>>6052775

Your name... is not 'David "Gunny" Rockefeller'. Your name is Ronnie. Or just 'Ron' to your friends.
And somehow, don't ask how, but somehow, you've ended up as the leader of the 21st New Xebric Pirate Raiders.

Which is actually just a group of ten men, who are as far as you can tell, completely randomly selected from a dozen different pirate groups.
You only know one of the men in your group, Kazzek, and unfortunately he's not very fond of you.

You aren't sure how long it's been exactly, but probably about half a week ago the ship you were serving on was badly damaged, along with many others.
Nobody knows exactly what happened even now, but everyone who survived was imprisoned after that.

The station you're on is shockingly cold, and it looks like it's been torn apart by heavy machinery in places.
It's also very, very empty. Something feels odd about it.

The day after you'd been imprisoned, a man who you've come to know as the station administrator came to visit your cell.
He faced you all alone without a hint of fear in his eyes, as if the thought of being attacked or killed hadn't even been a consideration.

And he almost immediately showed you why that was.

As soon as he opened the cell door, one of the others immediately tried to attack him and escape. You don't blame him, you might have done the same.
Gods, you're so glad that you didn't. That could have been a mistake that ended your life.

The Administrator, who you now know is called 'David', didn't even move.
He simply thrust his fist out from where he was standing, and yet the impact was enough to stop this pirate captain in his tracks.

And then, as if to finish him, the Administrator kicked the man in his stomach so hard that he was lifted into the air, and knocked over three other people as he was flung into them.

He was strong. Certainly so.
Small but extremely muscular, it was clear that he must be an apex predator from some death world.

You'd never seen one of his kind before, but that's nothing unusual out on the rim, where many of the galaxy's dregs gather.
Still, you were certain that he couldn't possibly take on all of you. There must be fifteen or twenty men gathered in this cell, so as the others whispered to eachother, you made a suggestion.

"Maybe if we all work together?"

"Shut the fuck up, Ronnie." Kazzek immediately replies, shutting you down.

Well, so much for that.
It's pointless to try and overwhelm him if no-one's willing to help.

The administrator dragged one man out of the cell and left the rest of you.
You didn't see him again until the next day, which is when you found out what would be happening to you all.

"These are explosive collars." The administrator explained, as if it were nothing to worry about.

He went over their surveillance functions in great detail, and even demonstrated their stunning ability.
It was clear that he wasn't planning on letting you go.

One by one, he placed those collars on each and every one of you.

>>6052794
>it was clear that he must be an apex predator from some death world.
>meanwhile, humans beings on the weaker side of the primates let alone other animal classifications

Also; fuckin' Ronnie.

>>6052794
Ronnie is my spirit animal now, we must have more of him before his painful demise by bugs

>>6052923
technically we were, and are the apex predator, just not because of our strength. Endurance is what allowed humanity to conquer, and tool usage propelled us to domination

>>6053051
Yes, but, from what Ronnie and the others saw all they know is we are strong as fuck. Which is what makes it humorous to me.

>>6052794

After that, it was like he didn't care what you did anymore.
He simply let all of you out of the cells, and had you line up outside the bounty office.

From there, you walked down the ruined streets, through a tunnel and into the station's industrial district.
You had thought that maybe you'd be loaded up onto a transport ship to be sold as slaves, but apparently not.

At the center of that district, there's a tall tower stretching all the way up to the next level. That was where he was leading you.

On the inside, it had the appearance of an office building.
You all filed in one by one to get out of the cold. Thankfully it was much, much warmer inside.

Malix, the man the administrator had taken earlier, ordered you all onto the elevator.
Only one of them was in working condition, so it took a while for you all to get to the top, six or eight people at a time.

You were one of the last to make the ride up, and when you finally got to where you were going, what you saw surprised you.
It was almost like the surface of some urbworld, with paved streets, sidewalks and... dead grass. But there had been grass, at some point. Isn't that insane?

Grass, on a station. There are even a couple of trees here or there.
And more than anything, it's kinda warm up here.

"Everyone, follow me." Malix ordered. "We're headed to the campground."

Campground?
You weren't sure what he meant by that. You'd never been camping before.

...As it turns out, it simply means you're going to be sleeping in a field.

When you arrived at the "campground" it turned out to be a public park, with a large pile of supplies and equipment sitting on pallets, waiting to be set up.
Malix opened one of the crates in the pile and tipped it over, dumping out dozens of log-like packets of fabric, each with a bundle of metal rods taped to it.

"These will be our homes for the time being. Watch carefully, i'm going to show you how to set these up."

This part took hours and hours. The whole rest of the day, basically.
Tents... you hate tents so much. They were kind of hard to set up by yourself, so you ended up going around and helping others with theirs.

If you hadn't, then it probably never would have gotten done.

In the end, they were just little domes made of fabric, but... after spending a couple of days shoulder to shoulder with so many other men, it was nice to have some privacy.
And it was a little warmer inside the tent, too. That's good. You like being warm.

It wasn't warm in the jail cells.

After all the tents were set up, you were so tired, you just wanted to rest for the night.
But the sound of banging metal urged you to get up again.

Those who didn't started to get warning beeps from their collars, but only one man who'd already fallen asleep actually got shocked.

The banging sound turned out to be the administrator, who was banging a ladle against a metal cooking pan.
Ah, that's right... it'd been over twenty hours since you last ate, hadn't it?

>>6053466
>inb4 our slave gruel is miles ahead of anything they've ever eaten

>>6053511
>it tastes like shit
>wait it TASTES?!

>>6053511
slaves, soldiers or whoever, the way to get their loyalty is through their stomachs

Even something vaguely chicken noodle soup-like would be mindblowing. Wait until they experience the joy of MSG and chicken salt.

>>6053466

The administrator waited for everyone to gather around, then gave a quick statement about how a bunch of insects had raided the station's hydroponics bay, leading to a food shortage.
You don't really remember what he had said though, because there was a delicious smell hanging in the air that had completely distracted you, and quite a few others.

You still don't know what exactly was in it, but when he lifted the lid off that giant pot and gave it a stir, the whole area was overwhelmed by the smell of meat and vegetables.

You expected to get a nutrient bar if you were lucky. It's what they'd given to tide you over while you were in the jail cells.
But this, it was something else. Something you'd never had before.

"Sorry, but since there ain't much to eat and i gotta feed two hundred of you bastards, the meals are gonna be a little light."

"Wha... what is it?" Someone asked.

"It smells amazing..." Someone else growled, licking their lips.

"Hamburger soup." The administrator replied. "Although there's not a whole lot of hamburger meat in it this time around, it's plenty hearty and should keep you alive."

If not for the threat of an electric shock, he might have been swarmed by hungry prisoners right then and there.
A couple of guys got zapped for fighting over their place in line. Everyone wanted a bowl.

About halfway through, you finally got yours. The administrator personally ladled out two big scoops of soup for you.
It had a deep red broth, which smelled tangy, and sweet, and savory all at once.

The ceramic bowl was quickly heating up in your hands, so you took it over to a row of folding tables that had been set up before you arrived.
Many people had already sat down to eat, but you were still worried someone would steal your food from you.

You used your spoon to pick through the soup. There were little yellow blobs, mushy green things, other mushy green things... and brown chunks of something hard.
There was also oil floating on top. Synth oil you guessed, to bolster the calories in such a small bowl of food. That was what you thought.

You couldn't recognize any of it, but you didn't have much choice, and it smelled delicious anyways, so... you blew on the spoon to cool it off and took a bite.

The flavor was quite literally indescribable.
There was a distinct and almost overwhelmingly powerful taste of vegetables, but you'd never tasted anything like it before.

There were many different textures. Something crunchy, something mushy, something chewy... and the broth was incredibly rich and thick on it's own, like it had been mixed with milk.

But the chewy stuff was what got your attention. That flavor, it couldn't possibly be, could it?
It was. Not in a form you recognized, but this soup had actual meat in it.

That must be what made the broth so rich, surely.

Why would he give meat to a bunch of slaved, though? During a food shortage, at that?
Now you were worried that this might end up being your last meal.

>>6054404
>Now you were worried that this might end up being your last meal.
that's why you give the good (desu, mediocre in our standards) meals back when they return

I can only imagine how this scene would've played out if David was a british commando instead of a U.S. marine.
>Awroight we got ya bread'n'beens, wiv'uh slice'a buttah annuh spought've tea.
Even the ayyyys eat better than British rationing hours.

>>6054426
For as bad as British cuisine got during the blitz, their mastery of pastries and savory foods is still second to none. It's not all beans on toast and jellied eels.

>>6054426 #
Can you imagine what British cuisine was like before they got to the orient? They wouldn't even have had tea...
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toast_sandwich

I'm starting to suspect that it's not that the British were in the habit of starving their prisoners of war to death, but that it was a voluntary choice the POWs chose over the alternative

>>6054492
Just wait until you've had the experience of a freshly baked pumpkin scone, sliced and buttered. They're so good. So good.

>>6054404

Apparently you weren't the only one who was put off by the administrator's generosity.

"What the hell is this?!" A man at the next table over yelled.

Those sitting around him looked to him, confused.

"What? What's going on?"

"There's meat in this! Look!" He yells, pointing to the brown chunks in his spoon.

"Yeah? That's good, ain't it?" Someone replies, sounding annoyed.

"Think about it, dumbasses! Where the hell did they get meat on a station like this! And have you ever tasted meat like this before?!"

There's a pause in conversation as people look between eachother.

"It's not rodent meat, it's not synth fish, it's not even teraphid meat! You tell me, have you ever eaten anything that tastes like that?!"

"I haven't..."

"Me either, actually..."

The people had started to whisper.
And they were whispering things that made you look down into your own bowl with a mix of fear and disgust.

"He said it himself, didn't he?! There's a food shortage on this station! So what do you think we're eating? It's people, man! We're eating other sentients!"

You heard several forks drop, and at least a few people start to retch.
At the same time though, at least one guy was less perturbed.

He turned to his buddy and asked...

"Was there a sentient species that tasted this good...?"

"What the fuck, man."

"I mean, it's not really cannibalism. I'm just saying."

"Dude. Dude."

"What! Fuck you man, i'm hungry."

About this time, the administrator, who was still dishing out food, finally stepped in.
He projected his voice across the entire dining area, so that everyone could hear him over the clamor.

"I hear you all talking shit over there! What, is my cooking not good enough for you ungrateful bastards?"

All attention immediately turned to him.
Some of the folks who had already begun eating looked pissed.

"What kind of meat is this?!" One demands.

"Are you feeding us the flesh of sentients?!" Another yells.

The administrator grinned widely, flashing his teeth at you all.
You know some predators do that as a social gesture, and normally it doesn't bother you, but... coming from him, for some reason, it makes you uneasy.

"And so what if i am?" He asks. "What the fuck are you gonna do about it? Go ahead, nobody's forcing you to eat. But when you start to starve, i bet you'll change your mind in a hurry."

>There was no way you could eat this stuff if it really had... people... in it. You'd rather go hungry than do something like that.
>...He was right. It didn't matter what was in the food, you had to eat whatever he gave you in order to survive, and so you did.
>You don't know if he was telling the truth or not, but you didn't want to chance it. You ended up picking out the bits of meat and giving them to someone else.
>Write-In?

>>6055000
>Throw in your vocal support for the administrator, maybe you'll get something out of it. If nothing else, you can probably convince the cowards to give you their meat. Fuck 'em! You're not going to get shocked over them being retarded.

>>6055004
+1
Ronnie sounds like the guy to actually act, even if not always in the smartest way

>>6055004
>Throw in your vocal support for the administrator, maybe you'll get something out of it. If nothing else, you can probably convince the cowards to give you their meat. Fuck 'em! You're not going to get shocked over them being retarded.

RONNIE'S LOGIC: if this were actual sentient meat, the slaves would have been turned into food, not being fed this. Although it is puzzling that he considers this as a food shortage meal

>>6055004
+1

>>6055004
+1
For better or worse, Ronnie is unaffected by Bystander Syndrome.

>>6055210
>For better or worse, Ronnie is unaffected by Bystander Syndrome.
Even in the void of space, autism will find you.

>>6055000
>>6055004
Ronnie ronnie he's our man, if he doesnt survive nobody can!

>>6055416
Shit, man, spoilers!
*muffled laughter*

>>6055000

"You sick bastard!" Someone yells.

Another man threw his bowl in the administrator's direction, missing him entirely.
He immediately got shocked for it, hard. He collapsed, convulsing, until finally the collar let him go.

But the whole crowd was still pissed.
Until you slammed your spoon down on the table, hard enough to make the silverware jump.

"That's ENOUGH!" You yelled, standing up.

All eyes turned from the administrator over to you.
Even the administrator himself, who had already started walking back to his stew pot, spared you a glance.

You aren't sure what made you do this. It was even more unclear in the moment.
You must be an idiot. Sometimes you feel like there's no filter between your brain and your mouth.

"What's enough, you fuckin' loser?!" One man yells.

Kazzek came up from behind and tugged lightly on your shirt.

"Ronnie, shut up, man. Come on, just sit down..." He whispered.

"There's no sentient flesh in this soup!" You asserted. "I'm sure of it!"

"Ah yeah? And what makes you so sure, genius?" The same man yelled across the tables.

...You didn't know for sure, honestly. But you felt like that's wasn't the case.

"...Because, like you said, there's a food shortage."

"Yeah, and that's why-"

You cut him off.

"That's why, if he were feeding people to eachother, we'd be in this soup instead of eating it!"

The clamor died down a bit as people looked between eachother.

"Think about it!" You continued. "We're pirates! We attacked them, tried to starve them out... and they still didn't kill us! Sure, we're enslaved... but look around you!"

You waved your arms at all the people walking around the camp.

"Is there anyone missing?! Anyone who didn't die in the initial fight?! NO!"

"He's right, now that i think about it. Even Dakorr is still here, and he's fat as shit." Someone whispered to the man next to him.

"What about those who DID die in that ambush?!" Someone countered. "He could be feeding us those corpses! Or the ones who were already dead on this station!"

...Shit, he was right about that. It's possible, honestly. But still, you didn't believe it.
Maybe you just don't want to believe it. Is that so wrong, though? Who would ever even do something like that?

"He's not, gods damn it! You should be lucky he's feeding you bastards at all!" You yelled back.

"I'm gonna feed you my fuckin' fist if you don't shut the hell up! Nobody's gonna eat this slop if i got anything to say about it!"

Just as things are getting heated, just as you thought it was about to devolve into a fistfight and get you both shocked half to death...
The administrator appeared behind the man who was yelling at you, and smacked him over the head with his ladle so hard that it completely lost it's shape.

The man grabbed his head in response to the pain, but so did the administrator.
Yanking him around by the singular, antenna-like appendage on his head, he was forced to sit back in his chair.

And then, he whispered into his ear.

>>6055796
>"What about those who DID die in that ambush?!" Someone countered. "He could be feeding us those corpses! Or the ones who were already dead on this station!"
Simple, he'd be rationing it out to the people of the station. Not giving it to these scrubs.

>>6055796
>hard that it completely lost it's shape.
The ladde or the head?

File: file.png (131 KB, 690x541)

131 KB PNG

>>6055821

>>6055825
heh... got it boss

>>6055825
reminds me of Tom&Jerry shenanigans

File: 1708362177171403.png (224 KB, 500x500)

224 KB PNG

>>6055796
"You'll cowards don't even smoke crack."

>>6055796

Whatever the administrator said to him, it must have been horrible.
The man froze stiff, and his expression was as if he'd just come face to face with a wraith.

The administrator patted him twice on the shoulder and simply walked off.

But the man he whispered to was still just stuck, frozen in place for a minute or two, until someone finally asked if he's alright.
That snapped him out of his stupor, but instead of responding, he quickly stood up and walked back to his tent without eating.

"Hey, if he's not eating that, i call dibs!"

Someone grabs his bowl and guards it jealously next to their own.

"Seriously, Ronnie. You gotta learn when not to speak up, man. If you do something to grab that freak's attention and he kills you, i'm not bailing your stupid ass out." Kazzek chided you.

You didn't particularly think you'd done anything special, but maybe you were wrong.

Dinner is mostly quiet after that. Most people eat. Some don't. Others eat their portion for them, that's just how it goes.
For your part, you eat it all. You really don't think there's anything bad in the food. Probably.

...And it helps that it's so delicious.

...

The next morning, you woke up in your tent practically brimming with energy, despite how little you'd eaten the night before and the whole day before that.
Stretching your limbs, you exited your tent and immediately saw the administrator was once again walking around the camp, and seemed to be gathering people up.

Turns out you were right, and before long he's got the whole camp rounded up.

You're taken to an empty field where several tables have been set up, and what look like practice targets had been placed quite some distance away.
You'd thought the targets were much too far out for phaser training, and you were right.

The administrator had a different air about him today.
He didn't have that same oppressive tone to his voice as before. Rather, he spoke loudly, clearly and concisely.

Apparently this was called a "Range Day" and, simply speaking, it was aim training... but not with phasers, nor with plasma weapons.
The administrator spoke to everyone over a set of loudspeakers to ensure he was heard well, and described in great detail the form and function of a "Gun".

Guns are... kind of nuts, actually.

Metal tubes that contain explosions just long enough to launch a piece of lead down their length.
Why lead? Isn't that stuff poisonous? Why explosions? Couldn't you just use a coilgun?

You don't get it, personally. But the administrator, who now insisted on being called "Instructor", seemed very passionate about them.

After he's done with his explanation, he split all of you up into eight big groups and had you gather around for a close-up demonstration.
Together with him are several others that you haven't seen before, including a Caithan and two more of his kind.

You end up stationed at the table manned by the Caithan.

File: catcock.jpg (27 KB, 720x833)

27 KB JPG

>>6056391
>Caithan
[Lust intensifies] in Ronnie

>>6056405
>don't stare at her arms don't stare at her arms don't stare at her arms don't sta- gods damn she's built, how did she get so muscular?
>"Are you checking me out?"
>"HEY SHITLIPS ARE YOU CHECKING HER OUT?!"
>FUCK

>>6056391
>"Oh gods she could crush my skull between her thighs. Oh gods did I say that out load?"

>>6056405
>>6056499
>>6056597
Ronnie is the new Quest mascot. Sorry Princess.

>>6056687
>[dismissive reptilian growling ensues]
Princess will always reign supreme.

>>6056692
See you next thread when you realize how much more screentime Ronnie's gonna get

As soon as the food shortage is solved I want to try an experiment with newly promoted to no longer buttmonkey, Gildur.

>>6056391

"Alright, listen up, all of you. I can't stress enough how dangerous these weapons are, so please pay attention to everything i'm about to tell you." She warned.

Over the course of the demonstration, she disassembled and reassembled a "Pistol", a "Shotgun" and a "Rifle", and took care to explain every working part of each one.
She also pulled apart a "Bullet" and dumped the explosive powder out onto the table, then lit it on fire. There was a big flash, but not much of plume of smoke nor a loud noise to speak of.

You were somewhat distracted during her demonstration, however.
The woman in front of you was rather short for a Caithan. You're certain she's over twenty years old since her mane has grown in.

She's really just that small...

But despite how little she is, she's packed on more muscle than any Caithan you've ever seen in your life. Maybe even twice as much.
You had to wonder, is it that bodysuit she's wearing, just making her look bulky?

That question was answered when she bent down and picked up an entire shipping crate, at least two meters by two meters, and lifted it up onto her shoulder.
Through that skintight suit, you could see her back muscles, bicep and legs bulging. She's a walking slab of rock-hard muscle.

Absolutely freakish. You have no doubt that she's using some sort of drug cocktail to stimulate muscle growth, no doubt shortening her lifespan.
You see it from time to time, being a pirate. People who want to get a little bit stronger, and end up dying for it in the end. Enlarged hearts, hormone regulation issues... it's awful.

You've served with a Caithan or two in your time. You know what they're supposed to look like, and what they're normally capable of, physically.
This woman is an absolute monster. You can't even imagine what she could do to a man in a scrap. Dangerous.

She set the clearly heavy crate down with a thud by the range, and began setting up large blocks of what look like gelatin.
Each one was in the shape of a humanoid torso, and had (you hope) fake bones and organs inside of them, all visible from the outside.

She explained that these were targets used to demonstrate the damage a "bullet" can cause.

After having all of you line up, she then fired a pistol three times into the target.
The damage was immense, far worse than you expected.

She pushed a metal rod through the wounds she'd created, and all but one had gone cleanly through the simulated torso.
The one that didn't had struck the sternum, cracking it, and then stopped against the spine.

You were struck. Even the smallest, weakest "Gun" she had shown you was capable of this much?
Stabbing holes clean through your body, and even breaking bones?

Blood pooled in the fake torso where it had struck the organs. At that moment, you were certain. Getting shot by one of these things, just once... it was a death sentence.

Phasers and Plasma weapons, they could kill. But it depended on how powerful they were, and where they struck.

>>6056964
Smart man Ronnie, we are watching for horny thoughts of our cat gf.

File: vlcsnap-2024-06-09-14h46m(...).png (1.32 MB, 1440x1080)

1.32 MB PNG

>>6056964
>5

File: vlcsnap-2024-06-09-14h38m(...).png (1.57 MB, 1440x1080)

1.57 MB PNG

>>6056964
>>6057311 <-- Wrong one

>>6056964

If you were struck by a bullet though, you don't think it would matter.

If it hit you in the leg, you'd bleed out.
If it hit you in the toe, your toe would explode and you'd bleed out.

...And if the gun exploded, you'd get hit in the head with shrapnel and bleed out. You can't say you're a fan of the design.

When you voiced this concern, the caithan instructor simply assured you "Just trust me, they won't explode."

You have trouble believing that.

Regardless, the demonstration continued, and you were subjected to increasingly loud and destructive displays of explosive projectile-launching weaponry.
The pistol wasn't so bad. You'd been given foam ear-plugs and earmuffs, both of which you wore.

You're glad you did. Those who refused weren't reprimanded, which initially led you to believe that they perhaps weren't all that necessary.
However, given how little you could hear and how loud the pistol was despite that fact, and the others who clenched their ears or even tried to run away during it's firing, well...

The shotgun was so loud that you could feel a thump in your chest every time she fired it. By that point every single person was wearing their hearing protection.
The first rifle she used was even louder, which was somewhat surprising since it seemed smaller.

But the second rifle she used was oddly quiet. Even quieter than the pistol, in fact.
Until she started using explosive rounds, that is.

As for the damage, it was varied, but always utterly excessive.

For the shotgun, she showed three types of damage on a single target.
The first was from "Birdshot", and the target was filled with hundreds of tiny penetrative wounds.

You can't imagine the kind of pain that would cause. The bleeding would be awful, and treating the injuries would be difficult, since you'd have to dig out hundreds of lead pellets.
It's the sort of thing that should definitely be outlawed in the federation, but you've never heard of such a weapon in the first place, so who knows if it is.

The second was "Buckshot". Simply put, the lead pellets were made larger.
Each one seemed to do about as much damage as the pistol, crushing bone and tearing apart organs.

But a single round of "Buckshot" struck the target eight different times at once.
Why? They'd be dead after a single bullet wound, wouldn't they? Who are you fighting that you need to shoot them seven more times?

And as if that was somehow not enough, she finished off the shotgun demonstration with "Deer slugs".

"These are for targets that won't go down easily. They won't penetrate armor well, but a bug's carapace shouldn't be able to stop them." She explained.

She fired three deer slugs into the target in quick succession.
The first simply caused the target's head to explode, sending chunks of skull and brain flying everywhere. The second shot hit the target in the chest and caused it to jump nearly off the table.

>>6057607
Next on Garand Thumb...!

>>6057607
Thanks, I have a gun boner now

>>6057790
>"And what do we say about catgirls Micah?"
>"It's okay when they piss on the furniture but not me."

>>6057607
Now wondering how many aliens are from 'loud worlds' that require hearing to develop in a way that protects them from most excessive noises. I imagine they would speak in higher frequencies to cut through deeper sounds with higher clarity.

>>6057607
>Our Cat Gf cant be this hot in a demonstration video
We could have made millions by acting like FPS Russia or Garand thumb, but with cat woman.

>>6057882
Gunsmith Catgirl?

>>6057607

And the third shot severed the spine, basically splitting the dummy in half and causing it to fall over in two pieces, connected only by a hunk of shredded... gelatin.

You were shocked into silence at the damage it caused.
Many people there were.

"Hoooooly shit!"

Most of them.

The Caithan instructor continued her display, ending it off with explosive rounds from the quiet rifle.
They did catastrophic damage, even worse than the deer slugs.

That said, when you're trying to compare "Completely Shredded" with "Even More Shredded", it doesn't really matter at that point.

"...And that's why we never put our finger on the trigger until we're ready to shoot." She explained. "Because one accident can and will leave someone looking like that."

She pointed at the folding table, covered in bits of gelatin and dripping with blood.

"You must always be aware of where you're pointing your weapon. These bullets won't stop when they hit something, they'll punch right through whoever or whatever and kill someone else, too."

She must have drilled those rules into your heads a hundred times before any of you were even allowed to touch one of those weapons.
But you see why, because as soon as she started teaching one of you how to shoot, he almost immediately broke those rules.

Not intentionally, of course. He'd start talking to her, then simply forget he was holding the pistol.
His finger would slip down onto the trigger, where it so naturally rests... or he'd accidentally point his weapon at someone for a moment.

She became furious immediately whenever it happened, and moreso as it kept happening.
After the tenth time or so, she simply began shocking anyone who made a mistake, and informing them of what they did only afterwards.

That helped, you think. People were more afraid of their collars than the weapons for some reason, but you... well, when it was time for you to shoot...

"There, just like that. Keep your shoulders back, and don't lean forwards. Hold your right hand with the left, and keep your grip below the slide." She instructed.

The instructor repeatedly corrected your posture, but you couldn't focus on it for how nervous you were.
She had already explained the "iron sights" a dozen times over, so you understood what you were supposed to do, but your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

That is, until she wrapped her arms around you and helped to stabilize your aim.
You felt something firm pressing against your back, and suddenly all of your nervousness disappeared.

With a shockingly steady hand that surprised even you, you lined up your shot and fired.

...It was a hit.

You were aiming for the "center mass", but struck the dummy in the lower left abdomen.
It was nearly a miss, but you were still happy. The target was set up pretty far away, and only three others had hit it out of your entire group.

"Hey, great shot!" She cheered.

"...I did good?" You questioned.

"Very good, actually! Now, please clear your weapon and set it down."

>>6058537
>That is, until she wrapped her arms around you and helped to stabilize your aim.
>You felt something firm pressing against your back, and suddenly all of your nervousness disappeared.

>ronnie's fw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VR9wmlmD2SA
kek

>>6058537
Tits help focus, he will learn well without them, or be castrated.

>>6058537

On the first day, each of you only got to fire a single bullet from each weapon.
Sometimes two, if it was a close miss.

After that, they ran a bunch of other tests, too.
Physical and mental aptitude tests, with a bunch of strange requirements like seeing how long you can hold your breath, or answering a bunch of hypothetical questions.

It was nothing like the school you attended as a child, where they simply taught you how to fly a specific line of civilian cargo ships.
The questions were so strange, varied and abstract that you honestly had no idea what the correct answer was on most of them, so you just did your best.

You never received a score back on the mental part of the test, but for the physical, everyone's numbers were displayed on a big screen in the middle of camp, for all to see.
You're pretty happy with how you placed. Somewhere in the middle of the top third, better than most of the guys around you.

You've always been pretty confident when it comes to your speed and flexibility, maybe strength a little less so.

...The guys towards the bottom of that list were bullied endlessly that night.
Meanwhile, those who scored higher such as yourself, were treated a little better than usual.

Unfortunately for you, Kazzek scored even higher than you did, and his attitude towards you didn't change in the slightest.
If anything, he was more smug and dismissive of you than usual.

You get the feeling that physical confirmed something he already assumed, and now he's very proud of himself. Whatever.

Your meal that night was some strange sort of bread, which you think was made from nutrient paste... or at least, it tasted similar.
That, together with a creamy stew containing lots of vegetables, and again, some sort of meat... but in larger, more visible chunks this time.

It was delicious, fatty and slightly sweet. You don't know how else to describe it.

There were at least a couple of fights that night, because some people got four pieces of meat while others got five.
You're not sure if you were simply lucky or if the administrator favored you, but you can never tell the others that you actually got seven pieces of meat that night.

...

The next morning, there was bad news.
Someone was dead.

Apparently they'd snuck out to the range and tried to steal a gun from one of the crates by the range.
You wondered how it was possible, but apparently they'd slipped a piece of cardboard between the electrical contact and their neck, so they wouldn't get shocked.

That was a bad idea, since they made it about a hundred meters from the camp before their collar popped.

It's suspected that he was going to try and hijack a ship to escape the station.
Idiot. They already told him, if the collar ever lost signal it would pop after five minutes. What did he think would happen if he flew away?

The administrator didn't seem bothered by it at all, though. In fact, he didn't even mention it.

>>6058907
>Seven pieces of meat
Our boy's going to eclipse others in strength soon with all this extra protein to convert into muscle.
Wait a minute...
David's not going to put these niggers through gravity training, is he?

>>6058934
>implying he isn't increasing the gravity in camp by a few percent each day

>>6058934
maybe the cream of the crop, but definitely not everyone, nor the most arrogants(looking at you kazzek). we need soldiers, not idiot hotshots; with david is more than enough

I have just now internalized the fact that Redbone and Pickle each had their own group of trainees.
I can only imagine how many of these aliens think the first rule of gun safety is to have fun now.

>>6058940
>The first rule of gun safety is shoot those assholes before they shoot you.
>The first rule of gun safety is to switch it off.

>>6057607
>It's the sort of thing that should definitely be outlawed in the federation
I didn't knew the feds were NAZIS

>>6059505
nah, they're gun-grabbin' commies.

>>6059518
no no, in 1918 germany- nvm
Also TETAS.
>>6058940 Come on, they are marines first and people second...
Lastly
>A piece of cardboard between the elctrical contact and their skin.
David did this in purporse didn't he

File: armedsociety.png (6.44 MB, 2560x1600)

6.44 MB PNG

>>6059505
Alright, rant time.
People, for whatever reason, get it in their heads that a weapon that's too effective is somehow unfit for use in peaceful society. A "weapon of war" if you will.
Now I understand where they're coming from, being able to rip people to shreds so instantly and so casually is frankly disgusting and terrifying. What I DON'T understand is why anybody would want the government to monopolize that level of force under the very clearly false pretenses of "keeping people safe".
You want to ensure you're not constantly subject to this kind of aggression? You better be ready to project it yourself. The threat of retaliation is the only thing that will ever make an armed aggressor reconsider their actions.
TLDR; pic related, and don't let anybody tell you different. Enjoy your new spot on the NSA watchlist because I posted this shit.

>>6059523
Because the kind of people who constantly fantasize about killing other people think everybody is a secret psycho like they are and don't want to get killed.

>>6059523
I understand that you gringos ammended your constitution to topple a tyrannical goverment (IN CASE OF) and civilians with guns is against what your goverment wants now. Gee, if I were to connect the dots I would say that your goverment is trying to be tyrannical...
And I think there should be an even better version of guns. A button that kills you and your agressor. People wouldn't use it to harm others because they die, and others wouldn't want to risk getting deleted for a dollar. Of course, there would be a looooot of deaths at the start but the survivors will learn that life is something precious worth more than anything else

File: MkII_07.jpg (211 KB, 1200x1638)

211 KB JPG

>>6059547
>A button that kills you and your aggressor.

You know, if goobermints weren't so shitty as to make so many damn criminals we wouldn't need to worry about any of this shit in the first place. Dang ol world peace'll never happen cause've feddies I tell ya h'wat.

File: Spoiler Image (20 KB, 360x360)

20 KB JPG

>>6059581
Well how are you supposed to control things that don't belong to you if they're stable internally?

File: 1704018086944901.png (193 KB, 322x527)

193 KB PNG

>>6059589
Sir I believe that if we gave over total control to the guppies and swore total support to a strong, united, legally just party we would live in a truly free and safe society.

File: proxy-image.jpg (83 KB, 1280x720)

83 KB JPG

>>6059523
None of the kiddie shit in your post (I mean, I agree, but that honestly is a very basic, mild take) is going to land anyone on a watch list who isn't on one already.

>>6059548
>A button that kills you and your aggressor.
Pic related

>>6059646
Green anal beads are indeed the most horrifying of weapons. Dumb movie. It was great.

>>6058907

He continued your training that day like nothing had even happened.

This time some of you were broken down into smaller groups of just ten people each, while others were trained in one big class.
You weren't told what the difference was, but if was pretty obvious to you.

Everyone in the larger group either couldn't aim or had a bad attitude, while everyone in the ten-man groups scored higher.

Likewise, everyone in the larger group was being trained on break-action shotguns or phasers, while the ten-man groups were being trained on pump-action shotguns and rifles.
That day, you shot a lot more than one or two bullets.

The administrator taught a lot of you personally that day, and he was assisted mainly by three others of his kind.
The Caithan, the Jek'na, the Kelbhund and, you think he was a Grey, but... you've never seen one before. Anyways, none of them were anywhere to be found this time.

You were ordered to keep all of your shots within a small circle, and any shots outside of that circle were deducted from your score at the end of the day.

You were given five bullets at a time, and ten minutes to use them.
After each shot, you were supposed to stand there and reflect on why you did or didn't manage to hit the target.

...Isn't that obvious? It's because you have no experience using these weapons.

You started to wonder if they were simply dragging the training out. Giving you so few bullets... is it because they don't have very many?
This station was supposed to be dead already, so it's no surprise if they don't have the resources to make weapons like this.

Nevertheless, you did as you were told and took time after each shot to consider how you could have done it better.

A lot of it is just how unsteady your hands are.
The rifle is long and heavy, so it's hard to hold steady when you're gripping it with both hands.

You tried your best to relax your muscles while holding the rifle, and that kept your hands from shaking so much.
The next shot hit closer to the center than before.

Next, you looked at how the Administrator stands when he holds his rifle.

He doesn't hold it like you'd been doing.
His body is twisted to the side, and rather than holding his rifle out and away from himself, he keeps it close to his chest.

You tried it, and that stance actually made your rifle feel a little lighter in your hands.

Your next shot was a little better than the last one.

Like that, you kept looking for ways to shoot a little better with each shot, and by the time you'd spent your ten bullets, you could hit the target every time.
The administrator pulled your target paper and looked it over with a smile. He slapped you on the shoulder and told you that you'd done well.

You don't really want to feel happy about that. This guy just enslaved you, and he's going to use you for who knows what... but at least, if you're doing well, you won't be turned into plant food.

Actually, it turned out to be just the opposite.

"...What is this?"

>>6059862
Let's go Ronnie boy, make us proud!

Alright... so now the story branches back right?

>>6059862
"This my wet-behind-the-ears jarhead is the best grouping of shots I've seen from anyone born in space. Son, I'm proud"

>>6060086
Not yet, i still haven't introduced Garglon. I think you'll like him

>>6060174
Does he gargle?

>>6060174
ooooh alright

>>6060186
Does he spit or swallow?

>>6059862

You asked this question out of genuine disbelief more than anything.

The people around you all got one of a few things for dinner, depending on how well they scored.
Those who scored high were given "macaroni hamburger helper", which was dough noodles coated in some kind of savory sauce, with meat mixed in.

The smell of that was pretty amazing, and just remembering it makes you want some.

Those with average scores were given "spaghetti", which was again, a type of dough noodle, although a different one. This time with a kind of sweet and sour sauce.
It had a little bit of meat in it, but not nearly as much as the hamburger helper. It still smelled really good, though. They also had slices of bread that had been coated in oil and toasted.

And those that scored poorly, well, they were given "nutrient paste bread" and a light noodle soup.
Apparently it's exactly what it sounds like. A type of bread made by mixing nutrient paste with grain flour, and baking it.

Even that is still more than you expected, which would have been bowls of wet nutrient paste slop, or just dry nutrient bars.

But what you were given was something else entirely.

"That's your reward for being in the top ten. Enjoy it, big guy."

You look down at your plate.
In front of you was a gigantic slab of meat that smelled of smoke and fire.

It was slathered in a thick brown sauce and topped with sweet-smelling translucent vegetables. The whole thing must have been at least two pounds.
You were also given a second plate of flame-roasted vegetables, and a tall mug of... fruit juice? Or something similar, in place of water.

The smell was intoxicating, but you were more nervous than hungry.

You weren't separated based on how well you'd scored, so everyone was just eating together.
To you left was a man who scored poorly, stuck eating bread and soup. To your right was Kazzek, who scored on the upper-end of average, stuck eating noodles.

But even the men who had hamburger helper were all staring at you with jealousy. Those too far away to see your plate clearly still stuck their heads up to try and get a look.

"Hey, Ron..." Kazzek says, jabbing you in the side quietly. "That's a huge slab of meat, can't you slip me a slice or two?"

Oh, now he wants to call you Ron, huh.

You watch the others around you whispering to eachother.
You're not sure what to do. You could eat it all yourself, which might piss people off... or you could give some of it away, but there's not enough for everyone...

Which'll piss off whoever doesn't get a bite.

Or maybe... well, you could just swap your plate with Kazzek?
But, to be honest... you don't want to give up this steak, either. It's real meat. You can see the juices flowing out of it. Your mouth is watering from the smell.

>>6060632

>Swap your plate with Kazzek. It's painful, but at least it won't be your problem anymore.
>Pick a few people to dole out some of the steak to. You can easily tell who's the most skilled here by who's eating what...
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.
>Write-In?

>>6060634
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.
If you're getting haters, you're doing something right Ronnie.

>>6060634
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.
steamk

>>6060634
>Pick a few people to dole out some of the steak to. You can easily tell who's the most skilled here by who's eating what...

Ronnie's gonna need someone to watch his back, might as well bribe em with steak

>>6060634
>Pick a few people to dole out some of the steak to. You can easily tell who's the most skilled here by who's eating what...
homies get slices of steak and kazzek definitely isn't a homie

>>6060634
>>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.

>>6060634
>>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.

Meritocracy above all

>>6060634
>>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.

>>6060634
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.
>Explain to the others, in clear terms, that the distribution of food is practically an order from the Administrator. Subverting the Administrator's orders will just result in everyone getting shocked at best.
Might minimize the rep loss.

>>6060634
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.

>>6060634
>You're not giving anything up. You're not sure how exactly, but you earned this meat, and it all belongs to you. Even if it might earn you some enemies.

>>6060634
>Pick a few people to dole out some of the steak to. You can easily tell who's the most skilled here by who's eating what...

>>6060632

Looking around you at all the others drooling with hunger and jealousy, you made your decision.
Kazzek smiled as you cut off a big hunk of meat, expecting you to drop it onto his plate...

But you shoved it into your own mouth instead.

The smile is wiped right off his face as he watched you chew the surprisingly undercooked slab of meat, it's bloody juices gushing into your mouth in a torrent of flavor.

"Psht, prick." He cussed, turning back to his own plate.

It took you a while to cut the steak up and eat it, and by the time you were halfway through you found yourself completely full.
With your stomach bulging out and a bunch of food left on your plate, you leaned back in your chair and sighed out in satisfaction.

You were getting sleepy...

But not too sleepy to notice somebody reaching over to try and slide your leftovers towards themselves.
You immediately grabbed your steak knife and stabbed him in the hand without thinking.

It went straight through and pinned his hand to the table.

"Oh, shit." You cussed under your breath, expecting a shock at any moment.

But a shock didn't come.

You quickly checked the test function on your collar, and it beeped at you.
That's good. You were sure you charged it, but if you somehow forgot and it ended up running out... you'd be dead meat.

"What the hell, Ronnie?! What'd you do that for!" The man across from you yelled as he tried to pull the knife out of the other guy's hand.

"...I don't remember giving it away, so what makes you think you can take it from me?" You asked.

"You can't even eat it all!" He retorted.

"I said it's mine!" You yelled back.

At this point most people had started eating and were focused on their own food, but now all eyes were back on you.

"It's mine, and i'll slit you open if you try to take it from me." You inform him, calmly.

Both men are slightly taken aback, and say nothing more.
They move off to find a medkit for his hand, while you take your plate back to your tent and hide inside with it.

You end up falling asleep curled around your food, only to wake up later that night just to eat some more of it.
Without a steak knife, you end up having to rip at it with your teeth like some kind of wild animal. And it's tougher now that it's been sitting out, too.

It's still one of the most delicious things you've ever eaten, so you don't care at all.

...

The next morning, you still had a solid quarter of it left, plus some vegetables.
You ate all of it in your tent before leaving for to get breakfast with the others, since you didn't want to have to fight over it again.

At the table, the guy you stabbed last night kept staring at you, like he was trying to drill holes into the side of your head.

You ignored him and nibbled at your pancakes.
That's what everyone got for breakfast that day. Fluffy bread made from nutrient paste... but drizzled with some kind of sweet, golden syrup. They called it honey.

It was good, but you weren't hungry at all.

Oh no we are turning him human

>>6061200
So this guy is front line material, the type of guy that holds on to live grenades

>>6061200
I'm liking this guy more and more.
Like sure stabbing the dude was a little much imo, but fair. The guy should had asked nicely if he wanted a piece, not demand it. Fuck you.
Uh, the alien, not you Cochrane. You're cool. 10/10 would suck your cock 100% homo.

>>6061475
gay

>>6061475
There is no way to get a more visceral and animal reaction out of something than suddenly grabbing at their food.

>>6061477
Damn right my man.

>>6061475
This post smells like Fadayo

Anyways, it was mostly on instinct.
The meat was so delicious, he straight up went feral over it without realizing.

File: 1586386498008.jpg (157 KB, 833x925)

157 KB JPG

>>6061526
Honestly? An understandable reaction. When you're an omnivore, carnivore, or herbivore that's part opportunistic carnivore then, and you gotta settle for space china diarrhea food then I too would stab a bitch that tried to steal the tastiest thing I've ever had in my entire life.

Unrelated note but how wide and breedable are Ronnie's hips?

File: g32230.png (53 KB, 1594x500)

53 KB PNG

I propose we hand out stickers. Seriously.
Some nice vinyl decals for their armor after they finish basic training would be a great way to distinguish shitters from shooters at a glance. I even have some rough designs drafted up if we pursue the idea.

File: a3e.jpg (14 KB, 320x240)

14 KB JPG

>>6061526
Wrong, nigga, because that'd be ME.

>>6061534
>>6061599
Gay V Gay, homos under fire. Now on Pay Per View for only $0.35.

>>6061583
might as well give them proper military ranks, because splitting them like this will just make most of them elitist assholes instead of a coherent unit

>>6061200

After breakfast, it was more training again.

After firing twenty rounds, twice as many as the others, you were all sat down and taught about the bugs you'll be killing.
It was a class that made you understand why exactly you were being trained on weapons like rifles and shotguns, but before that, the Administrator pulled you aside.

You were worried that you'd be in some kind of trouble for what you said or did the night before, but that wasn't the case.

"Hey, kid." He greeted, having pulled you aside. "You doing good? What was your name again... Ron? Ronnie? Anyways."

Nonchalantly, he pulled something out of his pocket and placed it in your hand.

"You're doing good, so use that to keep yourself safe. I don't mind if you threaten them a little, just don't maim anyone, alright?"

Once again, he pats you twice on the shoulder and walks off, leaving you standing there, confused.

Looking over what he gave you, it's made of a strange material.
It seems like high quality faux wood, but it's got a nicer texture than that.

The words "Winchester" are carved into the upper portion, which is made of some kind of hard steel.

After a little fiddling, you tugged on it and realized that it's a folding knife.
It's heavy, with a thick blade... but it's razor sharp. You tried to feel the edge and ended up cutting your finger without realizing it at first.

...Why would he personally give you a knife? You couldn't understand it at the time.

Taking your seat in the open classroom, you watch as images are displayed on a large white sheet, using some kind of device you've never seen before.
He goes over the size of the bugs, how fast they are, how they're poisonous, have sharp mandibles, how they can fly, and what they do to the people they attack.

It's like a nightmare. Every word he said made you want to piss yourself, and you weren't the only one.
Some of the men around you have just about broken down, or started sweating heavily just at the thought of facing these things down.

You're sure if you weren't all collared, some of you would have tried to run.

That's when the administrator began pulling something out of a crate.

"...And that's why, you'll all be wearing this." He declared, showing you all a plate of metal with straps dangling off it.

"...What is it?" Someone asked.

"Congrats, you just volunteered to show everyone! Get your ass up here."

The man who spoke up grumbles, but gets up and walks to the front of the class.
There, the administrator picks out a particular piece of metal from the crate and starts strapping it onto him.

"So it's armor?" The man asks.

At that, the administrator suddenly pulls an enormous knife from his boot and slashes at the man.
Sparks fly from his chestpiece, and the knife leaves a scar across it... but it doesn't penetrate.

The man, however, falls on his ass and nearly pisses himself.

"H-Holy shit! What-?!"

"Not just any armor! It's plasteel alloy plated in America's finest AR-500!"

>>6061875
who is this mfdk...

>>6061963
Could be anyone. Hold onto your meat, man.

>>6061875
Fighting against bugs, I'm imagining something resembling medieval plate armor on top of a gambeson instead of the sparse coverage of a modern plate carrier. Or maybe riot gear if we're keeping with a theme

>>6062175
What you want is chainmail. Its lightweight, can protect all the body and you can layer it on top or under other armor

>>6062196
Shark suit

>>6062202
Even better

>>6062196
Chainmail is most certainly not light weight.

File: drcheck'em.gif (2.34 MB, 216x173)

2.34 MB GIF

>>6062222
Yeah but SPACE chain mail
Also pic related

>>6062224
Yeah space chain mail, but my rebuttal? Space plate should be just as reduced by the way methods. And plate has the added benefit that you can't have someone spit through it.

File: file.png (399 KB, 474x474)

399 KB PNG

>>6062227
It was a joke reply sorry.
I agree that chainmail is not the way to go. Not even thinking about weight, I trust it would stop stabs well but what about the force behind it? Our alien indentured workers would be crippled anyway. I have no idea what a good anti-stab armor looks ike sadly. And another thing is that every alien is different. How do we account to things like four arms?

A helmet, a torso and back plate, arms & forearms, groin and thigh?
If these are insects, they won't have the same predatory insticts as carnivores (go for the head and neck) in fact, they probably don't bother to kill the prey before consuming it like bears do

>>6062175
There's some merit here, considering alien biology. Remember that many species can die from extreme pain, so recovering from limb loss isn't a common thing. What about plate mail made from ballistic plastic or plastics used in firearm construction.

That or we go light and fast with a chest piece and helmet more to remedy friendy fire incidents and something like slashpro pants and turtleneck with built-in kneepads. Thow on some boots and gloves, and your good.

Maybe offer the aliens a choice on which armor they'll wear.

>>6061875

"Honestly," He continued. "if i sent you out there as is you'd probably get ripped to shreds. But don't worry, we take care of our boys."

The administrator grabbed the fallen man by the neck of his armor and drags him up to his feet, then stabbed at him, three or four times.
Each stab was precisely aimed at a joint or vital organ, and it happened so quick that, if it were happening to you, there would have been nothing you could have done.

"See that? Even the joints and open areas are padded with... well, it ain't kevlar, i dunno what the fuck it is. But it's good shit, i promise. See! He ain't bleeding or nothing."

He shakes the man around to display that he is in fact, not bleeding... before dropping him to the ground.

"Now, it's all rough measurements, but every piece here is fitted specifically for somebody, so it aught to be fine. I'm gonna say a name, and then you come up and get your armor."

They even custom-fitted the armor? How? Nobody ever came to take your measurements.

But, when your name is called and you come to take your armor, you find that it is in fact perfectly fitted to your body.
Almost too well. It even accounts for the slight tweak in your arm, where you'd broken it years ago and couldn't get it healed at a hospital.

The inside of the armor is surprisingly soft, covered in a fabric that has a delicate sheen to it, with plenty of padding beneath that.
You don't know what AR-500 or Kevlar are, but you know what plasteel is. That's the stuff the Federation uses as armor for it's battleships.

You can't print the stuff on a nanofab due to DRM, but you'll sometimes see people salvage the stuff off old wrecks.
Something about how it's made means you can't weld it with a sonicator or with heat, so it had to be cut to shape and used as-is.

This armor doesn't look like something made that way, though. All of it's custom, so it had to be printed.
Does this administrator have ties to the federation? You started to wonder.

He could be a federation hunter. You've heard tales of men who were more steel than blood, who moved with strength and speed unbefitting of a mortal man.

Just fairy tales, though. Nobody you know has ever come across one.
Although, you guess if they did, they wouldn't have lived to talk about it. They don't send hunters after just anyone.

Not that it matters much now. You've already been captured.

You opt to wear your armor immediately, since you never know when someone's going to try and stab you in the back.
And as you've seen, this stuff is pretty damned stab-proof.

The joints are a little stiff, though. Must need breaking in.

"Everybody got their shit?" The administrator asks, before moving on without waiting for a reply. "Good! Now keep up with it. Your ID is stamped on every bit of it, so we'll know who's lost what."

"...What happens if we lose something?" Someone asks.

"Then i'll make you run laps around the station until you shit yourself. And no dinner." He replies succinctly.

>>6062587
>Ronnie broke a bone and healed it the natural way
>Without dying of shock
Is his species from a Deathworld?

>>6062587
>Then i'll make you run laps around the station until you shit yourself
eh
> And no dinner
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!

>>6062645
It would explain why he's such a hotshot, and in reality pretty damn good.

>>6062742
He has potential, I'll give him that. If he can hang during the bug hunts, I would definitely consider scheduling some more specialized training for him. Stuff like Hand-to-Hand, CQB, demolitions, stealth recon, EVA, etc...
If nothing else, seeing how far he and his peers can go would be invaluable if we decide to train more aliens in the future.

>>6062645

Nope.

Not anywhere most species would want to live, but by no means a death world.
He managed his pain using the drugs available to a bunch of pirates, and managed to get lucky with basic first-aid.

Still, the bones didn't quite heal right because pirates aren't doctors, so his arm is a little crooked.

File: https___cdn.cnn.com_cnnne(...).jpg (135 KB, 1200x675)

135 KB JPG

>>6062763
>Still, the bones didn't quite heal right because pirates aren't doctors, so his arm is a little crooked.
Unfortunate, but not stifling. Pic related.

>>6062756
if (but ideally when) all of them pay their debt to us, i'd like to properly hire the pirates as the station's police/military. by then they'll have a ton of training and will know how we work. its a win-win situation

>>6063039
>pay their debt to us
huh?

>>6063379
They wont be our prisoners forever

>>6063384
¿¿¿¿????

>>6063379
They tried to starve our people out so they could loot the place, remember?

>>6063480
What eludes me is the concept of being freed

>>6063481
Well, we can't just keep them on a leash forever, and killing them after they do good work for us seems kinda immoral (and out of character).
Besides, these guys have a lot less of an issue with being enslaved than we would, so the perceived threat of retaliation once they're freed is low.
Anyways, we're gonna need more experienced and capable hands sooner rather than later. Might as well give the people we already trained a shot.

>>6062587

Several other men also wore their armor, while others only put on a few pieces or kept it aside.

The administrator watched silently with his arms crossed, looking around the room as this went on, only to order for everyone to put their armor on at the end.
You think you understand why, though. He's watching all of you through your collars, and probably using that to decide who's useful to him or not.

Was it good that you chose to wear your armor? Probably, considering he ordered it on at the end.
That's all relative though, because his next order is for all of you to start running.

And this armor, although it's definitely very sturdy, it's also made of solid metal... and it's heavy.

The administrator removed his shirt and jacket, revealing the same jet-black bodysuit underneath that the Caithan woman was wearing.
You thought she was a monster, but this guy makes her look like a joke. You could grind meat on his abdomen.

To your surprise, not only did he begin running circles around the entire station with you, he actually lead the whole pack.

And unlike a four-arms or a chondrite, his bulky muscles don't seem to have reduced his stamina whatsoever.
He sweats like a fountain as he runs, with steam rolling off his body every time the group stops to take a breath, but he never seems out of breath.

The first of you dropped out after half an hour. Some were simply out of shape, others were species with naturally low stamina...

After an hour, just half the group remained. You were also completely exhausted at this point, but you refused to stop.
Because if you did, you didn't know what might happen to you in the end. All of this is some kind of test, you're sure of it, and your life may well be on the line.

After two hours, just three men are left.

Malix, the man who was taken from your cell at the start of all this, Wort, a white, hairy beast of a man whose species you don't know, and yourself.
Although Malix and yourself both look like you're about to die of exhaustion, Wort and the Administrator don't seem bothered at all.

What's stranger is that, as far as you can tell, Wort is barely sweating.

You must have been on your sixth lap around the station at that point, although you'd completely lost count at some point because your brain didn't work so good no more.
Your chest was on fire, your vision was swimming, and you felt like you were drowning in your own lungs... but finally, you made it back to the starting point.

Some of the men who dropped out hadn't made it back yet, but those who had were all collapsed on the ground or passed out in the seats where you took your "class".

The administrator finally stopped running. He put his hands on his hips, heaved out a single sigh and said, "Alright, i reckon that's good enough.".

You collapsed on the spot, together with Malix.
Wort, an apparent mute, seemed worried and offered the two of you his big, hairless hand.

You didn't have the strength left to reach up and grab it.

>>6063501
Good effort Ronnie. Now somebody get this young man a water bucket and a salt tablet.

>>6063501
Good work people. I will get my asthma treated/under control and work out alongside you I swear

>>6063501
Actually now I have to ask, just how much running did they actually do? Miles, Kilometers, whatever.

>>6063568

A mile in the first ten minutes, then another in the next twenty after David noticed people starting to get exhausted too quickly.
The last three ran a total of about eight miles, give or take. It wasn't a straight path, nor did he take the exact same route each lap.

It was more of a jog for David, but even taking regular short breaks, the others just didn't have the stamina to keep it up.
Think of them like really slow cheetahs. Not only do they exhaust themselves quickly, they also overheat without much (or any) ability to sweat.

Those that lasted the longest were all species who could sweat.

>>6063576
>It was more of a jog for David, but even taking regular short breaks, the others just didn't have the stamina to keep it up.
Regular conditioning and gene therapy really are a match made in Heaven I guess.
>Not only do they exhaust themselves quickly, they also overheat without much (or any) ability to sweat.
>Those that lasted the longest were all species who could sweat.
Huh. Now I'm not saying we do this for our current batch of slaves, but I wonder if wouldn't be possible to give non-sweating species the ability to do so with gene implantation in the future.

>>6063581
It's very much possible, yes.

>>6063585
Sick.
Obviously we'd have to be selective with it though, as some species just ain't built to lose that much water or sodium that quickly without dying of dehydration or hyponatremia (or already have systems with comparable heat dissipation to sweating).

>>6063590
Some things are easier to manage with bionic implants, honestly.

>>6063581
Or give them suits with cooling loops and evaporators/radiators

>>6063501
Wort is hairy, but still sweats - although lightly. White. Hairless on some parts, such as his hands.
Theory: Species originates from a Desert World with primarily lightly-colored sands, with some arctic tundra zones. Water loss is minimized. Food and water supplies are scarce, so endurance is maximized for roaming. Species never adapted lactic acid buildup in muscles, as it was never beneficial to stop and rest. Probably has really good shock-absorption in limbs to prevent damage during use. Hair is there to prevent radiation damage and possibly to trap moisture in the fur for longer periods to provide a slower but lengthier cooling effect. If theory is correct, then he probably bathes with dust instead of water to inhibit fungal growth.

File: goldbond.png (3.74 MB, 3000x3000)

3.74 MB PNG

>>6063613
So he just dowses himself in Gold Bond and shake off the excess? God I wish it were that easy to bathe.

>>6063625
>>6063613
Like a chinchilla.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYIdmpp69MY

>>6063501

You laid there on the ground, verging on passing out for at least a few minutes before the administrator brought out a big orange jug with a spout on it.
This jug was full of something called "Gator Aid" which, to your understanding, is just water with a bunch of salt and sugar in it.

It was sweet, sour and salty, for sure, but it practically brought you back to life.
You're not sure how that works, but it does.

Your group was told to sit and rest for a while, while the administrator wandered off to do gods know what.

Once you'd gotten enough energy back to think conscious thoughts again, you noticed others groups were also being run around like yours was.
One was led by the Caithan, while two others were being run by a human man and woman.

The second male human however, was nowhere to be seen.

You'd seen him, the short one, wearing a mask over his face when he was teaching earlier.
Maybe he's injured, and his lungs don't work properly?

You don't know. You don't know anything about what's going on, and it's making you more and more nervous over time.

...

About an hour and a half later, the administrator returned, and he appeared to be looking over some charts on his holopad.
He looked around at the people in your group, and started calling out names.

"...Malix, Alteer, Zeff, Kazzek and Ronnie. You'll be part of the 20th. Group up and i'll engrave your patches." He ordered.

You, along with eight other men, lined up shoulder to shoulder as the Administrator applied some sort of logo to your shoulder armor using an automatic handheld laser.
The design was some kind of skull, crossed from behind with a shotgun and a rifle. Underneath was the text "20th Pirate Raiders" and at the top was scribed "Xebric Station".

It looked oddly official, as if you were actually part of some organized group and not just a bunch of random assholes.

"Congratulations." The administrator announced. "You have "passed" the absolute basic of basics training. In one or two days we're sending your asses out on a bug hunt. Any questions?'

...There weren't any.
Rather, everyone kept their heads down, and just kind of looked depressed.

All except for Malix, who did eventually speak up.

"What about the equipment we talked about?' He asked.

"It should be ready by this evening. We'll distribute it on the day of." The administrator replied.

"Alright, that's good. But uh, there's one more thing me and my boys were talking about. I know this is kind of last second, but..."

>>6063987

The administrator rolls his eyes and sighs.

"Just hurry the fuck up and say it, would you? Do you think i'm not fuckin' busy already?'

"Right! Sorry. Er, sir. Well uh, the thing is, we were kind of hoping we could get one of those robots attached to each squad. Droids, i think you called them?"

"Ah, those. They're not robots, they're being piloted remotely by organics." The administrator clarifies.

"Really?' Malix questions, raising a brow.

"Yes, really. Why do you want them, though?"

"...To reduce casualties, honestly. These guys are still basically untrained, and you just know this whole thing's gonna be a shitshow. If we had at least one disposable man in each group..."

"Ah, yeah. I gotcha. Alright, i think we can manage that, but we'll have to rearrange the squads again."

"Sorry, Captain." Malix apologizes.

"Don't worry about it."

>Keep your head down like the rest, you don't need to draw any more attention to yourself.
>Speak up and ask some questions before the bug-squashing mission. (Write-Ins Only)
>Write-In?

>>6063988
Does Ronnie know even the first thing about these bugs? Ask for some specifics about the bugs we're hunting.

>>6064000

You literally just attended a class where you learned all about them.

>>6063988
>Request some healthy doses of combat stimulants for the squads. Chances are, a lot of you are gonna die - you know what those bugs can do. Might as well give back as good as you get.
I expect that ronnie has had more than his fair share of experience with combat stims. Maybe not personally, but pirates in general seem like the type to abuse them regularly. And hey, about now is when the withdrawal should kick in for some of 'em...

>>6064002
Hey quick question, does Ronnie know even the first thing about these bugs?

>>6063988
>Request some healthy doses of combat stimulants for the squads. Chances are, a lot of you are gonna die - you know what those bugs can do. Might as well give back as good as you get.
It's a good idea, so I support it.

>>6064384
+1
Coke and meth to make even the nazis say that we went overboard

>>6064397
I'm fairly certain that if David agrees to the request, it'd probably be a modified version of the synthesized adrenaline cocktail Sanig uses in his exosuit.

>>6063988

Things looked like they were winding down and the administrator was about to leave, when you spoke up and asked a question of your own.

"...Instructor, do you think it would be possible to distribute some combat stimulants for this mission?"

...Honestly, you had no idea if he'd accept your request or throw you back into jail for asking.
But after seeing the helmet camera footage from the administrator's own encounters with those bugs, you're certain people are going to die during this.

Pirates are no strangers to using stims. You've even used them yourself a few times before big raids, or when fighting other pirate groups.
They're often addictive and it's easy to overdose on them if you aren't careful, but the advantage they bring in combat is massive.

You've seen a man high on stims get shot in the chest with plasma weapons and keep charging forwards, because he couldn't even feel it.

He died from his injuries after that fight, but you still won it in the end.
You might have died too if he hadn't gone nuts like like, gods bless him.

"What for?" The administrator asked, raising a brow.

"...So we can go out fighting, at least." You reply.

The administrator whispers back and forth with Malix a few times, who shrugs at him.

"Alright Ronnie, you just volunteered for dosage testing. If you survive, we'll have a mix available for you."

To your surprise, he actually agreed.
But wait, dosage testing? What did he mean by that?

"Wha-" You started, only to be immediately shocked and brought to your knees.

"Lab rats don't get to talk back. Malix, grab him. We need to get the equipment ready by tomorrow."

"Yes, Captain..."

Malix grabbed your arm and hefted you back up to your feet.
Suddenly, you were forced to come along with the Administrator, back to his ship.

Still exhausted from the run and having been shocked, you were stuffed into the back seat of a hovercar, which took you down to the main level of the station.
You don't know why, but the administrator had the window down with his arm hanging out of the car, so you felt the rapid temperature change as the outside air blew through.

It's absolutely freezing below the top floor. You don't know why that is, but it doesn't seem to bother that man much.

In the same car with you was a female human, and the Caithan instructor.
The female human rarely spoke, but the Administrator and the Caithan woman seemed very familiar with eachother.

You didn't dare to raise your voice again after getting shocked for it once. There was nowhere for you to but in, anyhow.

On the way back, they spoke mainly about the day's 'training' and equipment issues.
Apparently the Caithan had a few men in her group who did quite well on their run, too. She didn't refer to them by name, however.

You wondered who they were, since there might be some guys from your ship there.

But it was the second half of their conversation that interested you more. You could have called it internal politics, you guess.

>>6064742
Fuckin' Ronnie gonna get drugs with sideeffect of an erection that lasts for years so he'll really be Fuckin' Ronnie for life.

>>6063581
what for, a series of tubes with water on top of places like your armpits and crotch does the same.

>>6064000
>nigga was sleeping at the back of the class again

>>6064742
So, what's in our combat stim? Sugar, a little wheat powder, vitamins- mostly b12, MCT oil, tylenol, ritalin, fish oil, cranberry extract, and just a few molecules of pcp?

>>6065322
It's just a redbull and ibuprofen.

>>6065327
Honestly, I expect the first test dose to be a placebo.

>>6064772
>a series of tubes with water on top of places like your armpits and crotch does the same.
Tell me more

>>6064742

They talked about many different things, most of which you were unaware of.
Apparently the previous administrator of the station was still alive, and the new one, David, hates him with a passion.

They talked for a time about what to do with him since he's just rotting in a prison cell, but determined it was something to put off until later, as they had more pressing issues.

You very much get the feeling that David just wants to kill him, while "Cyl" would prefer to keep him alive.

Next, they talked about their nanofabricators.
Apparently many of them around the station have been shutting down one after another due to... authentication issues?

Maybe the federation has the whole station blacklisted since it's been taken over, you're not sure why else that would happen.
Apparently the plan for that is to make use of the remaining fabricators to produce equipment for "traditional manufacturing processes", whatever that means.

And as you were coming up to the ship, the conversation suddenly switched to the dissatisfaction of the local population, who are finding it a struggle to live on the station as it is.
Apparently that's caused mainly by supply issues, both due to the lack of nanofabs and of food and energy on the station.

None of this is very surprising to you. What's honestly surprising is that the station is still functioning at all despite receiving absolutely zero dark energy or antimatter shipments.

It was honestly a shock when you first arrived and narrowly missed a shot from a long-ranged station-mount railgun.
That sort of thing isn't impossible to rig up on a dead station, but then your scouts reported back that even the main entrance was still intact.

It takes a ton of power to maintain the entry barrier of a station, since it has to be big enough for a whole ship to pass through while holding back the inner atmosphere at the same time.
Usually that's the first thing to go whenever a station is abandoned, and the depressurization always causes tons of structural damage due to the high winds and stuff... exploding.

The entry barrier's not the only thing to go when the power cuts. The gravity generators all go offline too, so stuff floats around and gets pulled through the air. That does the real damage.

You've never seen it yourself, but one of the guys on your previous crew was on a station when it happened, and he described it as pure chaos.
You almost want to see it, but you're as likely to die from floating debris as you are to get sucked out into space.

"Hey numbnuts, quit daydreaming. We're here." David yelled back at you from the middle seat.

You looked out the window to find yourself back at the spaceport, which was in remarkably good condition, but also very empty.
There was only a single ship in the port, and it was the one that almost killed you all the other day.

The air around the spaceport is particularly frigid since there's a big window out into space. That's all you were thinking about.

>>6065677

You should have been rethinking all the choices in your life that led up to that point, because that night was the worst of your life by far.

You were gently escorted up the cargo ramp and into by Malix, where you found yourself surrounded by mountains of cargo crates, all fixed to the ground with rods and netting.
Because it's a pain in the ass to remove, cargo only ever gets secured like that on ships that overwhelm their gravity generator and end up flinging stuff everywhere.

That can happen for a few reasons. Either they change direction too quickly, or the power draw from their weapons is too high and it overloads the antimatter reactor.

And the more you see of this ship, the more you suspect both of those things could be true.
It's nothing like the old scrap vessels you spend most of your time on.

The walls, or what's visible of the anyways, appear to be aluminum or titanium instead of simple iron, evidenced by the fact that they shine silvery white and lack a single spot of rust.

So you're certain this vessel didn't start out as a civilian transport like most improvised warbirds. It must have been military or something similarly high-end.
However, it's clear that it's undergone a massive amount of retrofitting, with wire conduits and pipes running everywhere, and absolutely humongous capacitors sitting around in the cargo bay.

You don't know how many lasers this thing has, but it's a lot. There's nothing else that draws that much power. This ship was made to kill.

"Hey, who turned down the gravity?" A sweaty human man asks, popping his head around the corner as you're about to exit into a hallway.

"Sorry Pickle, we got guests." David replies, pointing back to you and Malix.

"Well fuck 'em, i'm in the middle of my set. Turn that shit back up." He demands.

However, he leaves before anyone can reply.

"...Go ahead and double it. They'll live." David sighs.

The human woman with you closes her eyes as if concentrating on something, and suddenly an enormous weight presses down on you.
It takes you somewhat by surprise, simply because it's so much heavier than you expected.

Malix also groans momentarily under the strain, but you both stay standing.
Everyone else seems completely unaffected.

"Higher!" The man yells from another room.

"Goddamnit pickle, our gen doesn't have enough zones for everybody. Just add another plate and quit being lazy!"

"Fuck you!"

David ignores him.

As you're walking down the hall and enter what appears to be the medbay, you see the Pickle man through the door at the far end of the ship.
He's hefting enormous iron plates onto a metal bar, two at a time. What the hells is he doing in there?

"Ronnie, over here." David beckons, patting a steel table that doesn't look too inviting.

You slowly walk over, the weight of the gravity and your current situation oppressing you both physically and mentally.

"W-What are we doing here?" You ask.

David pushes you over onto the table.

>>6066534
Dammit Pickle. Ain't nobody wants to pick up those heavy ass weights.

>>6066534

The next few hours were a blur of highs and lows that you can't adequately describe.

You were hooked up to all kinds of machines, including a filter that scrubbed chemicals out of your blood.
David explained every little thing that he did to you as he did it.

You were pumped full of dozens of different chemicals, only some of which you can remember the names of.

Cocaine, methamphetamine, adrenaline, caffeine. You'd never felt so amazing and so close to dying at the same time.
They started with extremely tiny doses, and worked their way up until it started having an effect.

After that, they'd monitor you for ten minutes, up the dosage, wait another ten minutes... over and over again, until your heart started to give out, or you started having seizures.

Then they'd scrub your blood clean of the drug, do a "reset" of your metabolism and brain chemistry by pumping you full of some clear liquid, and start all over.
The first round of tests was to determine a fatal dose, based on your weight and metabolic rate.

Your species is a fairly common one, with plenty of medical data available, so they'll use that to translate their data roughly to other known species.
That's what you were told, anyways.

But the process left you exhausted, mentally speaking.
Although each high didn't last long before it was scrubbed, each one was both unique and overwhelmingly intense.

You experienced a whole universe of new feelings and strange understandings in a matter of hours, with no time to process it all.

And that was when they started working on the "combat mix".

Apparently these individual drugs on their own weren't good enough, even though some of them made you feel like you could have lifted a hovercar over your head.
No, they wanted to find a mix of drugs that suppressed or elevated your bodily functions to... to... fuck, you don't know.

All you remember past that point is being flooded with a mix of drugs, including things like anti-seizure meds and anti-psychotics, until you didn't even know where you were anymore.
And that led up to today, where this morning you woke up with a massive headache.

"Yo Ronnie, you good?" The Pickle-man asks, smacking you across the face to wake you up.

You groan. The overhead lights sear your eyes as you open them, and your head is absolutely pounding.
The room feels like it's spinning at a thousand miles an hour as you sit up, only realizing afterwards that your limbs are no longer bound, and you're no longer hooked up to those machines.

"What... what happened?" You groan.

The Pickle-man chuckles.

"You had a hell of a party, from what i heard. Lucky bastard, Gunny don't let us print our own nose-candy..."

"...What?" You grumble.

"Hey, get your ass up. Breakfast's ready." He replies, ignoring you and walking off rather quickly.

You stand up, finding the gravity has gone back to a normal, sane 0.3G. But you also find that your chest hurts a bit, and your mouth is unbelievably dry.

>>6066600
>Turn it higher, pickle yells
>Then he has to set them back on the rack
>Turn it lower, pickle yells
So annoying

File: Spoiler Image (1.98 MB, 1440x1080)

1.98 MB PNG

What a great episode... it actually shows Aisha's nippies in another scene! But they are not colored... the Ctarl Ctarl either have skin-colored nipples or the animators weren't so bold

File: Spoiler Image (1.9 MB, 1440x1080)

1.9 MB PNG

Her being so confident, teasing and playful is just... great

>>6066653
>But you also find that your chest hurts a bit, and your mouth is unbelievably dry.

Sounds like a mild heart attack.

>>6066767
I think the animators werent bold enough. The nipples are clearly hidden by the arms.
do you thinj she has pink or brown nipples

>>6066767
Both?
>>6067175
Very light brown base but bright pink nips

>>6067175
No no, I won't put the screenshot with nipples...

File: Spoiler Image (152 KB, 850x692)

152 KB JPG

>get off work
>check thread
>mental illness

yeah that tracks

File: th-3866167759.jpg (30 KB, 400x400)

30 KB JPG

>>6067316
But I love her...

File: image_67b709e4.jpg (69 KB, 768x432)

69 KB JPG

>>6067411
YOUR FEELINGS FOR HER ARE NOT REAL.

>>6066653

You stumble out of the medbay and into the hall, unsure of where to go.

A Kelbhund and Jek'na are standing out there, chatting while they eat.
They turn their attention to you briefly as you come into view, and point you in the right direction.

Your nose catches the scent of something delicious as you near the kitchen, but you're stopped in your tracks as the door opens, and a second human woman steps out with two plates of food.

You momentarily hope one of those is yours, but she continues on and takes them both... into the bunk room, apparently.
You catch a momentary glimpse of a very elderly-looking human lying in one of the lower beds there.

This crew is so confusing to you.

Continuing into the kitchen, you find it absolutely packed, as it clearly wasn't made to hold this many people.
All four spaces are taken up at the dining table, and another man who you recognize as one of the human instructors is also eating while standing, leaned against the counter.

David immediately notices your entrance and waves you over.

"Morning. Tough little bastard, ain't ya? Bet you feel like shit, though. Come and get you some grub." He orders, albeit in a friendly tone.

There's a fifth seat, a barstool, pulled up to the side of the table for you. It's very cramped in here.

"...What happened last night? I don't remember much..." You groan, the bright overhead lights still stinging at your eyes.

"Ah well, you know. You started to get kind of out of it after the first few hours. Don't worry though, we got all our preliminary tests done." He smiles.

"I still can't believe you agreed to drug them up like that..." The caithan complains.

"Hey, they're pirates. If they want some "performance enhancers" i'm fine with it, as long as they actually use it in combat and not just for fun."

"That stuff will wreck their organs if they take it more than a few times a month, you know." The Grey adds on.

...Yeah, you don't doubt that.

"Actually, my chest kind of hurts... am i gonna be alright?" You ask.

"Should be. You had a bunch of heart attacks during testing, but we gave you a dose of mechanites to repair the damage. You should be good in a couple of days." David replies.

You don't like how nonchalant he is about that. Heart attacks are usually fatal...
Wait, mechanites? Do they have that kind of medicine to spare on this station? That stuff's expensive...

No, it's not your problem. Actually, it's literally the opposite.

You smack your lips together. You need something to drink...

"Cotton mouth? Here." One of the human instructors offers. This one... you think his name was Red? Something like that.

The Red-man offers you his drink, which you accept.
Your face contorts as you take a sip. It's the strongest, sweetest, most sour thing you've ever tasted in your life.

"Gah, what is this?!" You cry out in shock.

"...Grape juice?" The Red-man replies, raising a brow.

Actually...
No, hold on. As the intensity fades, it's... actually kind of good.

>>6067416
I could go for some sparkling cider now. Thanks, you fuck.

>>6067416
Toss this boy a proper southern lemonade and watch him get diabetes in real time.

>>6067416
ew indirect kiss