Fluke Ops Gaiden: the Lair of Phoebe Lotsu (/tg/, M/F)

Agent "Smith" woke up in a cramped room.  He couldn't see too well around him, as his gas mask, along with what was apparently a bed sheet, obscured his view.  Upon trying to move, he realized he was strapped and cuffed to a bed.  His crimson syndicate combat suit was gone, feeling as though his mask and his tactical clothes were the only things left in his possession.

Smith knew this mission was going to be a bust to begin with.  As if being a temp for a mega space conglomerate wasn't bad enough, there was nothing in Space Law that covered the rights for blue collar workers to object  being sent on suicide missions.  He and four of his fellow temps were sent to Space Station 13 with the objective to nuke it to bits, despite the fact that none of them even knew how to handle a gun, much less arm a nuclear fission device.  His memory was hazy, but the only thing he could recall after breaking into the station was splitting from his squad near the medbay and slipping on what seemed to be an endless streak of lube.

As he tried to collect this thoughts, Smith heard footsteps coming towards the room.  A figure briskly walked through the door and shut it behind them.  Judging by the distinct clacking of high heels, he assumed his visitor must have been a woman.  She quickly hit the buttons on the nearby wall, closing the window shutters and turning off the lights.  What sounded like a tray clattered on a table.  The woman produced a Zippo and lit a couple of candles she no doubt borrowed from the station's chaplain.  Satisfied with the setting, she sat down on a swivel chair and turned towards Smith.

The woman's  form  could only be faintly made out from the glow of the candles burning behind her.  At the very least, Smith could tell she had long hair, and had...something adorning the top of her head.  Horns, perhaps?   They twitched slightly along her jittery movements.  A standard medical HUD was clipped over her right ear, projecting a single green lens that projected bits of data over her right eye.  A lab coat was draped over most of her body with the topmost buttons straining heavily against her ample bosom.  She crossed her bare legs and began to read from a clipboard in her hand.

"Mr...Smith.  Dante Smith," she said finally.  "It's been awhile since your last examination.  You do remember that time, don't you?"  Smith had to play along.  The voice changer in his mask was calibrated exactly to the likeness that was described on the fake id that hung from his cargo pants.  It was a name well known throughout Space Station 13's history, and now the agent felt rather stupid for scribbling it on his card as a joke.

"Of course I remember.  We spent a lot time together on that day, right?"  He sounded exactly like Dante Smith.  It was uncanny at how effective syndicate contraband could be at times.  He almost fooled himself at how the mask automatically calibrated his shaky speech to match the bold, smooth arrogance that the real Smith radiated with his every word.  The woman snickered briefly and leaned back in her chair.  "That we did, Smith!  We generated a great deal of statistics in this very room."

"However," she added. "I'm not sure if these charts still stand up to the records we took during that time.  Maybe we should do another examination to check for consistency?" He didn't have to think at all about the proposal. "How could I refuse?" He said, the mask thankfully hiding the meekness of his words.

With that, she put away her clipboard and stood up. She walked over to the bed and pulled the sheet off with one swift movement.  The thick lenses of the gasmask still made his vision murky, but Smith could tell that the woman was a fiery ginger with a gorgeous hourglass figure.   The things on her head were actually prosthetic cat ears, although he couldn't fathom why she had them on.  He could barely make out the name "Phoebe" embroidered on her blue coat, which he now realized to be the only garment that covered her pale body.  She swiftly undid his belt and pants zipper,  revealing his rather modest johnson.  She only had to give it a couple of tugs to get it fully erect,  peaking out at a length of around fifteen centimeters.

"This seems to be a bit off," she mused, stroking his member with her silky hands. "I'm sure you were a bit longer the last time around.  I can fix this, of course!"  Reaching into her coat pocket, she produced a wide assortment of syringes.  Smith instinctively tried to struggle at the sight of the needles, finding the leather bindings of the hospital bed to be far too strong against his weak wrists.  The first syringe she readied glowed a sickly green in the darkness.  Phoebe pulled up one of his sleeves and injected the contents into the first vein she could feel out on his arm.

Everything immediately felt wrong within Smith.  He could have sworn he was growing taller.  His skin crawled and took on an entirely different complexion.  His cuffs now strained painfully against his wrists.  He screamed, and noticed his voice changer didn't activate at all.  Phoebe shushed him and gently pulled off his mask. "My medical scanner kept trying to tell me you were someone different, Dante," she told him.  "Luckily, I kept a DNA sample of you from our last encounter."  She grinned.  The agent blood ran cold as he realized what she had just done to him.  Now he truly was Dante Smith.

Phoebe readied another syringe and injected it into Dante's thigh.  Adrenaline surged through his veins.  Looking down, he noticed his dick looked absolutely monstrous in comparison to what it used to be.  Phoebe then unbuttoned her labcoat, letting her large cleavage finally have some breathing space.  Her thighs were slicked from her apparent excitement  "I hope you don't mind, but we'll need to get these results quickly," she said.  She took out a hypospray from another coat pocket and gently tapped it against her neck.  A cocktail of drugs surged into her brain, causing her to become even more jittery.  Drool began to flow from the corners of her twisted smile.
Wasting no time, she climbed onto the bed and straddled Dante.  He thought there was no way he could fit inside of her bushy snatch, but a dropper of space lube was all that was needed for her to instantly take him to the hilt.  The animatronic tail on her backside that was paired along with her cat ears whipped around wildly as Phoebe bounced on his engorged member.  While he now looked like Smith, the agent had nowhere near the amount of endurance as the original, and quickly tensed up in climax after just a few pumps.  Phoebe was having none of that.  Another shot from one of her many syringes made him painfully hard once more.

"The emergency shuttle has docked with the station" The AI announced over the intercom.  Smith tried to protest, but found that one of the drugs must have muted him.  Phoebe was utterly possessed at this point, and paid no attention to the AI's statement.    Dante's pelvis felt like it was going to shatter.  Her pace quickened as her short breaths sounded more and more like a railed cat in heat.  Suddenly she howled out as slammed her hips down once last time, clamping hard on the member that thoroughly stretched her out.  Her body spasms flicked beads of sweat from her alabaster skin as her orgasm racked her very core.

Phoebe slumped over, trying to catch her breath.  Her fiery hair was matted with sweat.  The restrained victim couldn't even resist anymore as the drugs she pumped into him slowly fried his nerves.   Just how many times has she done this to the hapless people that passed by her medbay?  Another announcement rang out over the intercom.  "Code Delta reached." The AI said.  Phoebe shakily craned over to Dante's ear and whispered to him. "Y-You know, t-t-there was ooone t-thing-g we weren't-t-t able t-to test that day..."

The dropper of space lube that she had earlier was almost depleted, but it still yielded enough for what she wanted to do in her final moments.  She placed the tip just barely in her puckered anus and let the last few drop drain into her. Phoebe raised herself up just enough to pull the huge johnson out of her gaping sex.  She shifted a bit, and, trembling, guided Dante's dick towards her unused starfish.  It was going to rend her in two, but none of that mattered now.  Her sphincter strained against the intruder.  Any pain she could have felt was numbed by the drugs she was so fond of.   Eventually it gave way, letting his length of flesh slide through her bowels.  It was an experience Phoebe never got to feel that often.   She would have preferred to relax a bit as she finally bottomed out on Dante.  However, there was only a minute left to enjoy herself.

Agent Smith would have considered himself the luckiest man in space under any other conditions.  Someone on his team must have survived to carry out the task he sent to the station to complete.  Who or how they did it couldn't cross his mind as he laid catatonic in that isolated room in medbay.  Seconds remained as Phoebe speared herself relentlessly on his battered dick.  She managed to wring out one last load from her living toy as sirens rang out across the evacuated station.  And then there was nothing.

Major Syndicate Victory.