Vice swallowed hard. Her face flushed a deep crimson. "Prof... that is... that is excessive."
"Efficiency is my middle name," Prof deadpanned.
I didn't wait for permission. I reached out and began unbuttoning Vice's uniform. "Come on, Vice. You need this. You are wound tighter than a snare drum."
Vice didn't resist. She lifted her arms, letting me peel the red jacket off her shoulders. "Fine. But only because I need to clear my head. This doesn't mean anything."
"Sure," I whispered, leaning in to kiss her neck. She tasted like stress and expensive perfume. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Within seconds, Vice was naked on the cot. Her body was a masterpiece of tension. Her nipples were hard, straining against the air.
The three Profs moved in like a pack of wolves.
"Experiment 685," the original Prof said, climbing onto the bed behind Vice. "Testing the elasticity of the Vice Captain's resolve."
One clone positioned herself at Vice's head. The other clone took the legs.
"Open up," the clone at the head said. She didn't ask. She just presented her Irita to Vice's lips.
Vice opened her mouth, her eyes fluttering shut as she took the head inside.
"God..." Vice moaned around the flesh.
I watched, mesmerized. The sight of Vice, usually so composed, being used by three versions of our resident genius was... inspiring.
I moved between Vice's legs. Her pussy was already soaking wet.
"See?" I teased, running my thumb over her clit. "Your body knows what it wants. Even if your brain is too stubborn to admit it."
Vice whimpered, her hips bucking against my hand.
The original Prof, positioned behind Vice, didn't waste time. She lined her Irita up with Vice's entrance and pushed.
"Ah!" Vice cried out, her mouth full of the clone.
"Relax," Prof whispered in her ear. "Let me analyze your internal structure."
The clone holding Vice's legs spread them wider, making room for me. I didn't have a penis, but I had a tongue. And I knew how to use it.
I buried my face in Vice's crotch.
It was chaos.
Vice was being penetrated from behind, her mouth was full, and I was eating her out. The sounds filling the small room were obscene. Wet slaps. Moans. The squeak of the cot springs protesting the weight of five people.
"Does Capt do it like this?" I asked against her wet folds, vibrating my lips.
"No..." Vice gasped, her hands gripping the sheets. "He is... he is different... he fills me up differently..."
"Is that a complaint?" Prof asked, thrusting harder. Her clones were mirroring her intensity.
"No!" Vice sobbed. "Just... fuck! Prof! You are hitting the spot!"
"Of course I am," Prof said, calm as ever. "I calculated the trajectory."
I slid a finger inside her, right next to Prof's Irita. It was tight. So wonderfully tight.
"You know," I said, looking up at Vice's flushed face. "We are all just substitutes, aren't we? You are closing your eyes and pretending Prof is him."
Vice shook her head frantically, causing the clone in her mouth to slide out for a second. "Shut up, Gin! Shut up!"
"Who isn't addicted to him?" Prof mused, her thrusts becoming rhythmic and snappy. "His genetic material is potent. It rewires us. I find myself thinking about his penis when I am calibrating the engine manifold. It is illogical. Yet, unavoidable."
"He is... he is special," Vice choked out. She took the clone back into her mouth deep.
I worked my tongue faster, swirling around her clit. I could feel her getting close. Her muscles were clamping down on my finger.
"That's it," I encouraged. "Let go, Vice. Squirt for us. Pretend I am Capt eating you out."
"Gin...!" Vice screamed. Her body arched off the mattress.
Prof didn't stop. She drove into Vice with scientific precision, hitting the exact spot needed to push her over the edge.
"Coming! I am coming!" Vice wailed.
And then she exploded.
It wasn't a trickle. It was a geyser.
I took a face full of it. It was warm and sweet. I drank what I could, letting the rest soak into the sheets.
Vice convulsed, her body shaking violently. The clones held her down, keeping her stable while Prof rode out the aftershocks.
Slowly, the room quieted down.
Prof pulled out with a squelch. The clones shimmered and vanished, leaving just the original Prof, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed.
Vice lay there, panting, her limbs sprawled out like a starfish.
"I hate you all," she whispered, but she was smiling. A tiny, exhausted smile.
"You love us," I said, wiping my face with a towel I grabbed from the floor. "We are the best stress ball you have ever had."
Vice turned her head to look at Prof. "He is going to be the death of me, Prof. I swear. Every time he looks at me... I feel like my heart is going to explode."
Prof walked back to her desk and picked up her clipboard. "That is technically impossible, Vice. Unless he implants a thermal detonator in your chest cavity. Which, knowing Capt, he might do by accident."
Vice laughed. It was a genuine sound. "He fits perfectly inside me. It is like... like a puzzle piece."
"We know," Prof said, jotting down notes. "He fits perfectly inside all of us. That is the design."
"No," Vice whispered, closing her eyes. "With me... it is different. I wish... I wish I could just be his. Without the mission. Without the war."
I stood up, my legs feeling a little wobbly. "Careful, Vice. You are starting to sound like a wife."
Vice didn't answer. She was already drifting off to sleep.
I looked at Prof. She gave me a small nod.
"I will make coffee," I said, grabbing my clothes. "I have a feeling we are going to need it before the next shift starts."
Prof hummed in agreement, turning back to her spinning vials of Capt's sperm.
I looked back at Vice one last time. She looked peaceful.
Poor girl. She really thinks she has a choice in the matter. We are all just moths, and Ragia... Ragia is the biggest, dumbest, hottest lamp in the universe.
And we are all going to burn.
Happily...