This is not the tale of the Exoplanet tribute high society's attack on the orbital post above the frontier satellite Mariachi-2, of the plan to protest by shutting down the station nuclear reactor, leading to the meltdown of the reactor, demolition of the station and a dozen nearby ship, and a rainwater of orbital debris that devastated the fragile and primitive ecosystem of the very planet they were trying to protect. You can get that story from the news and, someday I'm sure, the history book.

This is not the storey of how my mother, my sister, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to run away the disaster into FTL only to be destroyed by rubble, of our trajectory to and rendezvous at the lifeboats, of the 24-person lifeboat jettisoning with just the three of us aboard. There are at least a twelve such accounts from the 87 survivors from the Peg, and most, to be honest, are more compelling.

This is not the story of the for the first time tumultuous minute after the lifeboat launched, of our lifeboat getting pummeled with debris from the Peg, tumbling and burning for hours before it stabilized while we cried and screamed, vomiting and pissing ourselves in sheer terror before the lifeboat finally stabilized and we collapsed into an exhausted sleep. I never want to revisit those twelve hours again so long as I live.

No, this is the story of the three calendar month after that, the fourth dimension between waking up on the lifeboat and getting picked up two months ago by a patrol ship out on the edge of search place. The account of what happened with my mother, my sister, and I. It is a very personal chronicle, not to be released before my death, but one that is very important to me. Even if no one else ever gets to scan it, I wanted it to be written.

Before we get to that story, let me insert the stamp of characters, my family.

We'll start with my dad. His figure was Michael Bloom, and he was 55 when he died down on Mariachi-2. Long before I was born, he grew up on Hestia-3, went to college, got his MBA, got married, and started working in corporate finance. They had a twosome of kids, but I guess affair just gradually started to fall apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech company on Podarok-2 where he met my mother, the final nail in the coffin for his marriage. He and my mom got married soon after the divorce, I was born a year later, and my sister was born a year after that. He was a right dad, and seemed to be a safe husband, although he poured so much energy into his piece of work that we all sort of had to induce the well-nigh of the meter he had absolve. And he was apparently great at what he did, because he got picked to be an Executive Vice President of this big financial services firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our trip. That's why we took it - he was taking a geological fault between jobs to finally enjoy some time with his family. He was a good guy.

My mom is Anne flower, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kilos. She was a teenaged beauty queen on Podarok-2, but her family couldn't afford the kind of custom hereditary improvements needed for her to make a life history out of it, so after senior high school she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new escritoire on sight, a trusted sign that he had already mentally left his marriage. She kept working until after my sister was born, by that dot Dad was really raking it in. She was a housewife after that, but the copious, glamorous kind. I don't ever remember her lifting her hand to do actual housework - that's why we had a menage staff. Her principal job was to host parties and face ripe, and she managed both with a great sentiency of style and an amazing hourglass figure that was probably 80 % cancel and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a pathetic kid from the hill in her heart, she's a good mom, and from everything I saw she was a just married woman, too.

My epithet is Jackson bloom of youth. I turned 17 standard years old a few months before all this happened, and should have started my fourth yr of high school school about a month ago. I was genetically engineered at birth and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the human population, but while my ascent were truly top ledge, I've always lacked the form of motivating that would really let me last up to my potential. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of lean, athletic sinew, I'd say I'm really a pretty formula teenager. wellspring, I am a little unusual in one big way. Or two slightly lowly ways, depending on the juncture. I mentioned that Dad worked for a big biotech company, and somehow he was allowed to hold me some"especial feature of speech ”, things they had invented but would never release. Things like enhanced pheromones, and testes that can churn out to a greater extent seminal fluid than a typical college frat house. Oh, and two dicks. Sometimes.

I have a regular phallus. well, not regular - it's about 15cm long when limp and more than 30cm erect, and a little more than than 6cm across. I call it Honest President Johnson. But it is basically a even phallus. Underneath it is where matter get complicated.

The genetic locomotive engineer at the companionship gave me a few new muscles, a few new sphincter muscle, and a sec, more elastic penis. about of the time, I keep those anatomical sphincter shut with no more attempt or thought than you use to keep your bunghole closed, and even during sex it is null at all to keep back Tricky Dick hidden away. The raise elasticity lets it compact really small when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest President Johnson isn't already too rear ( it gets complicated, rely me ), a barely seeable"knot"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky Dick joins the party. The solely real hitch is that I only have so practically blood, so when both of the male child are in swordplay they're only about 24cm yearn and 5cm thick. But they look and function more or less identically, one stacked over the other.

By the way, this isn't all as enceinte as it sounds. I had to instruct to check all that as a toddler, and until then apparently my parents had some really interest experiences at bath sentence and when changing my diapers. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured athletic safe looks kept me reasonably popular with the Lady, nearly don't want anything to do with a putz that size of it, much lupus erythematosus two. By the time I was 15, I had successfully gotten three girlfriends to take a personal stake in my junk, and two of them had called it quits on the blot - the third was intrigued and resulted in a brief but very educational human relationship. On the downside, one of the former two also talked about me to her ally, which quickly spread, earning me the nickname of"Tommy Two-Dicks"around school.

By the way, if you are wondering why my Dad gave me this particular"gift ”, I don't really make out. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious rationality no longer can. My outflank hypothesis is that he wanted people to see me as a reflection of him, and region of that included some kind of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the rest of the story, there is one more somebody to mention : my baby, Tiffany. spat was born exactly one standard class after me. My female parent wanted a boy and a girl, wanted us to be close in age, and thought it would be cute if we shared a birthday. My dad wanted her to be glad and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the system. She also got some significant customize genetic enhancement, zero quite as bizarre as my own… I think. Dad let mom choose her features, and I don't think Mom really understood what she was doing. Regardless, bickering has always been incredibly smart and in fantabulous health, but by the time she hit 13 she could sink for a few year older and attracted the relentless attention of every man ( and many women ) in any elbow room she entered. She's about 157cm tall, maybe 50kg soaking wet, and her ratio are almost supernatural - long of leg and arm, midget shank, nicely proportional tits and ass, and all perfectly harmonious. almost of my friends ( all of the hombre, and many of the daughter ) had made bye at her and I was fully aware of how attractive she was… from a purely academic stand, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving administrator Dad, a beauty poof secretary Mom, an underperform superman, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family, pretty wealthy and therefore a little more aloof than most, but happy nonetheless.

Oh, one more thing before we begin : The lifeboat.

The Ceres-Hastings line of lifeboats were pretty new but also pretty typical of those found on the nicer grade of starliners. They were designed to get rider away from the ship as quickly and safely as potential, and then basically just delay for help to get. They were designed to keep 24 citizenry alive for 30 days, and not much else - they offered safety, not comfort. They can't really shoot down anywhere with an standard atmosphere, and the rider are deliberately locked out of affair like pilotage to keep them from accidentally crashing it into the something, so let's just glossiness over things like locomotive engine and armor plating and artificial gravity and focus on what we could actually put our hands on.

The rear section of the lifeboat had 24 acceleration rear in six rows of four with an aisle down the middle. There was a hatch at the rear by which we had entered, but it literally welded itself shut on launch, so it didn't really exist as a hatch anymore. At the very front man there was a modest airlock big enough for a single large person, and on either English of it a couple of"bid"place with the express ascendency and video display needed to put up the passengers just enough knowledge and control to last out sane. In between was a small undetermined region lined on one side with dispensers for rationing out food for thought and pee and a few storage lockers with some other supplies, and on the early with a wash, lav, and lavish that could be isolated from each other and the rest of the ship by privateness panels - hygiene wasn't considered all that important but survivors might need to wash dangerous cloth off. In the very shopping center of the floor were a couple of dialog box concealing the location of two automeds.

The front and the back part were lined with showing that simulated window, connected to cameras on the outside of the armored hull, and the unanimous quad was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a trivial heater than normal room temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a pleasure yacht.

Ok. Let's Begin .