Chapter Text
"Gold Squad, you are cleared for launch, repeat, Gold Squad, you are cleared for launch."
Storm's fighter was violently shot out of its launch tube. She confidently gripped the controls, a sly grin across her face. Finally, some action.
Storm had been stationed on this carrier for years without so much as a taste of real combat. It was one of a kind, unique for its armament of about three dozen individually piloted craft. Cowardly civilians had called it a waste of money, armchair generals had called it useless in the age of laser weaponry.
Storm called it badass.
She was the best fighter pilot in the whole Terran fleet. There weren't many fighter pilots since there weren't many carriers, but she knew she was the best of the best of the best. The Terran Accord could train a hundred, a thousand, a million new pilots, and Storm knew she would still be the best of the best of the best. Jealous competitors had claimed Storm only got where she did because she had rich parents, but after this long, nobody could deny her skill.
Storm gave the control stick a pull, feeling her fighter react perfectly. It was like an extension of her body. Small, fast, agile, deadly. Two kinetic autocannons, one on each wing spar, were augmented by a single large fire-and-forget missile slung underneath. Dozens of tiny thrusters provided omnidirectional maneuverability, while the large primary one sent her soaring at incredible speeds through open space.
Storm had dirty blonde hair, a smattering of freckles on her cheeks, and wore a black latex bodysuit that diminished the powerful G-forces she faced. Her figure, athletic and feminine, was on full display beneath the surface. A decently sized bulge betrayed that she was a pre-op trans woman, but Storm didn't mind. She saw how people stared at her. How desperately they wanted her. The fact that some of those people didn't like just how desperate they were for a "man" was just the cherry on top. Other than that, she passed almost too well; A miniscule fraction of her family's fortune had been well-spent making her as beautiful as possible. She'd kept her dick not due to financial constraints, but simply that she enjoyed having it. She enjoyed other people craving it even more than that.
"One bogey at bearing Three-Four-Seven. Distance… Twenty Kilometers. Closing fast. Gold Squad, you are free to engage."
Storm pulled her fighter to face the target. It was some kind of alien ship, a gigantic lumbering beast of a vessel. No visible point defense weapons, no fighters of its own. A perfect target. Storm was going to prove the Cosmic Terran Navy Fighter project had been worthwhile.
Her squadmates confirmed they were engaging over the radio. Storm didn't. She never spoke, not unless she absolutely had to. She just tapped her microphone twice to signal that she was ready. Barely anyone on the ship had even heard her voice, and she preferred to keep it that way. Sure, her superiors didn't like it, but she knew just the right people in the right places. They couldn't punish her for anything, so long as she didn't push her luck.
Storm kept flying towards the enemy contact. It didn't look like it was twenty kilometers away. Storm checked her targeting computer, seeing it was still outside of weapons range. The thing had to be absolutely massive. Unbelievably so. Storm felt… Not quite worried. Confidence of a strange sort bubbled up within her. The odds looked stacked against her, but she'd been training for this for years. She was the best there was. This would be a challenge, sure, but she'd win. Storm grinned and pushed the power on the engines further, forcing them to maximum output to close the distance faster.
As she got closer, Storm was able to see the ship in more detail. Two rings with giant leaf-like protrusions rotated slowly around a sleek central core. Looking for weak points, none were readily visible. The exterior of the central section, while quite brightly colored and intricately patterned, had no visible components to strike. So, she would find a weak point. There had to be one.
The hull of the ship split open as she approached, gigantic vines lashing out at the fighters with unexpected speed. As her squadmates yelled out in shock and surprise, Storm made a quick rolling maneuver over her wingtip to just barely avoid the vine striking out at her. She depressed the button on her flight stick, sending a hail of autocannon fire into the exposed internals of the ship.
The voices on the radio were yelling, screaming, then silent. One by one they disappeared. Storm was too good to just disappear, though. She would take this whole ship down by herself if she had to. She was the best. She would win. She had to win.
Storm pulled away from the gaping hole in the ship, turning towards the two rotating rings. Maybe those were the weak points she was looking for. She flew close to the hull of the ship, trying to confuse whatever sensors it had. Dialing in the targeting information for the missile she had slung beneath, Storm aimed at where the second ring met the hull of the ship. She flew up and between two spokes of the first ring, then fired her missile at the base of the second. Storm turned away before seeing the impact, making distance between herself and the gargantuan vessel.
The radio was getting quieter by the moment. She heard some yelling from the carrier itself, now being boarded. They went silent too. Storm glanced at her IFF, seeing nobody except herself and that giant unknown contact. Her heart pounded faster. Stars, she was out here alone, everyone else was gone. It was just her, and it. The Storm raging against the leviathan.
Storm turned her fighter over again, looking down at the massive ship. The carrier was sinking into it, wrapped end to end in vines. It was as if the carrier itself were just another fighter, docking into its mothership. It was being submerged. Consumed.
Lights were flashing at her, lights shot by the massive vessel. They were like navigation lights. Not lasers, at least not dangerous ones. Flashing pinks and golds, bright and… mesmerizing.
Stars, Storm really was great, wasn't she? Fighting this giant ship, all by herself. A faint smile crossed her lips. Her muscles loosened slightly, sitting into the uncomfortable seat with a relaxed gait. Of course she would win. She knew she would. She was the best, after all.
Her radio fizzled for a moment, then began to broadcast as clearly as ever. "Batani Actual to Gold-1, 'Storm'. Can you hear me?"
Storm tapped her microphone twice. Those lights were shining right into her cockpit, so bright, so beautiful. She felt all warm and fuzzy. She had done such wonderful work, practically won this battle all by herself. Storm was the best.
"Wonderful. Now, why don't you pilot that adorable little ship of yours into our hangar bay?"
Storm let a feeling of smug pride roll through her. They were surrendering to her, right? They had to be. She was the best, after all. Storm didn't even notice her fighter's autopilot kick in and take over. She felt so warm inside. She had just singlehandedly defeated the greatest threat the Terran navy had ever seen, and stars was she feeling it. So warm, so hot, in all the right places.
"What a good girl you are, Storm." The voice was different now. Somewhat deep, womanly, so sultry it hurt. "You did so, so well all on your own. We're all so proud of you."
Storm moaned. It wasn't a moan borne of spoken language failing, but something more guttural; The moan of someone who was so full, so overflowing with emotion, that she just had to let it out somehow. She pressed against her restraints, huffing and panting with animalistic hunger. She was the best, the greatest, and they knew it. Her crew, her squadmates, even the… whatever it was they were fighting. It felt good, so good, so warm.
"That's right, little one. Soak up all that praise." This voice sounded almost identical, but was somehow different. More direct, less flirty, and a bit deeper. "You deserve every word of it, don't you? Such a good girl, a lovely and amazing girl. The best girl there ever was."
Storm's eyes crossed, tongue out, panting, drooling. She went limp, lost control of her body. Her arms, her legs, her thoughts. She was warm, so warm, warm everywhere, especially down in the lower regions of her bodysuit. She was extra warm there. It was so much, it was all just, it was, it was everything all at once everywhere around her and in her, it all felt so good and great and amazing and perfect and everyone loved her and she was the best and everything went pink and yellow and pink and yellow and pink and yellow and pink and-
Everything came back into focus what felt like mere moments later. Storm was surrounded by the familiar cockpit of her fighter, docked in an unfamiliar hangar. The transparent canopy had been removed, leaving her open to what seemed to be breathable air. She floated just above the seat in zero-G. Everything felt hazy.
Two plants floated above her. Right. They'd been fighting some kind of plant people. Storm hadn't really paid much attention in the briefing. Or, maybe she had, but couldn't remember it now.
The two looked like identical twins. They were distinctly human-shaped, though with the extra features one might expect of a plant. Fuzzy fronds as antenna, bunches of leaves as shoulder-length hair, and faces formed from small plates of bark. Both were feminine in build, with one palette dominated by pink flowers and the other yellow. They were somewhat larger than Storm, though she couldn't tell by how much.
"My my, what a lovely little one we caught, sis." The yellow one giggled, reaching out and stroking Storm's cheek. "She's such a good girl that she brought herself right to us."
A fog of pink and yellow seemed to descend upon Storm's mind. Fuck, every nice word just sent ripples through her. So much warmth. Warmth, everywhere, especially in one very specific spot.
"Seems like a naughty girl to me, sis." The pink one ran a finger along the latex covering Storm's throbbing shaft. "Looks like she already wet herself."
Shit! Storm was suddenly very, very aware of just why her loins felt so warm. She'd emptied her entire bladder into her suit. There was a layer of urine forming a bubble around her crotch, compressed tightly around her skin by the bodysuit. Storm whimpered and squirmed.
"I think she's perfect just as she is!" The yellow one's vines started wrapping around her, pulling her out of the cockpit. "Good girls can still pee themselves, can't they, Hyacinth?"
Unbidden whimpers escaped Storm. Everything was so fuzzy, but every word felt like someone was stroking her… no, someone was stroking her shaft. The pink one.
"Of course, of course, Forscythia." The pink one came closer to her, whispering in her ear and stroking faster. "We'll just have to slip a diaper under that tight little suit of hers, won't we?"
The plants wrapped around her, engulfed her. They were rubbing her dick with the latex of her bodysuit, using her own urine as lubricant. Both mouths pressed against opposite ears, whispering in a unified sultry tone; "Now, be a good girl and piss yourself."
More like an orgasm than anything else, Storm began to fill her suit once more. She moaned and squirmed, the plants stroking and rubbing and wrapping around her and touching each and every spot of her body through the suit. That bubble around her crotch grew and grew, and as they whispered words both praising and mocking into her ears, that pulsing yellow and pink light took Storm away from herself once more.