dreaming up new ways in which to torment her newly acquired plaything.

From her smooth and tender underarms, down to her sensitive upturned feet, not one inch of her azure-tinted flesh is left unscathed by these dastardly effective implements, driving the poor alien girl out of her pretty little head, all the while a silent observer watches her from down the hall, secretly reveling in her torments as we speak. Taking the edge of her thumb, Dr. Tamashi begins to drag it across her cheek, wiping the saliva from the side of her lips after having fallen into a trance gazing upon the voluptuous space vixen writhing in the mechanisms of her own design.

“Research Log: Friday December 20, 457 AU at 3:25 AM,” Dr. Tamashi dictates, speaking into a small recording device held just in front of her lips. “Subject has been in complete isolation since her initial encounter with Commander Holloway. The commanding officer left the specimen in quite an exhausted state, even before initiating Protocol Canary approximately 4.57 hours ago.” She gazes intensely into the screen, having a bird’s eye view of every twitch and tremor, struggle and strain the young alien woman can muster, deriving great pleasure from the experience, both for her ongoing research as well as for more personal reasons.

A precocious young woman from an early age, Lynn Jennifer Tamashi would soon attract the attention of the UGE, having displayed a keen understanding of Gaian behavior, as well as a distinct interest in keeping law and order throughout the cosmos. In her third year at the academy, Dr. Tamashi was plucked out of her rigorous studies to serve her government in a particular way: designing mechanisms that could “process” enemies of the stage as effectively and efficiently as they could be done covertly. It just so happened that the young lady harbored a hidden lust for tickle torture, regardless of the circumstances in which it was administered, a fact that, had her superiors been fully aware of that little quirk of hers, they would have still done nothing to stop it, placing social order above all else. Utilizing her know-how of Gaian psychology and physiology, she took it upon herself to explore her own methods of coercion, crafting tools that would ultimately be used the galaxy over in quelling even the most vocal of outcries from the general populus. What makes her that much more effective is that, even at the height of her success, she is still one who strives to continuously add to her research, making their recent acquisition even more valuable.

“Much has been determined over these short hours of observation,” Dr. Tamashi notes, turning away from the screen on the wall unto the one atop her desk, one which displays the vital signs of their prisoner. “Upon initial testing, the subject seems to have a heightened sensitivity response as compared to equal Cerulean subjects, a byproduct of her sheltered lifestyle in the royal palace as can be presumed. Sensitivity response is rivaled only by a select few Gaian specimens, especially those as part of Test Group C46.” It is a well-kept secret of the UGE that the acquisition of test subjects for ongoing experiments are executed for politically motivated reasons, those that are primarily inflicted upon unruly colonials who just happened to sneeze in the wrong direction on a particularly bad day, and luckily for Dr. Tamashi, given the continuous political unrest throughout the galaxy, that only meant a steady stream of new test subjects to hone her methods on, a detail that may come back to bite her in the near future.

“Physical readings have shown a steady drop in exertion rates,” she says, a slight sigh escaping her lips. “This is most likely indicating a gradual mental acceptance of the sensory stimuli, ensuring a 27% increase in the effectiveness of her subsequent interrogation. More analysis will have to be done regarding the subject’s mental state though, just so long as it is done under the guise of…” Suddenly, from down the hall, she hears the jarring sound of glass breaking, a sound which turns her as white as a sheet, believing her prisoner having escaped just as she had her back turned. However, she glances swiftly back up at her screen, only to find the Cerulean right where they left her, still writhing in her ticklish torments, without even a hair having been moved out of its place. Breathing a sigh of relief, reminding herself that she had completely locked down her laboratory after Commander Holloway’s departure, Dr. Tamashi can only surmise there to be one logical culprit.

“UBI, is that you again?!” Dr. Tamashi calls down the hall, directing her anger towards her virtual assistant UBI-143, a new form of fully sentient program she hopes one day to replace the deadweight crew she is forced to look upon while immersed in her secretive research. However, as advanced as she was, UBI was merely a prototype, meaning that she had a lot of testing to go through before being fully field ready, her inherent clumsiness being one of the reasons as to why that just hasn’t happened yet.

“It wasn’t me Dr. Tamashi,” a detached female voice responds, with the image of a woman’s face materializing as a 3D object in front of her. “I promise.” Dr. Tamashi fails to believe her faithful assistant, given that there was no other possibility other than a coding malfunction. However, given that she would need to deactivate her assistant in order to fix the problem, she can only think that UBI has learned the art of lying from her creator, employing it to avoid going dormant for what she fears could be forever.

“Whatever,” Dr. Tamashi responds, huffing in exasperation, given another temperamental being she is going to have to deal with during her time up here. “Go give a psychological screening to our prisoner: Containment Cell 7, quickly.”

“Yes Dr. Tamashi,” UBI-143 responds, dissipating into thin air. Placing herself atop her black high heels, Dr. Tamashi begins making her way through the adjacent hall, passing a small collection of research facilities she had designed herself for her research. Gradually making her way to the end of the hall, she finds a doorway having been left open, that which she is sure was not left that way moments ago. Passing through its opening, the darkened space shrouding her surroundings, she spots the remnants of a beaker across the floor, believing herself to have found the evidence of UBI’s misdeed. Suddenly, she is ambushed by a darkened figure, quickly making its way behind her before she can even move.

“WHERE AM I?!” the unknown figure screeches forth, wrapping their arm around Dr. Tamashi’s upper body, pressing a sliver of broken glass right up to the doctor’s gullet, just a few ounces of pressure away from slicing open her carotid artery. Dr. Tamashi is paralyzed, a mixture of fear and bewilderment keeping her still as a board: who are they? How did they get on this ship? How could they have bypassed security? Knowing that they had not intercepted any other ships for the past three weeks, she has absolutely no idea just who she is or how she got up on this ship, but right now, all she is concerned with is getting out of this alive.

“Right now you are on board the UGES Destiny,” Dr. Tamashi coolly responds, trying to keep calm with the unhinged figure long enough to figure a way out of this predicament. “This is a government research vessel stationed 7,500 miles outside of the Cerulean home world. Now, if I could just get your name, then I can…”

“I’m the one asking the questions here!” the figure cuts her off, pressing the glass deeper against the doctor’s gullet. “You’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know, got it?!” By the tone of the figure’s voice, Dr. Tamashi can now tell she is dealing with a woman, which is even more strange, given the lack of female operatives within the UGE ranks who could come aboard this ship unannounced as such.

“I got it,” Dr. Tamashi quietly responds, hoping to stall the woman long enough for her assistant to come back to save her. Looking in the reflective glass of the cabinet right in front of her, she is confronted with a detail that is as much startling as it is revelatory: the woman is naked.

“I take it you came up through our short-range teleportation system,” Dr. Tamashi asks her. A marvel of advanced technology, the device allows the transportation of organic matter across distances of up to 10,000 miles from one platform to another. However, given that government-issued clothing is non-organic, it takes a special suit to use with the device, lest your clothes are vaporized in transit, and you are delivered to your friends and colleagues in your birthday suit. “There is a set of clothes in the closet there, if you’d like me to…”

“Shut up!” the woman screams, further placing the doctor on edge. “You’re not going anywhere until I get answers! You don’t think I’d kill you where you stand? Just try me!” Now things are getting desperate, and if nobody was going to save her, then Dr. Tamashi would just have to take care of this all by herself.

“Look, if you will just calm down, then we can take you back from where you came and…” she begins to console the woman, only to feel the glass be pressed deeper into her neck, a small stream of blood running down atop her lab coat.

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the woman tersely asks her, grunting in a hushed yet forceful tone into Dr. Tamashi’s left ear. “You’d love to just send me hurling into the nearest sun, or dropped off in a nearby asteroid field, wouldn’t you? You UGE scum are all the same: conniving, untrustworthy, nothing but cogs in the machine.” Suddenly, Dr. Tamashi catches glimpse out of the corner of her eye a stream of the woman’s bright red hair, suddenly illuminating to her the woman’s true identity: Maya Fitzpatrick, the Gaian rebel dubbed a galactic terrorist by the UGE, having eluded authorities since her recent escape from the central prison complex on their home world. It is here, having acquired this new intel, that Dr. Tamashi knows just what she has to do.

“Now tell me: what exactly is this place?” the woman her one more time, ready to make do with Dr. Tamashi in one swipe of her wrist.

“It’s many things to many different people,” Dr. Tamashi tenderly states, a devious smile slowly taking over her face out of the woman’s view. “To the UGE, this is a research vessel, tasked with the retrieval of valuable information pertaining to the Cerulean monarchy. To others, this is Hell…lights.” The overhead lights suddenly come on, momentarily blinding the woman as she slowly regains her vision, confronted with a sight she is unfortunately too familiar with: an interrogation suite, its porcelain walls lined with the various implements of the trade, and nestled in the middle of the room sits a large padded chair, just her size.

Suddenly, before she can jump out of the way, Maya is blind sighted by Dr. Tamashi, as the petite woman thrusts her hips backwards, knocking the Gaian rebel straight into the plush leather of the chair. The moment her bottom hits the seat, several thick leather straps jettison out from underneath its surface, wrapping themselves across her chest, hips, arms, legs, and seemingly everything in between. Trying to keep hold of the sliver of glass between her fingers, Maya can only watch as it slips from her grasp, falling atop the floor as her vestige of control is stripped from her for good.

Now, she is trapped.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” Dr. Tamashi states, gazing upon her new guest, and an unexpected one at that, her favorite kind. “Of all the people I expected to meet out here, I never would have imagined being in contact with the Maya Fitzpatrick, high-priced fugitive and sworn enemy of the UGE. It is a pleasure, I must say.” She watches as the young woman struggles against her restraints, trying with all her might to find the same weak point in her bondage that she used to escape from prison the last time, only to elicit a chuckle from the good doctor.

“I hope you’re not trying to leverage your way out of this one, my dear!” Dr. Tamashi patronizingly notes, watching her captive’s face turn white as a sheet from hearing those words. “What, you think we wouldn’t have learned from our mistakes by now? We fixed that little locking mechanism’s weakness the moment you escaped, much to your fellow prisoners’ delight. Oh yes, I am well aware of what your accommodations must have been like at Ginseng Correctional Facility because, well, I just so happened to design them.” Maya tries to hide the horrid fear building up inside of her, staring down the good doctor with a look that marries righteous indignation with all-out defiance. However, nothing inside of her could quell the terror quelling right underneath the surface, that which Dr. Tamashi has developed a keen sense for during her time in the UGE.

“Yes, I’ve had quite the amount of time to perfect this little chair of mine. It pays to have your own personal laboratory so far away from government oversight. You have such freedom to experiment, if you know what I mean. In fact, let me show you.” Clapping her hands in the air, Dr. Tamashi initiates a thick strap to jettison out of the head rest, binding Maya’s cranium back to the plush material. Just as that happens, a set of hand-like mechanisms make their way towards her eyes, forcing her eyelids open from the top and bottom, giving off the expression of sheer terror from the galactic villain.

“I’ve found that my methods work best when our prisoners have no choice but to witness them,” Dr. Tamashi says, turning away as she approaches the adjacent wall, grasping upon a device right out of Maya’s view. “It makes it so much easier to gauge the response rate of each torture we inflict upon them. And, speaking of experimentation, I hope you will help me in testing out these little devices here.” She turns around, displaying a new tool that makes Maya gasp in fear: two gloves, each tipped with one-inch metal strips. Placing herself just before Maya’s helplessly bare feet, Dr. Tamashi activates the gloves, as the tips begin vibrating at supersonic speeds right before her eyes.

“I must thank you for delivering yourself to me naked my dear,” Dr. Tamashi notes, gazing at Maya’s prominent size ten feet she could have only dreamed of getting a taste of. “It makes the process of preparing you for the procedure so much easier for me.” Slowly directing her dastardly implements into Maya’s soles, Dr. Tamashi takes care in further immobilizing her outer appendages, initiating a set of wires that wrap themselves around Maya’s long plump toes, prying her feet back to the point of immobility. The moment they finally make contact, their oscillating tips grazing over her soles, Maya jerks forth, a brief effort to try and resist but, in a few short minutes, the dam breaks, and the torrent of her suffering begins to flow.

“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she bellows, thrusting her head back as far as it will go, cackling with a force she has not experienced for quite some time. Her laughter turns to screams in a matter of moments, feeling every little sensation rip the tortured cries right out of her strained gullet. Luckily for the doctor, she had preemptively installed noise mitigating devices into her ears, making Maya’s tortured screams as delectable as they were disheartening.

“Ah yes, now that’s the sound I miss the most!” Dr. Tamashi exclaims, brushing the metal tips of her gloves over the sides of Maya’s feet, watching as they attempt desperately to swing themselves out of her reach to no avail. “How are you liking my new toys up there? Are they getting the job done, hmm?”

“NNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Maya cries out, the combination of the woman’s taunting voice and continuous flashbacks of her time spent in captivity making the whole experience that much more unbearable.

“SSTTTAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAPPPP IIIIITTTTTTT!!” She is absolutely livid, being driven from 0 to 100 in a matter of moments, subjected to the ticklish torments of a woman who invented the art itself. Feeling the dastardly devices graze up to the tender flesh just below her toes, Maya suddenly feels herself losing grasp of reality, just as they plunge into that most delicate skin.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” she squeals, a silent shriek interspersed between torrents of cackling laughter she never thought she would have to relive again.
“PPPLLLEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEASE!!” Maya shouts at the tops of her lungs, begging for her suffering to cease, feeling every tiny implement make quick work of her flailing feet. The doctor was right: to be forced to gaze upon every moment of her torments was a Hell like none other, having lost the ability to mentally displace herself if but momentarily to alleviate even a modicum of her suffering. She could only watch in full view her captor’s unabridged delight in driving this woman clear out of her pretty little head.

“Oh don’t worry dear,” Dr. Tamashi notes, gazing up at her newly acquired captive with a gaze that is devilish as it is inquisitive. “This is just a warm-up: we’ll start the real interrogation in the morning, once Commander Holloway joins us for the day.” It is as though the floor has fallen out from under her: that name, that person, having thought herself rid of her once she escaped. It was Commander Holloway that initially captured her, keeping her on board her ship for a full month before relinquishing her into custody, subjecting her to the most degrading forms of “interrogation” methods she could never dream of.

To be subjected to that same level of torture was a fate Maya couldn’t consider enduring, not again. She tries to fight it, tries to keep hold of her sanity to try and figure a way out of this mess, but it is no use: she is hopelessly trapped, subject to the same hellish torments that plagued her daily during her extended confinement, those that she will most likely be condemned to for the rest of her life if she stays any longer. It is too much, and in one act of desperation, she opens her mouth, sticking out her tongue in an attempt to end her own life. However, just as that is about to happen, she feels two sets of metal wires suddenly insert themselves into her mouth, pressing themselves against her teeth, keeping her from ending her interrogation prematurely.

“Oh, now where’s the fun in that sweetie?” Dr. Tamashi asks her, gazing upon her now fully helpless prisoner. “You’ve probably got more than a few stories to tell before doing that. Yes, we learned long ago that you rebels need as much protection from yourselves as anything else!” Taking a nob atop her left glove, she turns it slightly, as Maya watches the tips turn bright purple much to her dismay.

“Oh yes, it could get worse young lady!” Dr. Tamashi exclaims, watching as the tortured girl begins sobbing in her presence. “These tips can be electrified as well, pumping a torrent of current right into your most accessible spots, inciting your nerve endings to create a 54% increase in sensitivity response. I hope you’re ready girlie, because this is going to get a whole lot wor…” She stops for a moment, her face turning blank much to Maya’s surprise. Suddenly, Dr. Tamashi falls to the ground in front of her, just as Maya spots the form of the Cerulean princess Ju’un standing above, her hand glowing bright blue before dissipating away.

“Let’s get you out of here,” says Ju’un, clapping her hands twice as the belts around Maya begin receding, relinquishing the broken woman unto the floor. Despite being freed, Maya finds herself curling up in a protective position, having not known just how she has managed to be freed as of yet. “I’m sure you’ve been through a lot, but I feel it would be best for the both of us to escape this vessel before anyone else will…”

“What did you do to her?” Maya asks, interrupting her rescuer, still staring at the ground, recoiling from such a traumatic experience.

“It’s nothing much: I simply trapped her in a mental prison of my own design,” Ju’un responds, placing her hands atop her hips, looking down upon the Gaian woman in front of her. “She’ll live out the environment of my choosing until I break her out of the spell, or until the next solar storm, whichever comes first. Why do you…”

“Make it Hell!” Maya tells her, a wrath within her voice like none other.

“You Gaians are certainly a vindictive species,” Ju’un responds, as her hand motions towards the crown of the unconscious Dr. Tamashi, its glow shifting from blue to red just as her facial expression morphs as well. “It is done. Like I said before, we should make our way to the exit before anyone else will stumble upon us.”

“Whatever you say alien,” Maya tells her, raising herself up from the floor, laying eyes on the full statuesque form of the Cerulean woman. “I need to find some clothes first.” They make their way out of the room, rounding the hall to make their escape as soon as possible.

Deep in Dr. Tamashi’s subconscious, she finds herself having awoken in a most unfortunate position: stripped completely naked, she has been placed in the same interrogation chair as Maya, bound in every way possible, having no way of escape. Suddenly, out of the darkness surrounding her comes a copy of herself, followed by another, and another until she is surrounded by twelve copies, each holding in their hands a different implement she has crafted for tickle torture. As they make their approach, her pleads turn to shrieks, being subjected to a torrent of merciless tickle torture by her very own design.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Episode Three - A Failure to Elucidate

Aboard the UGES Destiny, down in the research laboratory of the small spacecraft, galactic fugitive Maya Fitzpatrick slowly makes her way out of the interrogation suite, peering about as to make sure nobody is around to hinder her escape. She is accompanied by the likes of Princess Ju’un, a Cerulean royal who has also found herself aboard this ship, and not by her own accord: having been captured leaving her home world by order of Commander Holloway, she was subsequently detained in Containment Cell 7, processed at the hands of the esteemed officer, as well as the myriad of torturous tools at her disposal, in the hopes of having her divulge any information as to why such a delicate creature would be found so far away from the protection of the royal palace.

Having somehow freed herself from those inescapable bonds she found herself in, Princess Ju’un subsequently rescued the fiery-haired woman from the not-so tender touch of Dr. Lynn Tamashi, using her moment of tickle-induced distraction to place the renowned scientist in a mental prison of her own design, having her live out the same hellish torments she had inflicted on countless others during her long tenure. Now, having found themselves but a moment of freedom, the two must make their way towards the transportation deck of the UGES Destiny, the location where Princess Ju’un’s royal vessel is being held, in hopes of commandeering the ship and escaping this dastardly place once and for all.

Having been mistakenly transported unto the Gaian vessel without her clothes, Maya has made it her first priority to retrieve some article of clothing, making her that much less conspicuous than having her walk around buck-naked on this accursed ship. Her throbbing size nine feet, having just been freed from the extensive torments at the hands of the always-thorough scientist, gently tiptoe their way atop the solid enamel floor underneath her, making their way into the central research lab she has just now gained access to. Fumbling around the room, Maya discovers a small closet nestled in the corner of the space, holding a stash of clothing belonging to the good doctor. However, due to the size difference between them, what she finds is anything but ideal: donning a white blouse, black skirt, and black nylons, Maya tries in vain to slip into a pair of sneakers which, like all the rest of her clothing, is just two sizes too small, leaving her to make her escape without a lick of footwear. Turning around to face the alien woman, she shows off her exposed midriff, along with her toned legs and shapely soles.

“Great: I look like a prostitute,” Maya states, trying to pull down her clothing enough so as not to attract any more attention than she already is.

“But a reasonably affordable one at that,” Princess Ju’un says in response, with Maya not knowing if she had just been insulted or complimented in this alien female’s unique way. However, she shakes herself out of it, knowing they haven’t a moment to lose.

“Come on,” Maya says, waving her hand to have the princess follow her. “We’ve gotta get out of here as soon as possible.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” Princess Ju’un inquires, following close behind.

“Hell if I know!” Maya shoots back. “I just know I’m not staying here!” Passing through the main laboratory, Maya and Ju’un peer through each adjacent hallway, hoping that not a soul stumbles upon them in such unfamiliar territory. Glancing down the hall, Maya catches glimpse of Containment Cell 7, having been left in its exact state as it was when the Cerulean royal was trapped in its clutches: noting the hellish contraption Ju’un was confined in, its succession of torturous limbs hanging limp all around its perimeter, the formidable image of the device sends several shockwaves down the hardened criminal’s spine.

“Holy Hydrogen Girl!” Maya exclaims, her already-pale face turning that much more so from such a dastardly sight. “How in the name of her blessed light did you get out of that one?”

“You are aware of how I subdued the dark-haired Gaian, correct?” Ju’un asks the distraught galactic terrorist, receiving a suppressed gaze of confusion from her companion. “Well, if you were not aware, all Cerulean lifeforms possess telepathic abilities unique to our civilization, passed down from our ancestors as to unify us regardless of how far we may be from one another. This gives us the ability to not only mentally connect with each other, but with other complex lifeforms, even letting us communicate with those species with native tongues unlike our own. Even now, I am tapping into your consciousness, deciphering my language into a form which is most understood to you without losing its primary meaning.”

“So what the Hell does that even mean?!” Maya spurts, not knowing if she had just been called cheap and dumb in the last two minutes. “Did you bore the machines to death or something?”

“Not exactly: given the right circumstances, a Cerulean can even influence the thoughts and actions of another organism, shaping their behaviors in their image, so long as the connection is not broken. As you saw with the physician I incapacitated, I can better have access to them when having lost consciousness, but even those who are awake are accessible to me.” They slowly make their way towards the adjacent hallway, which houses the personal elevator of the Commander herself, not wishing to come into contact with her anytime soon.

“So what: did you entice one of the other cronies on this ship with your “feminine” alien sexuality, or something?” Maya cracks, not knowing if Ju’un could use her telepathy to make her skull explode if provoked, yet not having the foresight to let it hinder a bit of humor still left in her. “I’m just kidding, you know.”

“Not exactly,” Ju’un notes, as they round the corner, making their way into the enclosed space, now more vulnerable than they could have ever imagined. “You see, in the midst of my confinement, having full faculty of my powers despite the paltry coercion techniques you Gaians call “torture” of all things, I was visited by the floating façade of one virtual assistant named UBI-143. I must say, for you Gaians to be so advanced as to endow your automated software with human sentience, you really didn’t foresee the possibility of even the most juvenile of Cerulean youths to commandeer an entire government vessel.”

“I’ll make sure to bring it up at our next board meeting,” Maya sarcastically states, feeling her way around the floor of the elevator, grasping upon a service hatch embedded within the floor, revealing a metal ladder descending into the lower level of the ship. “So, you took control of that bitch’s virtual assistant, did you?” Gazing up at the elevator, Maya notes the top light beginning to flash, indicating its sole occupant is approaching them this very moment.

“I wouldn’t use that terminology,” Ju’un answers, her calm soothing voice still making Maya uneasy as to just how she could behave so nonchalantly throughout this entire situation, their arch nemesis just seconds away from having them locked in this hellish place forever. “I merely influenced the digital creature to believe itself to have made a terrible error in confining me, releasing me from its hold as though I were its commanding officer. I also made sure to wipe all surveillance footage from her archives, as well as reprogram it to unlock all necessary access doors throughout the ship that would best aid our eventual escape.” Climbing down the small metal ladder, Maya gestures for the princess to follow her, descending into the transportation bay underneath them as the hatch closes shut from above.

“I just wish you could have programmed it to blow up the ship just as we are taking off!” Maya exclaims, slowing down to catch her breath, having heard nobody down in this part of the vessel. “At least, if not everybody, then that witch of a commanding officer Holloway.” She glances up at the Cerulean princess, recognizing a devilish smile atop her subdued yet seductive lips, the likes of which she could only barely fathom the depths of depravity behind…

Exiting her personal elevator down in the research wing of her space vessel, Commander Holloway steps out underneath the bright fluorescent lights, having prepared herself in the same manner as the night previous, military garb and all. It satisfied her to derive such enjoyment from merely carrying out her official duties, ensuring the safety of the galaxy from the likes of those who only hope to sow discord and chaos, all the while dressed in the uniform that invoked fear in her adversaries. However, what is different this time is what is nestled in her hands: a thick blindfold in her left, along with a pair of black leather gloves in her right, the fingers of which adorned with pointed bronze talons that have broken a thousand spirits before them, a fine choice in confronting the likes of what she expects to be a readily submissive alien prisoner.

“I can’t believe I neglected to utilize these during our first session,” Commander Holloway speaks softly, dictating to herself with a sly smile across her lips. “If our prisoner had given us more time to prepare for her arrival, then I could have utilized my time with her more effectively. Ah well: I’m sure we’ll be making up for lost time today, and I’m sure Lynn has amply prepared her for my arrival.” She hoists her hand to her lips, gently wiping the saliva from the side of her mouth, losing control of herself sometimes, but always out of sight of those who may be watching.

“So, how’s our prisoner today, Dr. Tamashi?” Commander Holloway calls out, rounding the corner to her favorite researcher’s private lab. “Have we broken her spirit alrea…” She stops, her mouth falling agape: turning the corner, she finds the door to Containment Cell 7 wide open, with her favorite guest long gone. She drops her belongings atop the floor, more enraged than anything else, believing the good doctor to have removed her prisoner for some unauthorized one-on-one time with the salacious little alien princess. It wasn’t the first time she has done this, but it will most certainly be the last.

“TAMASHI!!” she exclaims, storming her way through the adjacent hallway, her heavy boots pounding against the enamel floor, echoing through the enclosed space. “JUST WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOL…” She enters the interrogation room, finding the pitiful sight of Dr. Tamashi: laying atop the cold floor, she is curled up in a fetal position, still trapped in a mental prison of Ju’un’s design. Hovering over her favorite researcher, Commander Holloway grasps her by the collar, having thought that her days of huffing Cerulean love gas were long behind the struggling scientist.

“Where is she!?” Commander Holloway demands, shaking the unconscious woman’s shoulder. “Where’s the princess?! Tell me!” She gets no answer, only the constant flow of stifled giggles and incoherent babbles from the renowned researcher. She drops Dr. Tamashi atop the floor, reaching towards her belt to the panic button atop her buckle, ready to lockdown the entire ship if need be. Just as she is about to press the button, she is interrupted by a familiar voice.

“Prisoner located!” enters a soothingly automated voice, that which is emanating from the mouth of UBI-143.

“UBI!” Commander Holloway exclaims, jerking herself around, finding the materialized form of the digital assistant floating right behind her. “Dammit, what the hell did I tell you about…wait, you have? Where is she?! Tell me right now, or I’ll give you a virus like none befo…”

“Apprehending the prisoner!” UBI-143 exclaims, just as four metallic tentacles jettison out from the adjacent wall, headed right towards the commanding officer.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Commander Holloway shouts, booking it away from the appendages making a beeline right towards her. “GET AWAY FROM ME THIS INSTANT!!” She glances behind her, making out the flexible tentacles inching their way swiftly towards her. She tries to make it to the emergency shutdown switch atop the wall, that which is only reserved for times of power overload, but not this time: just inches away from the big red button, a tentacle grasps her by the ankle, plunging her unto the ground as another wraps around her other ankle, with her wrists soon to follow.

“THIS IS MUTINY!!” she exclaims, feeling herself being pulled towards the adjacent wall, slamming against its surface, knocking the wind out of her but momentarily. Her hair tossed against her forehead, she watches as all four of her limbs are spread wide, rendering her completely immobilized. “YOU LET ME GO THIS INSTANT!! THAT’S AN ORDER!!”

“Only Commander Holloway is able to give me orders, prisoner!” UBI-143 states, materializing just in front of the captive commander, gazing straight into her fury-laden eyes. “And she has given me but one order as of today: Initiating Protocol Canary.” The color is swiftly syphoned out of Commander Holloway’s face, those words having been the bane of several detainee’s existence, now being thrust upon her in such a dastardly fate. Gazing all around her, she can see four more tentacles jettisoning from the wall’s surface, just as they begin snaking their way underneath the sleeves of her uniform.

“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!” she shrieks forth, jerking mightily against her restraints, finding that they do not budge but an inch in any direction. “I’LL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS UBI!!” She can feel their smooth surface, slowly making their way to her underarms, those which are kept freshly shaved along with the rest of her pristine body. She can then feel the tips of the nibs licking against her smooth armpits, frenetically caressing their way over her enclosed yet fully vulnerable flesh, vibrating their way across her tantalized flesh. It is only a matter of seconds that her pursed lips peel open, as the dam finally bursts along with all her pent-up laughter.

‘WWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” Commander Holloway cackles in forced mirth, having never imagined herself being on the receiving end of the torturous methods she had perfected to such a high degree the entirety of her military career. “GEEEEEEHEHEHET AWAYYYYYYYYYYHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEEEE!!” They show her no mercy, exactly as they were programmed to do, reading every nerve ending they touch as to formulate the best known methods of taking her over the edge. Such was the result of their constant research up here: the creation of a perpetually learning interrogation apparatus, that which would break its detainees as fast as they were apprehended, and for the time being, Commander Holloway is said detainee.

“NNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOO!!” she shrieks at the tops of her lungs, feeling their dastardly tips make their way down her sides, massaging their way in between her prominently protruding ribs. Her rippling muscles do nothing but deter the autonomous appendages from invading every crease and crevice, their vibrating tips inciting every nerve ending in her body to a horrendous degree. With every inch they explore, a small piece of her clothing is torn away, her pristine uniform being reduced to tatters by all the friction building up below.

“Resistance is futile, prisoner!” UBI-143 states, her cold voice now having a fire behind it Commander Holloway has never heard before. “This is what you get for what you did to Dr. Tamashi!” In her state of forced laughter, her face contorting in the most horrid of expression, Commander Holloway can barely comprehend just what this program is saying: has UBI malfunctioned? In what way could she possibly think that she has the right individual in her grasp? Whatever the reason may be for the mix-up, one thing is for sure: there will be no UBI once she regains control of her ship.

“Had enough yet prisoner?” UBI-143 asks her, just as the tears of frustration begin collecting at the sides of her eyes, shooting a defiant glance at her captor that was as much reflexive as deliberate. “Have it your way: initiating Phase Two.” Far below, Commander Holloway feels the sensation that tears a little shred of her sanity right from her: gazing down, she sees her thick boots being slowly tugged off, little by little despite pushing her toes against the soles of her boot. However, little by little, weakened by the tickling she is already receiving above in her midsection, she feels her shoes being taken from her, driving her into another level of sheer desperation.

“NNNAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHATT THEHEHEHEHEHERE!!” she demands one final time, now poised to utilize the emergency shutoff code she had left in her arsenal, knowing that they would be without their autopilot for 24 hours in the process, but not having the wherewithal to stand this for even a second longer. “ECHO BRAVO NINER NINER…REPEAT ECHMPH!!” However, just as she is to repeat the code for posterity, she finds one of these dastardly tentacles having wedged themselves between her teeth, stifling her desperate act to save herself, just as the boots are taken from her possession.

“Save your confession for the commander, alien scum!” UBI-143 interjects, just as Commander Holloway’s heavy boots collapse onto the floor underneath, her stark black socks slipped off her feet in one breath. “For attempting to defy my commander’s orders, you will be severely punished.” Commander Holloway watches as the tentacles transform, with their ends splaying off into a multitude of appendages better suited for a more delicate procedure. She can feel several small tentacles wrapping themselves around each one of her long bare toes, prying them backwards despite her resistance, leaving the bottoms of her feet completely vulnerable. Just as this happens, several spinning brushes make their way from out of the wall, those same ones that ravaged Princess Ju’un endlessly throughout the night. Making contact atop her baby soft soles and heels, she begins to wildly against that wall the moment they make contact.

“MMMMMMMMMRRRRRRRRRRHPPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP!!” Commander Holloway exclaims, clenching her eyelids as tight as they will go, hoping to wake herself from this eternal nightmare like none other. They ravage her body, the same brushes that scavenged every tickle spot on her Cerulean prisoner, hoisted in the same precariously vulnerable position as though it were built just for her. Her underarms, rubs, belly, legs, feet, every inch of her has been transformed into a lightning rod, attracting the most electrifying of ticklish sensations coursing through every fiber of her being. She feels so pathetic, so vulnerable, having nothing left in her but to sink her teeth into the metal, a mixture of frustration and outrage bubbling up inside of her that she can do nothing about.

“I hope you’re learning your lesson prisoner,” UBI-143 goads her captive, having begun to ease her futile struggles against such torturous tickles across her exposed flesh.“A message from the Commander, denizen!” A digital screen appears before her which, much to her utter dismay, is displaying the façade of the captive Princess Ju’un, speaking into the video recorder as though she were the commanding officer.

“Greetings, officially acquired lifeform,” Princess Ju’un addresses her future captive. “It is I: the commanding officer of this Gaian ship, for clearly, that is what I am. You are currently in the possession of the UGE, having been deemed a danger to all Gaian people across the cosmos. Please refrain from any begging, pleading, crying, and general expulsion of bodily fluids during the interrogation process. UBI-143: I want the prisoner fully aware of her misdeeds, and ripe for a confession by the time I get back. Make sure she doesn’t talk until then.” Her piercing gaze softens, as Commander Holloway feels a sensation she has not experienced since many years past: submission. The intensity of this sensation is apparent, having been bested by the likes of her prisoner, now confined in a torturous situation like none other, all because she underestimated the Cerulean girl as she now knows never to do.

“Understood Commander,” UBI-143 says, making the screen recede just as she begins addressing her prisoner once again. “Here’s some advice: don’t try to defy the commander’s orders. Just submit to the processing, and once the commander returns, she will decide if you’re fit for release, or would be better suited as a Naruvian slave, dropped off in the nearest territory, where you will live the rest of your life in forced servitude. Please consider that before acting out against the betterment of the UGE, and thank you for joining us this fine even…” Mid-sentence, UBI-143’s voice begins trailing off, suddenly ceasing as the lights in her eyes dissipate, the image fading into nothing. Suddenly, just as it all began, her torments cease: the tentacles receding into the wall, Commander Holloway finds herself collapsing onto the floor, coughing as she intakes as much oxygen as she can. Hoisting herself unto her knees, her pristine uniform reduced to tatters barely clinging to the voluptuous vixen, she is met with the ever-unimpressed gaze of Earl the maintenance man. Pressing his coke-bottle glasses further atop his nose, the gruff handyman huffs in tiresome fashion.

“Commander Holloway,” he addresses the esteemed officer. “I know you and Lynn have your “special time” together when you think nobody is noticing, but don’t bring UBI into the mix: she’s just an innocent automaton. I would have expected better of you.”

“Where…is she?” Commander Holloway grunts, baring her teeth to the puny man she believes she will be ejecting out the airlock in a matter of moments.

“Who? Lynn?” Earl asks, looking back to the hallway, where Dr. Tamashi’s subdued cackles can still be heard. “Taking a catnap, like she always does when you’re not arou…”

“WHERE IS THE PRISONER?!” Commander Holloway exclaims, still kneeling atop the cold floor, barely having the energy left to keep herself upright. “The Cerulean, you dolt!”

“Oh…is that who I saw running down the hall not ten minutes ago?” he asks, looking up to the ceiling, scratching the side of his scalp. “That bright blue alien babe with the naked red-haired chick? Man, I really should limit myself to only two martinis before lunch: I could have sworn I was seeing things.” Crawling her way over to the control panel on the adjacent wall, Commander Holloway inputs her access code into the keypad, just as a microphone ejects from an opening in the wall. Taking it into her hands, she leans against the smooth surface, dictating her anger for the entire ship to hear.

“ATTENTION ESCAPEES!” Commander Holloway’s voice emanates from the loudspeaker above, freezing the likes of Maya and Ju’un but momentarily as they continue towards the landing dock. “This is THE Commander Holloway speaking, ordering you to stay where you are, and let yourselves be apprehended for justice. Failure to deliver yourselves peacefully and amicably will result in hellish suffering like only the Korlos could think up. You want to mess with a Rank Three commanding officer? Go for it: see what happens!” Her staggered breathing emanates through the space, putting a devious smile on Ju’un’s face, knowing her plan had worked. Just as they begin their escape again, the commander continues.

“Attention crew aboard the UGES Destiny: we have two escaped fugitives aboard our ship, and you have just been deputized to apprehend them. Failure to do so will result in you being fired…as a torpedo, right towards the Cerulean home world. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will be in my quarters, drawing up the schematics for a suitable punishment for those who would dare cross the likes of Commander Holloway. OVER AND OUT!”

End of Arc One (Tale of a Princess)

Nothing else to say other than, "Brava! Bravo! Bravissimo!" and other non-English words that signify approval. All of the victims here were fun (the Princess especially: a gagged telepathic victim being interrogated was never something I considered before, and I loved creativity). I look forward to the attempted escape, which I can only assume ends in feathery failure.

Featherfall said:

Nothing else to say other than, "Brava! Bravo! Bravissimo!" and other non-English words that signify approval. All of the victims here were fun (the Princess especially: a gagged telepathic victim being interrogated was never something I considered before, and I loved creativity). I look forward to the attempted escape, which I can only assume ends in feathery failure.

Click to expand...

Well thank you, I really appreciate the kind words and feedback!