Hey there.
Yes, you...
The one holding this book with one hand while the other hand is probably busy doing something else. Or maybe you are scrolling through this on a screen, hoping that the next swipe will reveal a glorious description of fluids and friction.
We met again.
I am Arala. You know me. I am the Private. I am the little sister. I am the one who likes to make the clak-clak sound with Ranyan until my purupin feels like it is going to explode into a million pieces of giga-giga confetti.
But right now? You are going to be disappointed.
Wait! Do not close the book! Do not click away! Listen to me for a second.
We are currently parked on Uranus, and no, I am not going to make the joke.
Ranyan already made the joke five times before we even entered the atmosphere. He said, "We are going to probe Uranus," and then he laughed like a dad at a barbecue who just burned the hotdogs but thinks he is a culinary genius.
The Xeca is quiet.
It is a weird kind of quiet. Usually, this ship sounds like a jungle. You hear Xecta screaming because Navi stole her dessert. You hear Chef yelling at Navi because she stole the dessert Chef made specifically for Xecta. You hear the Vice Captain stomping around in her high-heeled boots, sounding like an angry metronome ticking down to our inevitable doom. You hear Prof blowing things up in her lab. You hear Mommy... ah, nope. Mommy is the quiet one.
But today? Nothing.
Just the low, steady hum of the life support systems and the soft wuza-wuza of the ventilation fans circulating the air that smells like burnt candy milk.
Everyone is gone.
Vice went to the Reagalus headquarters here to report on our mission. She looked so serious when she left. She had her hair pulled back so tight I thought her eyebrows were going to merge with her hairline. She said she had to 'debrief the high command', but I know she just wants to brag about how Ranyan saved everyone again. She loves him so much it makes me want to gimu-gimu.
Chef and Navi went shopping. Can you believe it? They said they needed fresh ingredients and "%'supplies'. I think 'supplies' is code for 'new toys to use on each other', but who am I to judge? I have seen what they do in the gym.
It is suba-suba.
Prof went to visit her parents. Can you imagine Prof having parents? I bet they are robots.
Or test tubes...
I bet she walks into their house and says, "Greetings, progenitor units. My biological functions are optimal," and then they just exchange data packets instead of hugs.
And...
Mommy took Xecta to the hot springs. The famous Uranus hot springs that smell like sulfur and rich people. Xecta was so excited her tail was vibrating. She looked like a little marshmallow that was about to be dipped in chocolate.
So that leaves... us.
Just me.
And Ranyan.
We are in the observation deck. It is my favorite room on the ship because the floor is covered in thick, plush carpet that feels wixi-wixi on my bare feet, and the entire ceiling is glass. You can see everything.
And right now, 'everything' is the pale, cyan sky of Uranus, with its faint, ghostly rings cutting through the clouds like a giant hula-hoop that God dropped and forgot to pick up.
But I am not looking at the sky.
I am looking at Ranyan.
He is sitting next to me on the big, circular couch. He is wearing one of his big t-shirts that reaches down to his knees, and... well...
He is a she.
The transformation hit him hard this time. Prof said, saving the universe takes a toll on your testosterone.
It has been three days since the battle, and he is still in his female form.
And let me tell you something, dear reader.
My brother makes a very hot sister.
She... I mean, he... no, she... let's stick with Ranyan. Ranyan is currently brushing her long, black hair. It flows down her back like a river of silk. Her skin is soft. Like, really soft. I poked her arm earlier just to check, and it felt like touching a cloud. Her face is delicate, with big eyelashes that flutter when she blinks, and her lips... oh my God, her lips are pink and full and look like they taste like cotton candy.
And the smell...
Usually, Ranyan smells like musk and sweat and "I just punched an alien in the face." It has a good smell. A strong smell. A smell that makes my hama-hama tingle.
But now?
Ranyan smells like flowers. Like sweet, blooming lilies mixed with the ozone of a thunderstorm. It is intoxicating. It is confusing. It makes me want to crawl into her lap and purr like a cat.
"So," Ranyan says, breaking the silence. Her voice is higher now. Softer. It sounds like bells chiming in a breeze. "You were telling me about the drone?"
She turns to look at me, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture is so feminine, so natural, that it makes my heart do a little dogun-dogun flip.
"Right!" I say, shaking my head to clear the horny fog that is trying to settle in my brain. "The drone! So, I was in the cargo bay, right? And I saw this maintenance drone, the little round one with the three legs? And it was trying to pick up a box, but the box was too heavy. So it just kept beeping. Beep. Beep. Beep. Like it was crying. And then it fell over. It just tipped over on its side and spun around like a turtle!"
Ranyan laughs.
It is not his usual booming laugh. It is a giggle. A musical, bubbling sound that fills the room. Her eyes crinkle at the corners, and her whole face lights up.
"That sounds tragic," she says, wiping a tear from her eye. "Poor little guy. Did you help it?"
"Of course not!" I exclaim, leaning back into the cushions. "I laughed at it. It looked like a potato trying to do yoga. It was kumkuma!"
Ranyan laughs again, leaning her head back against the couch. Her throat is smooth. No Adam's apple. Just a long, elegant neck that leads down to her collarbones, which are peeking out from the neckline of her shirt.
And below that...
Okay, I am looking. I admit it. I am staring at my brother's boobs.
They are nice. They are not huge like Mommy's, which could probably smother a man to death. Or they are not small like... mine.
They are... perfect. Perky. Round. Bouncing slightly every time she laughs. I can see the outline of her nipples pressing against the fabric of the shirt.
My mouth waters.
I want to touch them.
I want to squeeze them.
I want to know if they are sensitive. I want to know if Ranyan feels the same wuz-wuz sensation when I play with them as I do when he plays with mine.
"You are staring, Arala," Ranyan says.
She is not mad. She is smiling. A teasing, knowing smile.
"I am observing," I correct her, crossing my arms over my own chest. "It is scientific. I am checking your... structural integrity."
"Is that so?" Ranyan shifts, turning her body towards me. She pulls her legs up onto the couch, tucking them under her. "And what is your diagnosis, Private?"
"You are..." I swallow hard. "You are very giga-giga."
"Thank you," she says, preening a little. She runs her hands down her own sides, tracing the curve of her waist. "It feels weird, you know? Being like this. My center of gravity is different. My emotions are different. I feel... floaty."
"Floaty is good," I say. "Floaty means you are not heavy with stress."
"Yeah." Her smile softens. She looks at me with those big, dark eyes that seem to see right into my soul. "It is nice. Just hanging out. No explosions. No screaming. No Krall trying to lay eggs in our brains."
"Just us," I whisper.
"Just us."
She reaches out and takes my hand. Her fingers are slender now, her nails neat and clean. Her palm is warm.
A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm. It goes straight to my chest, then down to my stomach, and finally settles right between my legs.
My purupin twitches.
I squeeze her hand back. I want more. I want to tackle her. I want to rip that shirt off and explore every inch of this new, temporary body. I want to find out if she tastes different. I want to find out if she makes different sounds when I lick her neck or bite her shoulder.
But I don't.
Because look at her.
She looks so peaceful. So relaxed. For the first time in months, Ranyan does not look like he is carrying the weight of the entire galaxy on his shoulders. He looks like a girl on vacation.
And I cannot ruin that.
I look at you again, reader.
I know you are frustrated. I can feel your impatience radiating off the page. You are thinking, "Come on, Arala! Jump her! It is incest! It is taboo! It is what we paid for!"
I know. I know you want the clak-clak. I know you want the detailed description of how her wetness tastes or how tight she is.
But I am sorry.
I really am.
My gusi-gusi is aching for it too. My hama-hama is practically singing an opera of need. But look at the context!
We just survived a nightmare. Ranyan almost died. Like, actually died. His heart stopped. Shorty had to pump him full of glowing magic juice just to keep him breathing.
He needs a break.
He needs to just exist without having to stick his penis.. or currently non-existent penis, into something to save the world. He needs to just be...
Like this.
So, I apologize. From the bottom of my horny little heart. There will be no sex in this chapter. There will be no fluids flying across the room. There will be no screaming orgasms that shatter the windows.
Today, we are just chilling.
Deal with it.
"What are you thinking about?" Ranyan asks, squeezing my hand.
"Steak," I lied.
"Steak?" Her eyes light up. "Oh God. Yes. Gin promised she would make Leocrash steak tonight."
"Medium rare," I add.
"With that garlic butter sauce," Ranyan groans, licking her lips. "I am so hungry. Being a girl makes me crave salt. Is that normal?"
"I don't know," I shrug. "I always crave salt. And sugar. And..."
You.
I don't say it.
"And what?"
"And... pickles," I say. "Fried pickles."
"We should tell Gin to make fried pickles," Ranyan nods solemnly. "It is a tactical necessity."
We sit there for a while, just talking about food. We talk about the Leocrash steak. If you have never had Leocrash, you are missing out. It is this six-legged buffalo thing from Neptune. The meat is red, marbled with fat that melts in your mouth, and it tastes like beef but... angrier? Spicier? It is delicious. Gin cooks it perfectly. She sears the outside until it is crispy and salty, leaving the inside pink and juicy.
Just talking about it makes my stomach grow.
"Your stomach is loud," Ranyan giggles.
"It is singing the song of its people," I reply.
Ranyan laughs again. She leans her head on my shoulder.
I freeze.
She is heavy and warm. Her hair tickles my cheek. I can smell the lilies again. I can feel the rise and fall of her chest against my arm.
This is dangerous.
My heart is beating so fast I am afraid she can feel it. My purupin is doing jumping jacks.
"You are comfy," she murmurs, closing her eyes.
"I am a tactical pillow," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"The best pillow," she agrees.
She shifts slightly, getting comfortable. Her leg brushes against mine. Her thigh is soft and warm against my jeans.
I want to slide my hand down. I want to touch her leg. I want to slip my fingers under the hem of that shirt and feel the skin of her stomach. I want to go lower. I want to see if she is wet.
Because I am wet.
I am soaking wet.
Just sitting here, holding her hand, feeling her head on my shoulder... it is turning me on more than the wildest Felt session.
Why?
Because it is intimate.
Because she trusts me enough to fall asleep on me.
Because she loves me.
Not just as a Melito. Not just as a soldier. But as a sister.
And I love him. Her. Whatever.
I love the person inside the meat suit.
"Ranyan?" I whisper.
"Hmm?" She is already drifting off.
"Do you remember the other day?" I ask. "When we were in the command center?"
"Mmm..." she mumbles. "With Vice?"
"Yeah. With Vice."
"That was... intense," she whispers. A sleepy smile plays on her lips. "You were good, Arala. You were... giga-giga."
My breath catches in my throat.
He remembers.
He remembers making me scream in front of everyone. He remembers filling me up until I couldn't think. He remembers the way I squirted until I passed out.
"You made me faint," I whisper.
"I know," she murmurs. Her voice is getting slurred with sleep. "I felt it. Your body... it just... gave up. It was... beautiful."
Beautiful.
He thinks my orgasm was beautiful. He thinks me losing consciousness from pure pleasure was beautiful.
I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I am not sad. I am just... full.
My chest feels like it is expanding. My hama-hama feels warm and glowing.
This is better than sex.
Okay, maybe not better. Sex is pretty awesome. But this? This is special. This is the stuff that keeps you going when you are staring down a horde of Krall.
Ranyan's breathing evens out. She is asleep.
I look down at her. Her mouth is slightly open. A little bit of drool is pooling on my sleeve.
She looks like an angel. A drooling, gender-swapped, alien-killing angel.
I carefully pull my arm around her, hugging her closer. I rest my chin on the top of her head.
The sky outside is darkening. The rings of Uranus are glowing with a soft, ethereal light. It is cold out there. A vacuum. Deadly and silent.
But in here?
Here, it is warm. It smells like lilies and anticipation.
I look at you one last time.
I know, I know. You wanted the smut. You wanted the explicit details. You wanted me to describe how Ranyan's new female anatomy responds to my touch. You wanted incestuous lesbian space erotica.
And believe me, I wanted to give it to you.
My hand is twitching. I am thinking about it. I am imagining it. I am pictured sliding my hand between her legs right now. I am picturing waking her up with a kiss. I am picturing us rolling around on this plush carpet, tangling our limbs together, exploring this new dynamic.
It would be hot. It would be sticky. It would be suba-suba.
But not right now.
Right now, my big brother needs a nap. And I am going to let him have it.
Because I am a good sister.
And because I know that when he wakes up... when he eats that steak... when he gets his energy back...
You better be ready for Chapter 19. Because if my purupin has anything to say about it, no one on this ship is going to be getting any sleep.
But for now?
Let the hero sleep.
I lean my head back against the couch, listening to her soft snores.
"I love you, Sis... er... Bro," I whisper into her hair. "Thank you for making me squirt."
I close my eyes.
And I wait for dinner.