Zero-G STRIPTEASE - new Vamps chapter

I wriggled out of my piloting suit, grumbling under my breath as the clingy fabric twisted around my hips like it had separation anxiety. I kicked it mid-air, which, in zero-G, was not nearly as dramatic as it should’ve been.

I slipped one leg in, then the other, the thermal lining sliding against my skin like liquid heat.
I couldn’t take the helmet off, so I had to shove it up, work the suit underneath, and hope the final pressure seal would snap everything into place once it closed.

I started pushing it over my hips, then up to my waist, shivering out of control while my boobs were still freezing in zero gravity.

For the first time a tiny part of me was glad MIA wasn’t online to witness the scene. She’d probably log it as a “thermal emergency: nipples sharp enough to pierce hull.”
Last time we landed on an icy planet, she spent a whole week calling me “Galactic Ice Nips” and tagging it as a critical hardware alert.

I missed her. I was genuinely starting to worry that this damn thing had wiped her out... Finally, the fabric cinched itself with a soft hiss around the new collar.

Full coverage. Thermal-lined, vacuum-sealed comfort. Second-skin tight as hell.
Cute and functional.

My pulse was still racing. Maybe from the cold. Maybe from the panic. Maybe from the creeping wrongness slithering through the ship.

After putting on the gloves and my bracers, I paused. I usually use these to stay connected with MIA when I left the ship. I hesitated. What if that thing had already found a way to hijack them? I shook the thought out of my head, but still decided not to activate the wrist computer just yet.

I reached for the magnetic soles, I clicked my heels together, and felt the push as they activated mid-float. My boots locked to the surface, cheating gravity with a satisfying clack.

My body still floated slightly, but I had an anchor again.
Back in control, baby! Or at least pretending to be. Which, let’s be honest, is kind of my comfort zone anyway.

A few bleeps. Flickering lights overhead. And that awful static crawling through the ship, with sharp little squeals that sounded like disapproval...

Awww, what’s wrong? Didn’t expect me to dress for the weather?

“87% of systems overridden.
Calculating new countermeasures.”

Fine. Do that.
While I head to the lab.

Because if I’m right —and I usually am inside my own damn ship— that artifact I picked up on the weird jungle planet isn’t just responsible for this.
It is this.

TO BE CONTINUED...