This is not the story of the Exoplanet Protection Society's attack on the orbital post above the frontier major 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 crude ecosystem of the very major planet they were trying to protect. You can get that story from the tidings and, someday I'm sure, the history book.

This is not the story of how my mother, my babe, and I escaped that catastrophe, of how the starliner Pegasus II tried to escape the disaster into FTL only to be destroyed by rubble, of our flight to and rendezvous at the lifeboats, of the 24-person lifeboat jettisoning with just the three of us aboard. There are at least a 12 such accounts from the 87 survivor 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 hours before it stabilized while we cried and screamed, vomiting and pissing ourselves in sheer affright before the lifeboat finally stabilized and we collapsed into an eject eternal rest. I never want to revisit those twelve hours again so long as I live.

No, this is the storey of the three months 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 infinite. The taradiddle of what happened with my mother, my sister, and I. It is a very personal floor, not to be released before my death, but one that is very important to me. Even if no one else ever gets to take it, I wanted it to be written.

Before we get to that story, let me introduce the mould of fictitious character, my family.

We'll startle 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 couple of kids, but I guess things just gradually started to descend apart. My dad took a new job with a biotech company on Podarok-2 where he met my female parent, the final nail in the casket for his marriage. He and my mom got hook up with soon after the divorce, I was born a year later, and my sister was born a year after that. He was a practiced dad, and seemed to be a proficient husband, although he poured so much vitality into his body of work that we all variety of had to make the most of the sentence he had absolve. And he was apparently swell at what he did, because he got picked to be an executive director Vice President of this big financial Service firm on Minos-4 not long before we took our trip. That's why we took it - he was taking a breaking between jobs to finally enjoy some time with his family. He was a secure guy.

My mom is Anne heyday, she's 37 but looks 25, about 168cm tall and maybe 65 kilogram. She was a adolescent stunner queen on Podarok-2, but her family couldn't afford the kind of customs duty genic improvement needed for her to make a vocation out of it, so after high school she went and got a job as a receptionist. My dad picked her to be his new repository on lot, a sure mansion 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 woman of the house after that, but the fat, glamorous kind. I don't ever commend her lifting her paw to do existent housework - that's why we had a household staff. Her primary job was to host parties and depend practiced, and she managed both with a great sentience of style and an get hourglass pattern that was probably 80 % raw and 20 % biomed touchup. She never got spoiled, she is still a misfortunate kid from the hills in her heart, she's a good mom, and from everything I saw she was a unspoilt wife, too.

My name is Jackson bloom. I turned 17 standard years old a few months before all this happened, and should have started my 4th year of mellow school about a month ago. I was genetically engineered at birth and"updated"periodically ever since, just like 99.99 % of the man population, but while my rise were truly top ledge, I've always lacked the form of need that would really let me live up to my potency. So while I am 180cm tall and 85kg of inclination, athletic muscle, I'd say I'm really a pretty normal teenager. wellspring, I am a slight unusual in one big way. Or two slightly smaller ways, depending on the function. I mentioned that Dad worked for a big biotech caller, and somehow he was allowed to pass on me some"special feature ”, things they had invented but would never unloosen. thing like enhanced pheromones, and testes that can roil out more cum than a typical college frat house. Oh, and two prick. Sometimes.

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

The genetic engine driver at the companionship gave me a few new muscles, a few new anatomical sphincter, and a 2d, more rubber band penis. near of the prison term, I keep those anatomical sphincter shut with no more effort or thought than you use to observe your asshole closed, and even during sex it is null at all to hold on Tricky Dick hidden away. The enhanced elasticity lets it compact really small when not in use. But if I want to, and if Honest Lyndon Baines Johnson isn't already too erect ( it gets complicated, trust me ), a barely visible"air mile"in my scrotum opens up and Tricky Dick joins the political party. The only real hindrance is that I only have so much blood, so when both of the son are in romp they're only about 24cm longsighted 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 great as it sounds. I had to learn to control all that as a bambino, and until then apparently my parents had some really interest experiences at tub clock time and when changing my diapers. And while my pheromones and genetically-ensured acrobatic serious looks kept me reasonably pop with the peeress, nigh don't want anything to do with a tool that size, much less two. By the prison term I was 15, I had successfully gotten three girlfriends to take a personal interestingness in my junk, and two of them had called it quits on the spot - the 3rd was intrigued and resulted in a brief but very educational relationship. On the downside, one of the erstwhile two also talked about me to her friends, 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 know. I never mustered up the courage to ask him, and for obvious grounds no longer can. My considerably guess is that he wanted people to see me as a reflection of him, and part of that included some kind of sexual dominance.

Now before I get to the rest of the story, there is one Sir Thomas More somebody to mention : my Sister, Tiffany. Tiff was born exactly one standard year after me. My mother wanted a boy and a girlfriend, wanted us to be close in age, and thought it would be precious if we shared a birthday. My dad wanted her to be happy and I think just appreciated the efficiency of the arrangement. She also got some significant customized genetic sweetening, nothing quite as outlandish as my own… I think. Dad let mom opt her features, and I don't think Mom really understood what she was doing. Regardless, Tiff has always been incredibly impertinent and in excellent health, but by the prison term she hit thirteen she could pass for a few years older and attracted the relentless care of every man ( and many womanhood ) in any room she entered. She's about 157cm tall, maybe 50kg soaking wet, and her proportions are almost supernatural - long of leg and arm, tiny waist, nicely proportional pap and ass, and all perfectly harmonious. about of my admirer ( all of the guy cable, and many of the little girl ) had made whirl at her and I was fully cognisant of how attractive she was… from a purely academician point of view, of course.

So that was us : an overachieving executive director Dad, a peach queen secretaire Mom, an underachieve dot, and an elven goddess just coming into her own. A family, pretty wealthy and therefore a little more distant than most, but felicitous nonetheless.

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

The Ceres-Hastings rail line of lifeboats were pretty new but also pretty typical of those found on the overnice class of starliners. They were designed to get rider away from the ship as quickly and safely as potential, and then basically just wait for help to arrive. They were designed to go on 24 people alive for 30 days, and not very much else - they offered rubber, not comfort. They can't really set down anywhere with an atmosphere, and the passenger are deliberately locked out of things like navigation to keep them from accidentally crashing it into the something, so let's just colour over things like engines and armour metal plating and stilted gravity and concenter on what we could actually put our hands on.

The parent part of the lifeboat had 24 quickening seats 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 modest airlock big enough for a individual large person, and on either side of it a couple of"command"bottom with the express ascendance and video display needed to provide the rider just enough knowledge and control condition to stay sane. In between was a small open area lined on one side with dispensers for rationing out food and water and a few reposition cabinet with some former supplies, and on the other with a wash, toilet, and shower bath that could be isolated from each early and the sleep of the ship by privacy panels - hygiene wasn't considered all that important but subsister might need to wash away dangerous materials off. In the very center of the story were a couple of panels concealing the location of two automeds.

The social movement and the tail end section were lined with show that simulated windows, connected to cameras on the exterior of the armored hull, and the whole space was normally kept heated to about 25°C, just a picayune strong than normal room temperature. And that was really about it. Again, it was a lifeboat, not a pleasure yacht.

Ok. Let's Begin .