Evil Aliens: Journey of the BCNS Suppository Splinters
Copyright© 2025 by MA7
Chapter 10
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 10 - A story where hard physics K3 god tech meets morally bankrupt idiots who wield said technology. Every scientific detail is triple checked for accuracy, hard science meets dick jokes and juvenile insanity.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Humor Science Fiction
Five months later, the time dilation was now functionally indistinguishable from faster-than-light travel from the ship’s own frame of reference.
In the last 5 months of onboard time they had travelled roughly 3 light years, currently going about 0.994c (99.4 percent of light speed), and every single second of 1 G acceleration they were getting even faster.
The rest of the (non-relativistic) universe was under the same passage of time as it usually was, but onboard the ship time was starting to slow down dramatically. This was how you could travel millions of light years in a single lifetime: you went so fast that time stretched, making the journey effectively FTL from your reference frame.
From now onwards the light years of distance would shoot past in an ever faster blur until the ship slowed down.
The prow sensors were observing the light of the universe ahead getting bluer and bluer from relativistic blue-shift, the aft sensors showed a steadily redder universe from red-shift. It was a beautiful sight.
The visible stars were few these days, they weren’t gone, just enveloped in Dyson swarms and similar megastructures. The infrared waste heat of these structures was still immense, just at a lower spectrum below the visible wavelengths. The universe was young in astronomical terms but ancient in anthropogenic terms, it was almost 4 billion years since the humans had left their own planet, even longer since the Bo-Cran first explored the stars. The Tamni were similar, and the other civilisation expansion bubbles.
The old unclaimed virgin stars were few in this epoch, to expand you usually had to kill others and take their stars, space conquest was a zero sum game. The universe was now a selection of colonisation spheres billions of light years in diameter, each sphere centred around an original home planet that spawned one of the rare technological races.
The fleet was a mere seventy million light years from the Bo-Cran/Human frontier, spitting distance by the standards of these immense civilisations. The two sides had been at war for hundreds of millions of years, entire galaxy clusters had changed hands in this war over space.
The humans had wanted treaties and peace, they had offered concessions and armistice countless times. The Bo-Cran Empire had politely asked the human ambassadors and diplomats to go fuck a donkey.
This fleet of millions of ships was not the only fleet the Bo-Cran Empire was sending to the Abell 0114 galaxy cluster near the middle of the Pisces-Cetus Supercluster, this fleet was a single digit in a number of embarking fleets so vast that a single fleet of millions of ships was the equivalent of a rounding error in the strategic calculations.
If this fleet survived to actually capture a single star from the humans they would have copper and wealth beyond their wildest dreams. If they didn’t ... well shit happens.
Onboard the ship, inside one of the crew bunk rooms, underneath the sheets of one bed was a very round lump being spooned from behind by a muscular man, both figures sleeping peacefully. Poking out of the sheets ahead of the round lump were four slender female arms, tied by the wrists to the bar at the head of the bunk.
The round lump twitched in her bonds and loudly farted for so long that the man woke up.
“Fuck Vysha! That stinks!” The man said disgustedly.
The lump farted again without waking, the man sat up, wafting the air away with four separate hands.
The man poked the lump through the sheets, making her fidget and squeak softly, half awake.
“Hey there handsome hunk, you want to ravish my defenceless tied-up body so early in the morning?” The lump said provocatively in a sexy sensual feminine tone of voice, her seduction as subtle as a garish clown flashing policewomen in a crowded street.
“No, I just want you to stop farting.” The man replied.
An irritated transparent female head poked out of the sheets in annoyance, her body shifting in her bondage to face the man with difficulty.
“You have a stunningly beautiful woman tied naked and defenceless in your bed and you don’t even want to do ANYTHING to me?” The woman Vysha said incredulously with wounded pride.
“It’s like 3 in the morning, I have duty in the morning, I need sleep.” The man said apologetically.
“Then why did you wake me up?” Vysha asked in irritation.
“You were farting.”
“No I wasn’t!”
“YES YOU WERE!” Said like half the other men in the bunks around them.
“Well farts can still be sexy, right?” Vysha suggested provocatively.
“No...” Men throughout the room came to a mutual agreement.
“Well I’m awake now and I want to play, I’m still tied-up from last night and ready for anyone who wants to take advantage of me.” Vysha purred like a shameless trollop.
“You are in my bed, I don’t want other guys crawling on top of me while I’m trying to sleep.” The man in bed with her complained.
“I’m a little too tied up at the moment to change beds.” Vysha said playfully, still trying to flirt.
“I offered to untie you like ten times tonight, sleeping in ropes was your idea not mine!” The man bickered with her.
“But it’s SO sexy to be all at your mercy! How can you keep your hands off me right now?” Vysha insisted.
“Because it’s 3 in the morning, I have duty in the morning, and quite frankly you are so pregnant that having sex with you is getting hard.” The man said bluntly.
Vysha gasped and rolled her pregnant body over in her bondage to coldly turn her back on him.
“These are YOUR kids in my belly!” Vysha said spitefully over her shoulder.
“Not JUST mine, only ONE of them is mine, the others belong to seventeen different dudes.” The man tiredly reminded his bed companion.
Vysha opened her mouth to snap a reply but before she could she very loudly farted involuntarily!
“That stinks!” The man in bed with her complained in disgust.
“Then put your dick in my ass to plug my farts.” Vysha snapped crossly.
“It’s 3 in the morning! I will HAPPILY give you a shag LATER when I don’t have to sleep!” The man insisted.
Vysha humphed at this and silently brooded, her feelings hurt.
“Vysha ... I don’t want to upset you. I love you.”
“You don’t act like you love me Zek.”
The man, Soldier Zek, caressed a finger down Vysha’s side in little circles intimately and soothingly the way he (wrongly) thought she liked, making her giggle ticklishly from the soft touch and squirm in her bondage going mental.
Vysha’s face split in an involuntary grin as more of his fingers caressed her, her giggling getting worse, her squirms getting more frantic. Zek seemed to think that she enjoyed this torment, Vysha held back her protests hoping that he would shag her if she pretended to enjoy it.
“You are lucky that I love you.” Zek whispered in her ear, kissing the side of her neck from behind as his touch made her jump and squirm, his hands reached around her to fondle her milk-swollen chest.
The penetration that followed was as passionate and intense as any penetration from a sleep deprived man at 3 in the morning, just barely enough to satisfy Vysha and ending with Zek resting inside her, holding her from behind tightly.
Vysha felt him kiss the back of her head once and then fall asleep in contentment. Vysha yawned sleepily in his warm embrace and drifted off to a peaceful sleep with Zek still inside her.
For a time all was still.
Then she farted so hard over his dick that the entire bunk room was woken up.
It was 0358 ship’s time, and the ship galley was completely alive with rats.
On a bench top was a long row of huge nanotechnology endowed machines, industrial scale kitchen food-synthesisers specifically, all of them running like crazy spitting out so many food pellets that they were falling out on the floor, contributing to sizeable piles of pellets on the floor - all crawling with hundreds of rats. Up on top of each machine was a fat rat sitting its bottom down on the activation button, a simple trick the rats learned long ago to keep the machines running.
The sound of footsteps outside - the rats scattered away under the benches, exiting the room through a plastic air duct grate they had gnawed open.
The lights flickered on in the galley, the catering staff pausing to regard the considerable mess of food piles and reeking rat shit dominating the middle of the floor.
With a wordless sigh they picked up shovels and started shovelling the pellets onto the large “rat-shit-sieve” they had jury-rigged, shaking the large sieve around so that the rodent faeces fell away through the sieve grate leaving the pellets “clean”.
The newly “cleaned” pellets then went straight into the steam ovens for the crew breakfast.
A quick sweep up and mop and surface wipe-down removed all the evidence of the rats before the rest of the crew entered the adjacent mess room. The steam ovens opened to show loaves of nutrient dense bread that the steam-activated nanotech food material had transformed into with the addition of minutes of scalding steam exposure.
The catering staff got a selection of other (rat-free) food stuffs cooked and prepared, mostly nanotech synthesised but some of it “real food” from the cargo food-stores. The galley smelled wonderful with the aroma of hot cooked foods, the air filtration systems hiding all traces of the previous rat smells.
Catering Chief Teft did not say a word as dozens of crewmen got stuck into the rat-bread, it was probably fine, sterilised by the autoclave-like interior of the high pressure steam oven, it was completely harmless so long as no one told them that they were eating rat-shit residue.
Cook Bim and the other catering staff also said nothing about the rat shit food, the longer they didn’t tell anyone the worse trouble they would be in if they EVER told anyone, none of them particularly wanted to be gang bashed by the entire crew for serving them rat shit for years at this point.
“This bread is SO good!” The pregnant Vysha moaned, stuffing her face with the rat-bread with insatiable pregnancy food cravings.
“Bread Dada, bread Dada.” One of the almost two year old larval sons of the ship’s commanding officer Underlord Xant said in an adorable tiny voice from a high-chair next to the formidably muscular Underlord, getting given more rat-bread from his father.
“This bread is really good Babe,” The Underlord’s girlfriend Nyxia said happily, eating the rat-bread and hand feeding it to more of the pair’s very small children, reaching out with a hand to feed some of her bread to her massive lover.
Yeah, this was totally fine...