Work Text:
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began trolling timaeusTestified[TT]
TG: OMG OMG OMG
TG: i think i found your anscestor
TG: *ancestor
TG: thisisaninconspicuousfilename.mod
TG: don’t ask just watch
tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased trolling timaeusTestified [TT]
You open the file against your better judgment. The video starts with a bizarre mashup of patriotic songs stripped of their lyrics and slowed down to half speed. The background is black; the title Proper Helmsman Maintenance is stark white. The music fades as the title card transitions to a mid-blood adult shot from the waist up. His hair is gelled back into sharp points. His shirt is a nondescript button down with thin olive green trim around the cuffs and collar. His shades mimic the shape of his triangular horns. The resemblance is uncanny, disturbingly so.
“Welcome to part eight of proper helmsman maintenance.” What would compel Rhoxie to search for helmsman maintenance instructional videos? She had told you multiple times that she was specializing in coding. “In this installment I will demonstrate the proper technique for collecting genetic material from helmsmen that does not require the problematic and time consuming process of removal from the helmscolumn.” Oh. Well that explains that. “It is important to note that the helmsman will be conscious and in full control of their faculties. Therefore the crew member assigned to collect genetic material should be encouraged to develop a relationship with the helmsman prior to the collection.” The mid-blood begins to unbutton his shirt starting from the top and working his way down. “If not death of the crew member is assured. Do not rely on neural inhibitor based safety measures.” Each slow languid movement of his fingers reveals more and more of his scar riddled skin. You get a small glimpse of his skin and you want to see it all. “Imperial backed studies have shown that even class one psionics are capable of momentarily over riding current neural inhibitor technology.” You lean forward in your seat as he undoes the remaining button. “The higher the class level of the helmsman the longer they have to torture and kill the crew member. Consent is important.” He peels off his shirt and allows it to drop out of his hand. “With that stated let’s get started.”
The camera pans back. The mid-blood is naked standing waist deep in water surrounded by a thicket of tyrian purple biowires. He’s holding a gleaming silver pail in his right hand. You get the niggling feeling that this film could be better categorized as pail inducement instead of instructional. He turns his back towards the camera and wades through the forest of wires. You audibly hiss as the helmscolmn comes into view. The difference between witnessing a helmsman on film versus viewing diagrams is a vast chasm. Only the head and upper torso of the helmsman is exposed. The rest of the troll is covered in a network of biowires of varying thicknesses. The helmsman’s eyes spark red and blue as the other approaches the base of the column. The mid-blood halts and holds out the pail in front of him. Several biowires snake out from behind the helmsman and rapidly engulf the pail before secreting it behind the helmscolumn.
“It’s about fucking time Strydr,” the helmsman growls. You almost drop your Faygo. Strydr, his name is Strydr. You’re watching a pail inducement video starring your ancestor.
“Holy shit,” you murmur as you take off your shades.
“Did you miss me sugar globes?” the other Strydr smirks.
“Your nook yes. Your face and personality no.” That unfortunate lisp and bulge recoiling snaggle of teeth feels familiar.
“Psi you wound me.” That time you do drop your Faygo on the floor. Orange carbonated sugar water pours out of the bottle as you stare opened mouthed at the screen.
“Don’t tempt me.” Psi, The Psiionic. The legen- fucking-dary Psiionic is about to pail your ancestor and you’re going to watch it. You pause the video and throw a towel underneath your desk to soak up the Faygo. You double check the location of the nearest bucket just in case before hitting resume. Your ancestor turns back to face the camera.
“Once the crew member has established that the helmsman is receptive to their advancements and will not attempt to torture, main, or kill them, they should then discuss the logistics of genetic collection. I strongly suggest discussing position to avert the possibility of dismemberment. Not all helmsmen will have the same level of fine motor control of their biowires and therefore it is paramount that the crew member discovers their helmsman’s level of control beforehand.” Thick tyrian biowires rise up out of the waist deep water and start to trail over your ancestor. He does not flinch as they branch out and coil around his torso and arms. “Just as a final note, the following will not be typical of all genetic material collections. Amount of genetic material and mode of collection will vary depending on the individuals involved.”
You watch the biowires lift your ancestor out of the water until he is parallel with The Psiionic. The wires then maneuver him until he is snug against the helmscolumn. His arms are pulled back behind him until they hook behind him and the helmsman allowing The Psiionic ready access to his neck. Your ancestor’s legs are gently pulled open. He groans as a golden bulge peeks out between his legs and starts to slowly rub against the folds of his nook. You shift uncomfortably in your seat as his olive green bulge unfurls from its sheath. The Psiionic nibbles at your ancestor’s exposed neck as his bulge coils around the other’s. He closes his eyes as green and yellow start to drip down his legs.
He opens his eyes as a biowire teases his lips and then he opens his mouth. You blindly search for your bucket as you watch the tentacle slowly enter. It continues until you can see where the tip ends in his throat before it withdrawals. You start contemplating the possibility that you’re developing a biowire fetish as you watch it fuck his throat. His body suddenly stiffens drawing your attention down to between his legs. A second tentacle emerges from the helmsman and abruptly thrusts into your ancestor’s sopping nook. You can’t unfasten your buckle fast enough as you watch your sweaty panting ancestor being split-roasted. He groans as The Psiionic’s bulge untangles from his and starts to worm its way into his already full nook. Both bulges fit eventually.
You need new pants.
Your ancestor shudders as the bulges and the biowire in his throat pick up their pace. Additional biowires pull out the pail out from behind the helmscolumn. Your ancestor comes as the cold metal rim touches the insides of his thighs. The Psiionic bites down on your ancestor’s shoulder as he fills his nook with a torrent of genetic material. Lime green slurry pours out from his full nook as the twin bulges withdraw. The biowires remove the bucket from between his legs when the slurry is reduced to a thin trickle. The video cuts to a close up of your exceedingly satiated ancestor.
“Once the genetic material is collected the final step is to take the full pail to the designated donation point in your ship,” his voice is still hoarse. “I hope that you have found this experience to be,” he flashes a quick grin, “informative.” The video cuts to black and the credits roll. You save the video for future use and grab more towels to clean up while you think of what to get Rhoxie for a gift.