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Attitude Adjustment (Patreon Commission for DesertScales)
🕑 Added 2022-03-25 16:25:22 +0000 UTCTAGS: Growth/Expansion, Tight Clothes/Bursting, Momdomification
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Her one mistake was always using the same coffee machine. As the Head of Security for the station, she should have known better, but if there was one thing that made life on that junkheap even slightly bearable, it was having a good cup of concentrated bean juice, and unfortunately for her, options were… limited. She either went all the way down to the bar whenever she wanted a good drink, or she walked down the corridor leading to the sec department and spent a few credits on what had to be the best damned coffee on the whole station.
It was a unique machine, in that, at some point, those responsible for restocking the vending apparatuses had apparently forgotten to replace it with the “new and improved” proprietary model, leaving it as the sole remaining specimen from the old line that still, somehow, got restocked on a regular basis. No one questioned it; doing so was likely to make it stop through some complicated and nonsensical bluespace fuckery, so instead they simply used it for good coffee whenever no one was looking but the station’s AI.
Naali was one of them. She was, ultimately, doomed to being the punching bag for most of the station’s problems, and as the active Head of Security for the place, it was her job to take the blows and keep smiling like she didn’t want to wring the neck of everyone she saw on a regular basis (apart from a few select individuals whom she merely despised so much as to want someone else to do something to them). She needed the coffee; it wasn’t a case of her caffeine addiction kicking in, but very much one of self-control: without the bitterness of it all, she’d go nuts within the hour, and no one wanted the person with access to the armoury to lose their mind during a shift.
No one, except for one particular engineer who’d been nursing a grudge for a frankly unhealthy amount of time. It had begun innocuously enough, when they tried performing some renovations at the bar while people were still in there, and for some reason they objected and called security on him; what followed was that bitch Naali wasting his time with an interrogation and a whole bunch of “tests” meant to check whether he was possessed by something or other, he hadn’t been paying attention. What mattered was that his plans for the afternoon were ruined and that was entirely the snake’s fault, and for that, she had to pay.
It had been months, but the grudge was still there, mostly because whenever he had an idea about something fun to do, he had to remind himself that Chief Spoilsport was still around and wouldn’t let him do anything worth doing. Every new thought, every novel concept, was promptly thrown into the trash because she was around, and that only solidified his desire to get her out of the picture so she couldn’t ruin things even further… but how?
He couldn’t firebomb the sec department, that would just get people mad at him again, nor could he bore through to the HoS’ office without them asking a whole bunch of really incriminating questions he wouldn’t have answers to. He could try and contract someone else, but the last time anyone attempted to contact the Syndicate, they were told that the space station “wasn’t worth the effort” before the phone promptly blew up in their faces. This left the young man with very few options that weren’t sourced locally, and eventually with outright none but whatever he could find lying around.
Thankfully, he knew a guy. A very specific guy, who worked in a very specific sub-department, and had access to chemical synthesiser machinery that could be put to use making more than just medication for those who accidentally tripped over their plasma torches. It took a bit of effort to convince them to do something outside their main area of expertise, but a few choice words and the promise of ample monetary compensation, as well a couple of well-placed bribes to ensure an AI maintenance routine in order to establish an alibi, were enough to secure their cooperation: they would help to create a compound that would then be sneaked into the coffee machine, and from there, it would all fall into place on its own.
Naali, being utterly unaware of any of this, kept on buying her daily mugs’ worth of caffeine from the same machine. She had no idea that the one random engineer she reprimanded months prior had spent so much time grumbling about it, nor did she know he had procured a specialised toxin built specifically for her species. She had no clue that the cup of coffee she just bought was tainted as a result of said engineering tampering with the interior mechanism, nor was she cognizant of how said engineer was still staring at her, in the shadows, from behind a conveniently oversized fern.
To her, it was just another cup of coffee, nothing special. It even tasted the same as they all did: absolute shit, but slightly better than every other machine coffee on the station. Better than nothing as well, better than having to go through the day without her shot of caffeine, so with a grimace on her face, the snake took her drink, turned around, and slithered back to her office. Only there did anything feel out of the ordinary, though it was more a case of an aftertaste than anything else: Naali had to smack her tongue a couple of times, but that was indeed some kind of weird flavour on it that normally wasn’t there. She should know, her sense of taste was significantly more well-developed than most species’; it was some sort of trace chemical left behind, presumably by the restock mechanism leaking or something like it.
She sighed, figuring that the poor machine’s time was at an end. She was still going to use it, nothing would force her to resort to anything else unless she absolutely had to, but the Head of Security had a silent salute for the brave little coffee maker nonetheless, gulping down what was left of the vile mixture while wondering why she was even drinking it to begin with. A long, drawn-out sigh later, and Naali was slumped back against her office chair, eyes close and waiting for something to happen; it was going to, because she worked for NanoTrasen and misery loved company: whenever anything happened that made her day worse, it was inevitably bound to be followed by something else that would take the awfulness of it and dial it up to eleven and beyond. It might not be lethal (hell, it rarely was), but it would make an already bad situation even more unbearable because, really, why not?
It was almost unsurprising when she felt hot all over and her clothes began feeling tighter. Really, it almost came naturally when her brain started to go all fuzzy and she was unable to think straight no matter how much effort she put into it. Really, why should it have gone in any other direction? Better to just deal with whatever was coming his way and think about the consequences later, otherwise she was going to sit there and be frustrated at something she never truly had the power to prevent.
The sudden tightness in her chest was… unexpected, but not altogether unpleasant. It had been a while since the least time she had that happen to her, but she wasn’t going to complain, not when she wasn’t wearing her breastplate for once; maybe it was fate, conspiring to give her plenty of room to grow on the one occasion she had nothing there to keep her from swelling up… or, perhaps, she had taken it off without realising it and the haze in front of her had made her forget it.
It was, in fact, far easier not to think too hard about it than it was to spend any amount of time considering what might be the case. Why bother when she could just keep her eyes closed and feel her bust expanding outwards, growing heavier and wider with every second that passed, until she could feel it start to intrude on the edge of her torso? It felt liberating not to have to think about it, to instead throw herself into the ocean of physical sensation that came with having her tits grow so many cup sizes that her work uniform began to tear open, gashes in the synthetic fibres turning into outright tears, opening into holes before the whole thing just collapsed structurally and released her breasts into the wild.
Though… not completely. Whether through sheer happenstance or due to preexisting concerns in manufacturing the jumpsuits, Naali’s tits didn’t just flop out onto her chest; rather, the cloth above them was torn open, fully revealing her cleavage and the top of her rack, while the part of her uniform beneath her bust remained miraculously intact, creating something akin to a very overladen sweater just barely containing a pair of milkers big enough to crack someone’s spine should she drop them on top of anyone. Easily twice as big as her head, if not not more so, and still growing the more she looked at them, so much so that the snake was left wondering if they actually were growing as a result of her looking at them, or if she’d just been luckily blessed with an extended growth spurt.
The weight, the warmth, the heft, all of it combined to leave Naali wanting to do nothing more than remain sitting, her back angled so she was sliding off her chair, feeling her tits pushing down on her; not so much pinning her down, but forcing the snake off onto the ground, where she was most likely going to remain until such a point as she decided to get back up… whenever the hell that was. Her bust wasn’t going to make it any easier, but by that point, she didn’t exactly want to expend any effort doing anything of worth.
Of course, it couldn’t just be her tits that received a boost, and after the first round of the transformation, that Naali felt her ass begin to tighten was more or less expected. A wide, dumb grin spread across her face as she brought her hands back to her rump, so often ignored, so often simply blending into her tail, her lack of any meaningful hips making it difficult to wear the kind of clothing she wanted to on account of it being a frank waste. How wonderful, then, that she would feel her skin pushing against her fingers, her tail fattening in just the right way to give her the closest thing to an hourglass figure that her serpentine body plan allowed for.
She couldn’t ask for more, but she could ask that it be made more; ass and tits were good enough, but if she was going to be given a gift of them, she might as well beg for it to come in large enough quantities that it would floor both her and whoever she happened to be sharing herself with at any given point. Better to be on the ground, very loudly begging for someone to please come do a great number of unspeakable things to her, only to have her hands need to fulfil that role. Better to feel the new contours of her new body, until her fingertips were intimately acquainted with every new inch of it.
Then, and only then, could she afford the luxury of thinking of trying to get up, onto a sitting position and maybe her chair. But it would be a while, even under the best of circumstances; she could only hope nothing bad happened outside, because she was absolutely not going to be able to do her job if the station was attacked. After all, she had little ones to play with, didn’t she?
It was weird. She should just be horny, and to a great extent she absolutely was, but there was something else in there that moderated what would otherwise be a mindless lust, a desire to fuck that would’ve left her a brainless rutting machine. It came both from her new body, yes, but also from a sense of dominion, of power, of authority; perhaps whatever the coffee did to her had mixed with her brain chemistry so much that it circled back and borrowed a great deal from her position as the Head of Security, because the last thing Naali wanted to do was be the bottom for the next few people lucky enough to have her as a mate. Quite the contrary, in fact.
She rose up, pulling herself from the ground by almost sinking her fingers into the wooden surface of her desk; the whole thing creaked ominously still, and though the snake didn’t notice it, multiple cracks opened on its surface as she tried to straighten herself out. Unaware of this, the Head of Security instead focused on herself: on her new, heft breasts, on her prodigious rump, and on those wide, motherly hips… quite literally motherly, or at least as literally as they could be when the potential was merely within her grasp and not already caught in her snares.
She could very well find someone to stuff her full of eggs; it wouldn’t even be all that difficult, given how often she was propositioned on a regular basis. It was just a simple matter of turning her glares and stares into sultry replies, of flipping those “no”s into a series of very long moans ending in a shameless, tongue-filled kiss; no point saying yes when all that did was cut into precious time she could be using to be bred.
And she was going to be bred, if it was the last thing she did; if anyone had any different ideas, they were welcome to go issue a complaint with the captain, if they wanted to be ignored even harder, or hell, send a panicked mail to NanoTrasen so the company could remind them that workplace relationships were permitted and fertility treatments would be provided at a discount. For Naali, this couldn’t have gone better; really, if the point of poisoning her was to knock her out cold from arousal, it had almost worked, seeing as she fully intended to get a good workout before lying down and having a nap for the rest of the day.
Her department, which by then had been alerted to “irregularities” by the AI, had congregated outside of her office. They expected to see some sort of eldritch creature of myth pop out from the other side, maybe even a possessed Naali, host to said creature after having finally snapped from all the nonsense they had to deal with on a regular basis. Instead, they saw a very horny, very thirsty snake slithering out from her office, eyes scanning the room for the person closest to them who could help her fill her belly with eggs; curves exaggerated to proportions that made everyone’s knees weak (where applicable) and almost a scent of arousal emanating from her, it was unsurprising when nearly all of the officers present dropped their tasers and stood there, staring at their superior.
A couple tried running, but they wouldn’t get very far. There was clearly contamination going on, as the AI so helpfully noted through the speakers, and that being the case, the entire department had to be quarantined to prevent any possibility of the viral agent escaping into the rest of the station. A regrettable loss for those on the wrong side of the falling shutters, but a necessary sacrifice for the greater good; Naali, licking her lips, took her sweet time approaching the cowed crowd, rubbing her hands as she leaned down close to her first volunteer: a young Tajara, no older than twenty-five, probably there as his first job, trembling hard enough to make his equipment rattle, his eyes… very much focused on the copious, some would say indecent amount of cleavage the Head of Security had on display.
All purposeful, of course; couldn’t just be given a rack big enough to smother whole heads and then not use it to attract mates, that’d be a waste! No, she had to let her tits hang and offer the warm, soft confines between them, up for both the eyes and the hands of those brave enough to take the quite literal plunge. And, much to her surprise and delight, Naali saw her first volunteer reach up with one of their paws, eyes wide, their mottled brown fur standing on end as they got closer and closer to their prize; the snake herself waited until the last moment, giving the Tajaran a moment to think that they were in the home stretch, that they’d get what they wanted without any strings attached… and then she struck.
It was so easy as well. All she had to do was wait until she felt those wriggling fingers in her cleavage before she lunged forward and used her own hands to part her breasts and immediately smush the young officer’s face with them, using the momentum from it to throw the poor guy onto the ground… followed by herself. There was a loud thud, a muffled moan, and before anyone knew it, the Tajara was completely buried by snake, gone from sight as Naali herself wiggled from side to side to better grind her first victim to dust.
The point wasn’t to knock them out of commission; rather, if she was going to be pumped full of seed and knocked up, then she would only accept the best her force had to offer. And clearly, if they couldn’t take her full weight while being smothered by her tits in public, then they obviously had no business trying to get their hands on her. Hell, Naali didn’t even expect the Tajaran beneath her to make it past ten seconds without cumming his brains out while still having his cock firmly stuck inside his jumpsuit: young, inexperienced surely, suddenly jumped by his boss in front of everyone, a boss whose body had been augmented such, it’d be ridiculous to expect them to adapt so quickly.
Which was why it came at such a surprise when not only did the young man not shiver and experience that little death, but he instead began grinding back against Naali. The snake had to stop and actually pay attention, just in case she had misread her bodily signals; was the little thing under her actually fighting back? Were they trying to hold their own and gain terrain? Well, if that was the case, she’d be more than happy to see where that went… provided the feline was fine with an uphill battle.
She reached underneath herself, pulling the officer’s hands from their side and smacking them straight onto her own ass; amazingly, the Tajaran reacted the way she wanted him to: by grabbing. By sinking their fingers and claws into her soft flesh and enjoying the grand feast that was her rump, surely thinking about what they’d do to it once they were finished with the main course. This was followed by her arching her back such that her tits weren’t so much covering her lover, but actively pushing down onto him, giving him absolutely no room to breathe. And quite literally so: if her mate didn’t try to push her aside, he would inevitably be actually smothered, lacking any oxygen to work with.
But, be it through their own resilience and determination, or just the airheadedness that came with their oxygen supply being cut off, the Tajaran kept going. Even past the point where they should’ve gone limp and unconscious, they instead carried on grinding their hips against Naali, their shaking hands seemingly split between wanting to be stuck in ass fat or needing to move down to undo the many buttons and zippers on the jumpsuit keeping the young officer’s shaft from being free to do what it needed to do.
So Naali fixed that for them.
It was simple enough to shred that jumpsuit open; she’d had plenty of experience with it in the past, and it wasn’t going to be any inaccessibility for the snake to give up. If anything, with the officer stuck underneath her, all she had to do was shuffle over a few inches to one side and then bring one of her hands down, slashing multiple gashes into the thick, padded fabric, before grabbing hold of one of the holes and ripping the bottom half of it clean off. Sure, there were still some bits attached to the man’s boots, but the most important part was free: his cock.
She didn’t need to do anything else past that point, as natural instinct kicked in and drove the young man to do what had to be done in order to get where he had to be: muscle memory, even if never used, imprinted in them through countless generations of breeders, now that he could finally bring that genetic knowledge to bear. Granted, he wasn’t expecting his first time to be with a snake like Naali, nor indeed with someone who could literally have him fired for no reason, but he was confident he wouldn’t be kicked out of the force… assuming he didn’t disappoint. And it was exactly this little nugget of knowledge that drove the Tajaran to do something he normally never did: he put his all into it.
Not that he slacked off in his duties, but very rarely did he have any reason to throw himself a hundred and ten percent into something; for Naali to do what she did though, nothing less than that would suffice, and he wasn’t about to have her go so far and then leave her feeling unsatisfied. It could be that he wouldn’t be able to truly bring her over the edge like he wanted to, but even if that were the case, he was still going to try. He was going to pour every last ounce of energy he had into rolling his hips, into thrusting his shaft into the snake’s tight slit, into moaning as loudly as he could, that she may know he was still in there and loving every second of it.
For her part, Naali had to do nothing but be there and be herself, smothering the cute little thing as he railed into her. Normally she’d be a lot more effusive about it, loudly enough for the whole station to hear in fact, but right there and then, her job was to make sure her lover knew who was in charge: he wasn’t breeding her, she was being bred by him, and only because she deigned to choose him. Nevermind how that only happened because he was closest, that was entirely beside the point; she was there, she needed eggs in her, and he was the one to give them to her. At any point, she might choose to retract that privilege, so if the young Tajaran knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t slow down for even a second.
And, in the meantime, she could make sure everyone else in the room knew what was in store for them once she was done with their coworker. A simple glance, that was all they needed: a glance and a wink so the remainder of the security force were well aware that none of them were going to leave that room until she had a taste of their seed, literally if need be. A glance and a wink, along with a conveniently-timed AI alert letting everyone know the quarantine seal would only be lifted after the “threat” was “neutralised”.
This, of course, assumed anyone would move against her.
But Naali knew better.
