Stuck in Orbit

Part 1

– Ugh… I'm hungry, – the girl whispered, trying to keep herself from floating into the control panel.

A blonde strand drifted slowly past her eyes, making her flinch. The hand she automatically reached out with to brush the hair away looked unusually delicate, slender, and once again the thought flashed through her head that this palm would look so cute with a manicure… with little hearts? She glanced at her palm again and then quickly looked away.

– Holy shit… – she breathed out in a dumb, high-pitched voice, puffing out her plump lips without even realizing it. – What the hell am I even, like, thinking about?!

And her mind kept feeling like it was rebooting. Her brain seemed to deliberately jump from one thought to another: first to Earth outside the porthole, then to her own lips — so plump, moist, like they were made for some glossy magazine photoshoot, then… to her breasts, straining against the skintight white NASA suit that clearly wasn't made for curves like these.

– Focus, Jake… Focus… – she hissed at herself in her mind, but the name suddenly felt wrong. Jake? Who the hell was that? She… he… oh shit, it was her now.

Her fingers twitched near her face again and her palm drifted past her eyes, then her gaze — once again — dropped lower on its own.

– Oh my God… – came out in a shaky falsetto as her eyes locked onto the bulges under the suit. Two round, heavy tits were clearly rising beneath the fabric, almost bulging out of it. She tried to think about the mission, to hold on to her composure, to remember the professionalism her life basically depended on — but instead her imagination conjured up the image of a huge, shiny, almost hypnotically alluring black cock sliding right between her tits, and for some reason… she really wanted it to be real.

– Fuck… What the hell is wrong with me… – her new high voice trembled, and the tips of her fingers suddenly began to slowly slide over the white fabric, tracing the heavy curve of her breast.

The boobs were real and big — no, for her they felt just enormous. And on one hand, it freaked her out and pissed her off, but on the other… she liked it. They were insanely soft, perky… and so sensitive that the slightest touch made her nipples stiffen beneath the thin suit.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to drive away the intrusive images, but new ones popped up instead: strong male hands wrapping around her waist, a wide palm sliding up to grab her boob, someone’s other hand gripping her hair tight… Her hand drifted downward on its own.

‘God… Stop… Jake… Focus…’

Part 2

‘God… Stop… Jake… Focus…’

– I shouldn't be thinking about this… I… I… – she stammered, shaking her head sharply, causing her long blonde hair to float around her face in a weightless cloud. Her brain kept throwing in words like "shit", "like", "oh my God" between more complex thoughts, totally screwing up the rich vocabulary astronaut Jake Slenders used to have.

At that moment, the speaker on the panel crackled to life:

– Orbit-7, come in, this is Houston. Um… Jake? Can you hear us?

Her lips instinctively puckered into a dumb, pouty shape as she flipped the comm switch.

– Uhh… yeah, like… oops… – She quickly cleared her throat, but her voice still came out high-pitched, almost doll-like. – Y-yeah… it's… I… I hear you…

A few seconds of silence.

– Jake… (a heavy inhale from the operator)

She stared at the control panel in confusion, her brows furrowed. It was obvious she didn’t like the pause — but no reply came.

– Hello? Houston? – her voice trembled again, that same ridiculous, overly high and… sexy tone. – I… I hear you, like… Why the hell aren’t you talking? – She bit her lip in panic, just realizing how stupid she’d sounded. 'God, why the fuck am I talking like some dumbass doll?.. Focus, Jake… Or… shit, is it not Jake anymore?.. Such a dumb name anyway… Jaaake… ew.'

The speaker hissed again, followed by a heavy sigh.

– Shit… Jake… – they were clearly whispering about something on the other end. Through the static and muffled fragments, she caught words like “unbelievable,” “it’s working,” and “what if it’s irreversible?”. – Listen… Um… How are you feeling?

She frowned. And immediately noticed how her brows arched all on their own — like in some flirty surprise.

– I’m… like, totally freaking out… – she blurted out, swallowing again. – Am I, like, a chick now?! Two damn tits… hair… these hands… – she held her hand up to the camera, hoping Mission Control could see it. – Voice like some blonde bimbo guys are always hitting on… and in my head it’s all, like… blurry… – she trailed off, tripping over the dumb lingo again. Words like “freaking out” and “like” slipped out on their own, breaking apart the last of her professional control. – Can someone explain what the fuck is going on?!

A calm male voice came through the speaker — it was Mark Davis, the program’s lead engineer.

– Listen, Jake, it looks like there was a technical error, and one of the food shipments to orbit accidentally included… – Mark clearly paused, as if searching for the right words – uh… nano-biological adaptation complexes.

She frowned, trying to make sense of it, but her thoughts slipped through her grasp like water. She blinked slowly, a sharp feeling settling in her mind — her brain just froze for a second. The words "nano-complexes" and "adaptation" sounded scientific, but they didn’t click. They reminded her of something technical, but the meaning just wouldn’t stick.

Part 3

– Jake, do you… do you hear me? Come in! – Mark’s worried voice snapped the blonde out of her half-comatose state, and she jerked suddenly, like she'd just been slapped, her cheeks flaring hot.

– Shit… – She licked her plump lips, feeling how they glistened wetly, her tongue tracing their full shape all on its own. – Can you, like, not call me that? – Her voice trembled, ringing with that stupidly high tone, and deep inside, a nasty twist of humiliation curled in her gut. – That name is just… like, totally off or whatever.

There was a second of silence over the speaker as she instinctively tucked back a long lock of blonde hair drifting around her face.

– So what should I… – Mark didn’t finish.

She hesitated, flipping through names in her head. All the male ones sounded completely wrong, and the female ones were either dumb or way too slutty. But then, out of nowhere, the cover of some old magazine popped into her mind — a sexy blonde with a perfect body and a caption that read: “Crystal — your dream.”

Her gut clenched, because that name made her kinda nauseous too. But… somehow, it fit. And it tickled her brain in the grossest way.

– Call me… Kris… – She shortened it on purpose, hoping it’d sound a bit less bimbo and maybe even kinda masculine. But then she added – Or… Crystal… if that’s, like, easier for you or whatever… – She stopped herself again, catching that stupid tone in her words. 'God… I’m seriously turning into an airhead…'

Mark exhaled heavily.

– Crystal… got it… Listen, the situation’s serious. These nano-complexes were supposed to go through final testing on Earth. They activate on contact with skin, through mucous membranes… and… well… from the looks of it, you’re already in the final stage.

– Final stage… – Crystal repeated, a sick twist knotting in her stomach, goosebumps rising on her skin. Her dumb, high-pitched voice still sounded way too sexy, even when she tried to be serious. – This is, like, a joke, right?.. Shit… tell me it’s a fucking joke…

Silence hung over the comm, followed by a click and some indistinct voices in the background.

– Mark? – Her voice rang out in that ridiculous high note again, like she was flirting with some guy at a bar instead of yelling at an engineer from Earth. – Sweetie, don’t ghost me, I didn’t— oh my god, did I just call you “sweetie!?”

She expected to be horrified, but instead she let out a soft giggle, picturing Mark sitting in that control room, being all smart and doing “smart” stuff, while she was under the table on her knees, his cock in her mouth. Her nipples instantly stiffened and hardened, a tingle flickered between her thighs, and she felt herself squeeze her legs together without thinking, almost bumping her knee into a handrail in zero gravity.

– God, fuck… – she whimpered, feeling a disgusting chill crawl up her spine. – I’m an astronaut, why the hell am I thinking like some… fucking bimbo?

Part 4

– Crystal? Are you… uh… feeling okay? The signal dropped, you went quiet, – Mark’s voice burst from the speakers just as the intercom crackled again, yanking her out of her daze. She whipped her head, hair flying in every direction, strands brushing her cheeks with a teasing tickle.

Crystal. That name. She’d kind of picked it herself, but the way Mark now used it so easily, like it actually suited her… made her feel completely humiliated.

– I… – She swallowed, fully aware of how the suit’s fabric stretched tight across her nipples, sending little electric jolts through her. – Yeah… I guess… kinda fine, shit.

– We’re analyzing the situation, – Mark continued. His voice turned dry and businesslike, but she could still feel the awkwardness in it, even from orbit. – You have to remain on station. Extraction or crew swap isn’t an option. The ship’s designed for a solo mission. Next return window is in one hundred and twenty days.

– One hundred and twenty… – Her face twisted, lips puffing out automatically like she was about to shove someone away with a pout. – Are you fucking kidding me?! I have to… be here alone… one hundred and twenty fucking days without a dick in my pussy?! – Her voice broke into a high, almost squeaky pitch, and she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Her eyes widened in horror, and a wave of shame crashed down inside her — she had just blurted out that filthy, stupid line, out loud, over the line with Houston. Like she wasn’t an astronaut, not an engineer, but some horny skank from a damn adult ad.

– Holy fuck… – she moaned, squeezing her knees together, feeling that gross little tingle again between her legs, and her lips puffed out on their own, like some dumb seductive pout. – God, what the hell am I even… fuck… saying…

Mark coughed, clearly trying to keep the situation under control.

– Um… Crystal, we… are logging… your responses. This is, uh, expected progression. – He sounded uneasy, but kept trying to stay professional. – You need to… keep it together.

‘Keep it together? Are you fucking serious?!’ – she screamed inside, as her fingers twitched by her thigh again, sliding up toward her waist, where the suit clung to her now tiny, unnaturally delicate body. Every move, every brush across her Boobs or hips sent a shiver deep through her, making her body twitch involuntarily.

– I’m… like… totally keeping it together, sure… – The words broke on their own, turning into this dumb, ditzy babble like something an “insta-diva” would post. – Fuck… one hundred and twenty days… no sex… no guys… – She bit her lip, instantly feeling the wet shine slide off them, and mentally cursed herself for how easily her brain locked onto those thoughts.

The speaker crackled again, Mark’s voice now sharper.

– Look… there’s a bigger issue. Do you still remember how to live on orbit?

Crystal froze, her mind suddenly lagging, like something had just “reinstalled” again while she kept struggling against the intrusive thought that she’d be stuck here for 120 days… with no men.

Part 5

– Live… – she finally managed to push out, trying to focus, but her voice still slipped into that dumb, whiny tone. – Well, like… yeah? I’m kinda… here, alone, ship, buttons… um… window… – She trailed off, suddenly realizing she couldn’t even remember what the main life support module was called.

Mark let out a heavy sigh, clearly trying to choose his words.

– Listen, Crystal… it’s worse than we thought. – His voice broke into an awkward cough. – Sorry for the stupid question, but I have to ask. Can you… can you tell me what you know about the law of universal gravitation? Or at least one of Newton’s laws?

Crystal’s face lit up red — this was basic stuff, like, school-level basic. Back when she was still Jake, no one even bothered asking this during mission training. The fact Mark was asking her now… it was humiliating.

– Of course, Mark! I totally know that stuff, like, what kinda question is that from you? – Crystal snapped, feeling her Boobs twitch under the tight white suit as her lips once again pouted in that bratty, offended way.

There was another pause over the comm, and she could almost hear someone sigh heavily on the other end.

– Sorry… – Mark coughed again, clearly nervous. – I had to ask. It’s just… there are signs of, um… cognitive degradation, a side effect of the complex. You do… seriously remember Newton’s laws? Just name one.

Crystal winced, her slim fingers curling into a fist. The words “cognitive degradation” stuck in her head, but their meaning slipped away immediately, leaving behind nothing but the annoying sense that they thought she was dumb. And honestly… maybe she kinda was now.

She tried to concentrate, digging through her memory of school lessons, but her thoughts slid straight into imagining how Mark would look at her Tits if he were here, how she might be standing in front of him in this tight white suit… or, even better, taking it off and being completely naked…

– Fuck… – She shook her head, her hair floating around her in a soft golden cloud. – Well, like… that law thingy… – She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. – Like, you know… stuff with masses… one’s bigger, one’s smaller… they, like… pull on each other or whatever… – She blinked, realizing her eyes were giving off this dumb, confused look. – So basically, gravity’s like… when a man and a woman are drawn to each other… – The phrase just slipped out, and a tremble ran down her spine again, her nipples tightening under the suit, and she suddenly wanted to bury her face in her hands.

There was more static on the line — someone clearly stifled a laugh, someone else muttered a quiet curse.

Part 6

– Got it, – Mark said shortly, with less confidence than before. – We’ll… uh… talk it over here, Crystal. Stay on the line. We need to figure out… what to do next, especially with the cognitive degradation factor.

She heard the channel shut off. The panel went dark, leaving only silence and her own reflection in the porthole glass — a blonde with plump lips, long hair, and huge Boobs that looked like they were purposely stretching the suit, the fabric barely holding her curves together.

Crystal slowly bit her lip, feeling the wet shine instantly spread across it. The words “cognitive degradation” still spun around in her head, but behind them, something far more disgusting was growing — her whole body itched, not in a literal way, but with that sickly-sweet, unbearable arousal. She wasn’t thinking about survival. No. Her focus had already shifted to the pulsing sensation between her legs, like something inside her wanted to burst out, craved… touch… male hands… something huge and warm inside her.

‘Shit, one hundred and twenty days…’ – she groaned through her teeth, feeling her hands sliding down to her thighs. The suit got in the way a bit, but the thin material barely hid her new body.

She carefully ran her fingers along the curve of her waist, then lower, to her hips, and the moment she grazed the sensitive spot between her legs, a hot wave rushed through her. Her nipples immediately stiffened, poking visibly through the fabric, and inside her, something clenched with aching tightness.

– God… – Crystal whimpered, shutting her eyes. Images of Mark — or any of the guys from Mission Control — pressing her hard against them, their hands all over her Boobs, whispering filthy things, flashed behind her eyelids. She couldn’t think about Newton’s laws, or buttons, or the mission anymore. It all faded. Only the pulsing inside remained.

Her fingers trembled as she slipped her hand under the edge of her suit, baring her thighs and crotch. Her skin was smooth, soft, and so sensitive that even the slightest touch gave her goosebumps.

She slid lower, barely brushing the wet folds with her fingers.

– God… fuck… – Crystal moaned, feeling her breath go ragged. Her whole body buzzed like it was electrified. She couldn’t fight it anymore.

It was hot between her legs, everything slick and slippery, her fingers gliding easily over the soaked skin. She tried to muffle the moan, but it broke free in a high-pitched, bratty whimper.

– One hundred and twenty days… – she gasped, her fingers moving faster, until everything inside her clenched in a sweet, spasming lock. A wave of orgasm crashed over her, and a choked sob burst from her throat.