This is not the write up of the Exoplanet Protection lodge's attack on the orbital station above the frontier planet Mariachi-2, of the plan to protest by shutting down the station reactor, leading to the meltdown of the reactor, destruction of the station and a dozen nearby ship, and a rain of orbital debris that devastated the fragile and primitive ecosystem of the very planet they were trying to protect. You can get that tale from the news program and, someday I'm sure, the story book.

This is not the story of how my mother, my sister, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to break loose the disaster into FTL only to be destroyed by debris, of our flight of stairs 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 subsister from the Peg, and most, to be honest, are more compelling.

This is not the story of the first tumultuous hours after the lifeboat launched, of our lifeboat getting pummeled with debris from the Peg, tumbling and burning for 60 minutes 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 dozen hours again so long as I live.

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

Before we get to that story, let me bring in the casting of eccentric, my family.

We'll first with my dad. His gens was Michael peak, 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 couple of minor, but I guess affair just gradually started to fall apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech troupe on Podarok-2 where he met my female parent, the final nail in the casket for his marriage ceremony. He and my mom got hook up with soon after the divorcement, I was born a year later, and my babe was born a class after that. He was a dependable dad, and seemed to be a good husband, although he poured so often Energy into his piece of work that we all kind of had to make the well-nigh of the time he had rid. And he was apparently great at what he did, because he got picked to be an executive director vice chairwoman of this big financial services business firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our trip. That's why we took it - he was taking a break of serve between jobs to finally enjoy some time with his mob. He was a good guy.

My mom is Anne flush, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kilo. She was a teenaged beauty queen mole rat on Podarok-2, but her phratry couldn't afford the kind of custom genetic improvements needed for her to make a vocation out of it, so after highschool schooltime she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new repository on mint, a sure signboard that he had already mentally left his marriage. She kept working until after my sister was born, by that point Dad was really raking it in. She was a housewife after that, but the rich, glamourous kind. I don't ever think of her lifting her hand to do actual housework - that's why we had a home stave. Her principal job was to host parties and look good, and she managed both with a big sensory faculty of flair and an amaze hourglass figure that was probably 80 % natural and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a pitiful kid from the hill in her centre, she's a beneficial mom, and from everything I saw she was a safe wife, too.

My epithet is Jackson Bloom. I turned 17 stock yr old a few calendar month before all this happened, and should consume started my fourth year of gamey school about a month ago. I was genetically engineered at birth and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the man universe, but while my upgrades were truly top shelf, I've always lacked the kind of need that would really let me live up to my voltage. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of incline, athletic muscle, I'd say I'm really a pretty formula teenager. Well, I am a petty unusual in one big way. Or two slightly diminished ways, depending on the occasion. I mentioned that Dad worked for a big biotech company, and somehow he was allowed to give me some"special features ”, things they had invented but would never release. matter like heighten pheromones, and testes that can churn out more semen than a typical college fraternity home. Oh, and two peter. Sometimes.

I have a regular penis. Well, not regular - it's about 15cm long when limp and more than 30cm erect, and a little to a greater extent than 6cm across. I call it Honest LBJ. But it is basically a veritable member. Underneath it is where thing get complicated.

The transmissible engineers at the fellowship gave me a few new brawniness, a few new anatomical sphincter, and a second, more elastic penis. to the highest degree of the time, I keep those sphincters shut with no more travail or thought than you use to stay fresh your asshole closed, and even during sex it is zero at all to preserve Tricky tool hidden away. The enhanced elasticity lets it heavyset really small when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest Andrew Johnson isn't already too erect ( it gets complicated, desire me ), a barely visible"air mile"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky Dick joins the party. The only genuine arrest is that I only have so much blood, so when both of the boys are in play they're only about 24cm long and 5cm midst. But they look and function more or less identically, one stacked over the other.

By the way, this isn't all as slap-up as it sounds. I had to learn to control all that as a yearling, and until then apparently my parents had some really interesting experiences at bathing tub times and when changing my diapers. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured athletic right tone kept me reasonably popular with the madam, most don't want anything to do with a dick that size, much less two. By the fourth dimension I was 15, I had successfully gotten three lady friend to select a personal involvement in my detritus, and two of them had called it quits on the spot - the third was intrigued and resulted in a abbreviated but very educational relationship. On the downside, one of the former two also talked about me to her friends, which quickly spread, earning me the sobriquet of"Tommy Two-Dicks"around school.

By the way, if you are wondering why my Dad gave me this picky"gift ”, I don't really have it off. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious reason no longer can. My comfortably guessing is that he wanted people to see me as a expression of him, and persona of that included some form of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the eternal sleep of the story, there is one more person to mention : my babe, Louis Comfort Tiffany. Tiff was born exactly one banner year after me. My mother wanted a boy and a girl, wanted us to be close in age, and thought it would be precious if we shared a natal day. My dad wanted her to be happy and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the system. She also got some significant customized hereditary enhancement, nix 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, spat has always been incredibly overbold and in excellent wellness, but by the time she hit thirteen she could pass for a few yr elder and attracted the dogged attention of every man ( and many women ) in any room she entered. She's about 157cm tall, maybe 50kg soaking wet, and her proportions are almost occult - long of leg and arm, petite waist, nicely proportional tits and ass, and all perfectly symmetrical. almost of my friends ( all of the guys, and many of the girls ) had made passes at her and I was fully aware of how attractive she was… from a purely faculty member viewpoint, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving executive Dad, a beauty queen secretary Mom, an underachieving demigod, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family, pretty loaded and therefore a little more removed than most, but happy nonetheless.

Oh, one Sir Thomas More thing before we begin : The lifeboat.

The Ceres-Hastings dividing line of lifeboats were pretty new but also pretty typical of those found on the nicer stratum of starliners. They were designed to get passenger away from the ship as quickly and safely as possible, and then basically just wait for help to arrive. They were designed to keep 24 citizenry alert for 30 days, and not much else - they offered safety, not comfort. They can't really land anywhere with an ambience, and the passengers are deliberately locked out of matter like pilotage to celebrate them from accidentally crashing it into the something, so let's just gloss over thing like engines and armor plating and artificial gravity and focus on what we could actually put our workforce on.

The buns part of the lifeboat had 24 acceleration tail end 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 there was a low air lock big enough for a ace large person, and on either face of it a dyad of"command"seats with the limited restraint and displays needed to put up the rider just enough knowledge and control to appease sane. In between was a small open area lined on one side of meat with dispensers for rationing out food and piss and a few computer memory locker with some other supplies, and on the other with a washing, toilet, and shower that could be isolated from each other and the rest of the ship by privacy dialog box - hygiene wasn't considered all that crucial but survivors might need to wash serious materials off. In the very center of the floor were a couple of panels concealing the location of two automeds.

The front and the nurture segment were lined with displays that simulated window, connected to cameras on the outside of the armored Hull, and the whole space was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a little ardent than formula room temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a pleasure yacht.

Ok. Let's Begin .