Author’s note: I guess I’ll give you readers an idea of what can be expected from the story. Each chapter will feature a different character pairing, focusing mainly on character ‘interactions’ and their experiences aboard the Shepard-SR3. In other words, sex will be in every chapter.
And again, this is a futa story, so be warned or excited.
Chapter 2 – Miranda and Jack
The Shepard SR-3 was docked outside a derelict space station in what was once the heart of Batarian space. Due to the Reaper invasion this quadrant of the galaxy was now largely uninhabited. This made the backwater station a prime location to house some of the Shadow Broker’s more sensitive equipment. With both Liara and Ashley abroad on separate missions, duty fell to Miranda Lawson to oversee operations.
A skeleton crew populated the Shepard SR-3, though most bustled about the space station retrofitting and repairing it for future use. Those who were left on the Shepard either weren’t on the clock or were working in the ship’s shuttle bay, moving and prepping cargo for the space station. Unfortunately not all was running smoothly.
Miranda Lawson stepped from the elevator into the Shepard’s shuttle bay, her eyes affixed to her omni-tool reviewing the day’s schedule. They were two hours behind, putting them offtrack to make a clandestine meeting with one of the Shadow Broker’s most prolific suppliers.
Being the taskmaster that she was, Miranda expected to get the crew back on track. First she’d need to find the party responsible. Miranda navigated the maze of metal crates and industrial-grade equipment scattered throughout the well-lit deck. Her trademark white catsuit reflected off the bright lights hanging overhead. Her ample breasts and butt gave a subtle jiggle with each step, yet her well-coiffed brunette tresses remained still.
Miranda passed idling crew members and even a few who were sleeping, all while searching for the person responsible. Upon rounding the next corner she located this individual.
“We need to discuss our progress, Jack,” Miranda said.
The sound of Jack’s black leather jacket and pants emitted a distinct scrunching noise as she stood from the metallic crate she was reclined on. “What’s there to discuss?”
Miranda called up the data on her omni-tool. “We’re running hours behind schedule. We should have already been prepped to leave for the next shipment. You need to–”
Jack interrupted. “These people have been working round-the-clock for nearly an entire day. They needed a break. It’ll get done.” Her words accompanied a nonchalant hand gesture.
“This isn’t the Grissom Academy,” Miranda replied. “These people aren’t your kids. They don’t need to be coddled. I would think you of all people could understand that.”
“Spare me the lecture. It’ll get done. Now go back to your desk job and worry about your own problems. We don’t need that big ass of yours getting in the way,” Jack said. Her ponytail moving with her mannerisms, unlike the rest of her hair, which was shaven on the sides and pulled tight down the middle.
Miranda’s index finger pointed firmly at Jack. “Seeing as how I’m in charge while Liara is absent, this is my problem. And I don’t need this operation derailed because you’ve gone soft!”
“Soft!” Jack replied. “Fuck off, bitch.” She stomped towards Miranda with eyebrows arched and posture aggressive.
Miranda’s voice was thick with a haughty tone as she spoke. “I was wondering how long it would take you to start behaving like a maladjusted child.” She sidestepped, strafing around Jack with fists cliched tight.
“I’m gonna smear the walls with you bitch,” Jack said.
“Will that be before or after you play the victim?” Miranda taunted.
A surge of biotic energy formed around Jack’s body. “Careful, Shepard isn’t here to save you.”
Both their faces were now boiling with disdain. Circling one another like cats ready to pounce on their prey. The deck’s crew began to gather as well. Not a soul working at their post. They gawked at the rival biotics from behind crates and boxes. A few were discreetly taking bets on the outcome. Others had a pinch of nervousness, fearing what the impending brawl could mean for the ship’s integrity. Though, not a one could take their eyes off what was unfolding.
A purple aura radiated from Miranda’s body as she prepared for combat. “I have to admit, I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Suddenly Jack levitated a hammer, slinging it at Miranda’s head. The attack connected, knocking Miranda off her feet. She hit the ground with a thud, glancing up only to see a biotic blast flying in her direction. Quickly, Miranda rolled to cover behind a metal container. Evading all but superficial damage to her right arm, which was now rent of fabric, but only sustained a few scraps and scratches.
The crew members were now vacating the cargo area. Seeking safety and a better vantage point of the battle. They fled to deck 4, dozens crowded around the observation area that overlooked the shuttle bay.
Jack stalked, nearing the edge of the container that Miranda dashed behind. A smile broke across Jack’s face. She used her biotics to slam the container against the wall repeatedly. “You enjoying yourself yet?” Jack said, yelling loud enough the onlookers could hear.
Something then stirred in Jack’s peripheral vision.
Miranda dove into Jack. Her full-body tackle sent them sliding across the floor. They each scurried to their feet. Miranda planted a right cross on Jack’s chin, then biotic power flared in her left hand as she raised it and threw Jack into a stack of boxes containing scraps, tools, and widgets.
With Jack’s ears ringing from the crash she stumbled off the heap of debris. Her frazzled ponytail swung side to side as she brushed off her haze with a rapid shake of the head. Down on one knee she leered at Miranda advancing on her.
Miranda strode forward with confidence growing. “I knew I should have advised Liara not to recruit you as an officer. You can’t handle authority even with my supervision. Shame on me for thinking you’d turned a corner after our time on the Normandy.”
“I’m done playing with you, bitch.” Jack leaped into the air, then charged downwards, smashing into the floor. The tremor sent a crack across the deck’s surface. Jack followed by unleashing a barrage of biotic blasts on the staggered Miranda.
A backpedaling Miranda erected a biotic barrier. As each forceful blast impacted her shield she felt her power draining. A panicked groan slipped from between her gritted teeth as the barrier fell. Her arms collapsed to her side and her body cringed, steeling herself for Jack’s next attack.
“Don’t worry you ex-Cerberus slut,” Jack said. “I’m not gonna kill you.”
Miranda then felt her muscles tense, her limbs tighten, and every inch of her body freeze in place. She was in biotic stasis.
“Although… once I’m done, you might wish I had.” Jack levitated Miranda in the air, then with a flick of her wrist sent Miranda flying into the side of a steel crate. Jack released the stasis and Miranda dropped feebly to the ground. The sound of knuckles cracking were heard as Jack approached.
“Jack… Stop!” Miranda pleaded in her dazed state as she felt Jack’s hand wrap around her neck and yank her from the floor. Her body was brought to its feet, back pressed firmly against the crate. Next Miranda’s hands were pulled from her side and pinned above her head by a pair of biotic shackles. Her feet, slightly more than shoulder width apart, were fastened to the floor by biotic binds as well. “What are you doing?” Miranda exclaimed.
Jack forcefully clasped the sides of Miranda’s cheeks with her fingers. “I’m gonna teach you a lesson.” She turned around, facing away from Miranda. Her eyes scanned the empty deck, then looked up to the observation area above. All eyes were on her as the predominately male crew watched on with guilty pleasure from behind protective glass. “You boys ready for a show!” Jack shouted.
“Jack, please stop. You’ve had your fun. Let me go,” Miranda urged.
Jack’s open palm slapped across Miranda’s face. “Shut up, bitch.” She lifted Miranda’s chin with her fingertips, tilting the ex-Cerberus agent’s head level with her own. “I’m not ready for you to beg and grovel yet.” Jack stepped back. She removed her leather jacket, kicked off her boots, undid the harness around her chest, and cast the items to the side. Her modest tits were exposed. Her densely tattooed arms and torso on full display for both Miranda and the attentive crew. Jack stood with a maniacal grin and a vicious, brown-eyed stare, reveling in Miranda’s shocked and worried expression.
“Don’t let her do this.” Miranda looked to the crew. None of which appeared particularly eager to help, due to either shameless voyeurism or most likely fear of what Jack would do to anyone who intervened.
Jack moved in, her breath exhaled across Miranda’s face. “Looks like there isn’t anyone to come to your rescue. Must be a shock to a spoiled, rich bitch like yourself.”
“You’re a sociopath,” Miranda said, trying her damnedest to hide her dismay with indignation. Splayed helplessly to the crate’s side, she’d never felt as vulnerable in her life as she did right now.
“No,” Jack replied. “Just a little sadistic.” She reached each hand forward, grabbing two handfuls of Miranda’s tits through her catsuit.
Miranda protested, squirming under Jack’s strong hands, expressing her anguish with groans and growls instead of words. Her limbs, with all their might, fought their biotic chains unsuccessfully.
Jack derived great pleasure from Miranda’s panicked flailing. Savoring the sensation of her rival beaten and disgraced. “Stop your thrashing.” Jack briefly glowed with biotic energy.
This threat was enough to subdue Miranda’s physical resistance. Her body begrudgingly calmed. Now she was only left with a fierce leer.
“That’s better.” Jack pressed her palms into Miranda’s breasts, rotating them over the fabric. “I’ve always hated you, but you’ve got great tits.” Her fingers clasped the zipper on the front of Miranda’s suit.
“Stop! Whatever you’re going to do, don’t!” Miranda said, urgency increasing with each subsequent word. “You win. You’re stronger than me. You’re better than me. Just end this now!”
“Genetically engineered to be perfect, huh? Let’s find out.” Slowly, Jack unzipped Miranda’s white catsuit, inch by inch, revealing the swell of Miranda’s plump, round tits. As Jack continued to lower the zipper the fabric spread wider, freeing Miranda’s breasts with each hanging perky. Finally the zipper came to rest below Miranda’s navel.
Miranda’s face was flush with embarrassment. Eyes averted, unable to directly look at Jack. “Stop,” Miranda said, weakly.
“No bra? Whoever let you whore around in this outfit to begin with?” Jack took her fingertips and gently tucked the fabric behind the outside of each breast. “Wow, they are perfect.” She then squeezed the bare flesh of Miranda’s soft, supple melons.
Miranda could do nothing but take it. She winched and whined as Jack’s hands explored her tits, fingers digging and massaging deeply into her flesh. Miranda felt Jack slap the underside of her breast, giving her tit a playful shake afterward. In an act of defiance Miranda spit into Jack’s face.
Jack wiped the spittle from her eyes and gave Miranda a disapproving scowl. She leaned in, her tattooed body draped over Miranda’s curvy form. Jack raked her long, drool-coated tongue over Miranda’s face in retaliation, leaving a trail of slim. Her rose red lips then pressed to Miranda’s ear. Jack uttered her next sentence, smokey voice dripping with condescension. “I knew you’d enjoy it.” Swaying her body from side to side, Jack could feel a hard set of nipples against her own. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Between being the Illusive Man’s errand girl and losing command to Shepard, I always figured you had a submissive streak a mile deep.”
Miranda was overcome with humiliation as her body betrayed her. “You’ll pay for this. I’m going to hunt you down and kill y–” Her train of thought was derailed as something hard rubbed across her thigh. Miranda’s eyes peered down only to see a generous bulge inside Jack’s leather pants.
Jack smiled wide. “Oh, you didn’t know. I thought between all the dossiers and psych profiles you would have. I guess not all of Cerberus’s misdeeds were in your reports.” Jack unbuttoned her pants, her hands tugged at the sides, gradually lowering the skintight leather from her waist. Her cock sprung forth with a lively bounce. It was a smooth, hairless shaft with a slight gleam of sweat generated by her restricting garb.
Emotions continued to swirl within Miranda, anger to fear, fear to humiliation, humiliation to guilt. “I– I didn’t know. I had no clue what Cerberus was doing at those facilities. I’m sorry Jack. But you aren’t the only one who’s ever been taken advantage of by Cerberus. We have that in common.”
Jack stepped out of her pants and placed her finger on Miranda’s luscious, pink lips. “Shhh, shhh. Poor little princess, ‘Oh no! Daddy made me perfect.’” Jack snorted. “I was a test subject. I had real pain, real problems. All while you pranced around, so smug and superior, lamenting your genes.” Jack grabbed the collar of Miranda’s unzipped catsuit and jerked it down past Miranda’s arms. “Why don’t you just relax and enjoy being my bitch.”
There was more than a hint of resignation behind Miranda’s glassy, blue eyes as she stood bound and disrobed down to her waist. “Your going to fuck me with that thing?”
“What’s the matter?” Jack slipped her hand inside Miranda’s catsuit and glided her fingers down between damp thighs. “Mmm, if only your mind was as willing as your body.” Jack rubbed Miranda’s swollen, wet pussy, watching the ex-Cerberus agent twitch and shudder to the movements of her dexterous fingers.
A sharp gasp exited Miranda’s quivering lips. Her hips vacillated, chasing to and retreating from Jack’s touch. She hated her body, and hated even more that Jack’s words carried truth.
“Come here!” Jack placed her hand on the small of Miranda’s back and drew her close. She then freed Miranda’s wrists and ankles of their biotic shackles.
Miranda collapsed forward, hands clutching at Jack’s body, knees weak of strength and resolve. There was no protest, no defiance, no revolt. Instead Miranda’s enervated body moved to the motions of Jack’s hands.
Jack released Miranda from her grasp, then rested her arms at her side. “Turn around and face the wall. Do it slowly.”
This was far more demeaning than being taken by force. Now Miranda found herself with a choice, submit to her own debasement or save what little dignity she had left in a futile rebellion. She glanced at the crew of voyeurs, the beady-eyed men getting off on this depraved show ignited what little ire she had left. Then Miranda’s gaze turned to Jack, her rival stood with a stone-cold leer that drained Miranda of courage and filled her with doubt. Under much duress Miranda did as she was told. With eyes sealed tight in shame she slowly turned, facing away from Jack.
“Good girl…” Jack grabbed a wad of fabric bunched at Miranda’s waist. In one swift, violent motion she teared Miranda’s entire bodysuit off. Leaving Miranda completely nude, aside from her knee-high, black boots.
Consequently, a startled Miranda let out a shrill cry.
“Look at that ass. What do you think boys?” Jack said, playing to the crowd. Her fingertips gently traced the outline of Miranda’s shapely, round ass. “Leave the boots on. You’ll need the leverage.”
Miranda’s terror was escalating, but her resistance was eroding, and Jack’s foreboding orders didn’t serve to sooth Miranda’s conflicted psyche. Miranda knew what came next. Two words. Two thrilling, awful, torrid words that burned in her mind, silently hoping and praying and pleading not to hear them. Then…
“Bend over,” Jack said.
Those two words were accompanied by an actual cheer from the crew. It was crushing, but undeniably exhilarating. It was the price for challenging a rival that Miranda could never imagine standing on equal footing with again.
“I said bend over,” Jack repeated, this time less playful and more stern than before.
Miranda acquiesced, outstretching her arms to brace them on the crate’s side and bending at a 90 degree angle. Her bare ass on display, ready and waiting to be used and she could do nothing to stop it. Yet, to Miranda’s own surprise her feeling of dread began to wane.
“Oh my god! That ass,” Jack said, “it’s incredibly. I would say you should be proud, but I know these genes are a bit of a sore spot. Mmm, mmm, mmm” Jack squeezed and tugged the pliant flesh of Miranda’s curvy butt, pressing her rigid cock lengthwise between Miranda’s cheeks and rocking her hips back and forth. “If I didn’t want to bury my cock inside you so bad, I’d smother my face in this big, bubbly butt.”
As much as Miranda might of wished it to be, her state was far from catatonic. Her heart was racing, her breath was labored, and her body was slick with perspiration. Each throb of Jack’s warm meat chipped away at her inhibitions.
Jack gave Miranda’s ass a firm smack, watching as a ripple of flesh traveled across the cheek. She then delivered another forceful slap. “Why don’t you shake that ass for me?”
It was so tempting, desire building to completely let go. Miranda found her body aching, trembling for a reason. It was another resonant pop from Jack’s palm to Miranda’s butt that coaxed a physical response. Miranda commenced in gyrating her ass, rhythmically swaying it in all directions, grinding on the cock wedged between her cheeks.
“Your mine now,” Jack said, basking in her conquest. Pre-cum dripped from her cock, leaking down the length of her shaft and lubing the crack of Miranda’s ass. “Remember when I said I wasn’t ready for you to beg and grovel? Well, I am now.”
Miranda’s lips were mum, but her body talked for her. She continued to glide her deliciously skillful ass vertically, sliding up and down Jack’s package like a stripper working a pole.
Jack teased Miranda’s tight asshole with her bulbous head, then spoke with an aggressive growl to her words. “Who’s my little biotic bitch?”
Miranda wet her lips. She then answered, barely above a whisper. “I am.”
“Louder,” Jack said.
“I am. I’m your biotic slut!” Miranda’s eyes welled at her admission, but so did her wet, craving pussy.
“Slut, bitch, what’s the difference.” Jack rolled her fingertips from the small of Miranda’s back to her shoulders. “You want this cock inside your ass, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Miranda could feel the pressure of Jack’s thick cockhead pressing against her asshole.
“Beg for it!” Jack said.
“Please, Jack. Fuck me!” Miranda pleaded. “I’ve wanted you since the party at the Citadel.”
“And I’ve wanted to fuck you to your knees since Shepard had me make nice.” Jack clutched a handful of Miranda’s long hair. She then simultaneously pulled Miranda’s head back by the mane and slammed her cock into her rival’s waiting ass.
Miranda released a scream laced with both pleasure and pain. Her arms gave way and her body collapsed into the hard surface of the crate’s side. She was pinned between cold, impersonal steel and Jack’s warm, sweaty, lunging body. Miranda’s ass expanded and contracted over and over again as Jack had her way. Prolonged moans echoed within the cargo bay from Miranda, inflection oscillating with each thrust received.
Jack’s hips were pumping like pistons, viciously plowing Miranda’s snug, hot hole. Beads of sweat flaked from her body as she continued to ream the ex-Cerberus agent. Jack tightened her grip on Miranda’s hair and her off hand wrapped around Miranda’s left upper thigh, pulling it back for leverage. She watched in depraved glee as Miranda’s helpless body moved to her will.