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"Tighten up that left wing. Maintain visual contact until we're clear of the nebula."

Teresa queued an affirmative response in acknowledgement to her squadron leader. They were running a defensive patrol around the ship as they passed through a dense nebula. There weren't any hostile craft on ship's sensors, but this was standard procedure, even if there was no apparent threat. The last thing they wanted was for someone out here to get the drop on them.

"Gasses are starting to thin," Hermes said. "I can see stars. Praeum Actual will emerge in a few seconds."

"Stay alert," their squadron leader called.

The blues and greens washed over her canopy and the countless pinpoints of light surrounded them again. To her right, beyond Hermes holding their flank, the enormous vessel they called home emerged with them.

She swiveled her head left and right, making another visual check to cross-verify with her sensors-...

The fighter to her left erupted in a bright green starburst, leaving behind only a cloud of vapor and liquefied metal.

Zenith was on her left wing, but now her flank was vulnerable.

"A dozen bandits," Commander Lurel said as calmly and professionally as all of her reports so far. "Break formation and engage, weapons free."

_"_Praxeum Three, acknowledged." Teresa pulled on her stick and rolled her fighter up onto its port side. Hermes rolled with her. She glanced down at her sensors for a brief second, but it was long enough. She flipped her comms over to the private channel she kept with Hermes. "Stick tight on me, Praxeum Four. I read twelve Stingray-class fighters."

"Imagine that," her wingman responded. "Their fighters are identical to ours, no way!"

"Cut the sarcasm and stay on my ass."

Blue laserblasts flashed by her canopy and she swore. Her vulpine ears laid flat against her helmet that hugged the back of her cranium and up between her pointed ears. A warning siren sounded and her instruments flashed red. Her feet worked the pedals and she pulled the stick back toward herself. Her other hand drew back the throttle, bringing her in a tight turn back along her previous heading. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermes following suit.

A small transparent plate slid over her eye, bringing up targeting information for her. As a red blip crossed over the cross-hairs transposed there, she shoved her throttle forward, speeding straight toward the pair of attackers that had come after her.

"All shield strength to forward deflector screens." Even as she spoke, her fingers danced over the console in front of her. "If they want to commit suicide, let 'em."

Blue blasts splashed across her shields and she squeezed off a few shots of her own. Her sensors were garbled at best and the red blip shown erratically on her targeting monitor. Her shields read steady at eighty-nine percent.

All at once, the energy cascading over her shields dissipated and she tore through a cloud of vapor that had once been the attacking fighter. She rolled her fighter up on its starboard wing and arched back toward the rest of the fighter wing, already searching for another target.

"Still with me, Praxeum Four?"

"Roger that! Got a little cook, but I read two scratched bandits."

"Praxeum Seven picked one up. Let's help them out, shall we?"

There were several fighters already downed, but the others zipped about the empty space around the Praxeum. There was a pair arching up along the large ship's dorsal spine, one firing at the other. Teresa brought her small fighter in behind them and flipped her weapons over to torpedoes. "Come on, come on," she muttered. "If I can just get close enough..."

Her HUD light up red and flashed as blue laserblasts illuminated her cockpit. Then everything went black.

A moment later, a three-dimensional grid appeared in front of her canopy, a readout of the ongoing battle. Her squadron, the little blue blips on the monitor, was doing quite well against the attacking squadron. Hermes had taken out the fighter that had been chasing their squadron-mate, but the pair of fighters that had snuck up along the port side of the Praxeum was now chasing him into open space with the rest of the fighters.

They chased him back toward the dogfight, and all engine power cut out. Had they hit him? No, she watched his nose swing around and the maneuver brought his weapons to bear. A moment later, both pursuing fighters winked out.

She wanted to cheer, but she still felt a little bitter about her death. How did they get the drop on her? She knew the answer, of course. She'd gotten cocky. She let her guard down after vaping the first fighter. She'd made a rookie mistake, believing herself to be invincible. It probably didn't help, she realized, that she forgot to equalize her shield power. Her nose had been fully shielded, but her flank and her rear end had been completely vulnerable. Thankfully, Hermes seemed to have remembered.

There were a few more casualties in her squadron, but ultimately, the attacking squadron was eliminated. It was only when the surviving craft from her squadron returned to the hanger that the screen died and a green light appeared on her canopy. She popped it free and clambered out. All around her, the canopies of the other fighters were releasing and their pilots emerging.

All twenty-four pilots called to one another from across the hanger, whooping and hollering as they grouped up, heading toward the locker room. Many of them re-enacted the maneuvers they had just used against one another with their hands, bragging as only fighter pilots can.

Teresa smirked and shook her head. Another combat simulation. They had never encountered any aliens or anything, but it was always nice to be prepared. Just in case. So they ran simulated sorties against one another, Praxeum squadron against Praxeum squadron. This time, hers came out on top.

"You're not moping, are you?" a familiar squeak sounded behind her.

She stopped and turned, peering at the pilot walking toward her. Brice Kendrik. Squeak, as she was known by the other pilots. She was a short mouse with endowments all of them were jealous of. Already those endowments were straining against the zipper of her flightsuit.

"Moping?" Teresa asked.

"Yeah, after I illuminated your ass!"

The vixen shook her head and rolled her eyes. "I'm not moping! Trying to figure out why I was so stupid. No veteran pilot would have left their deflector grid so uneven like that."

"But you did!" Squeak said as she reached Teresa's side. Her little hand snaked under the vixen's tail and squeezed her rump. "And I lit you up!"

Teresa leaned down and captured her rival pilot's lips with her own. "Wont happen again, I promise you that."

"Uh huh." Squeak smiled and looped her arm with the vixen's. "You remember the wager?"

A heavy sigh passed her lips. "Yeah, I remember," Teresa relented. "Your quarters or mine?"

"I'm thinking yours. The least I could do is give you that much!"

Squeak could barely keep her hands off her on their way to her quarters. "That isn't the only thing you're gonna be giving me." She rolled her eyes and shook her head from side to side. "If you wouldn't single me out and focus on your missions, I might be the one giving it to you more often!"

"I don't single you out," her rival said. "I fly the sorties as command instructs. It's not my fault you keep finding yourself in my targeting computer."

As the door whirred shut behind them, Squeak pushed her against the cold metal and started pulling the zipper down. Teresa grunted and tried to push herself away from the door, but Squeak pressed her lam firmly against her sternum. She gave another grunt as she was forced back again.

"Ah-ah!" the mouse said, waggling a finger in front of her. "You stand right there!"

Squeak drew the zipper low, revealing the naked fur beneath. Both of her lithe hands disappeared beneath the blue fabric, cupping Teresa's bust against her eager palms.

Teresa moaned gently and arched her back, pressing her breast into the other pilot's hands. A moment later, those hands pushed her against the door again and her brow creased. She reached out, grabbing at Squeak's own zipper, but the mouse took her hands in her own and pressed them to the door over her head.

"No, no." The pilot clicked her tongue at her. "No touching." A very serious look masked the mouse's face. "Understood, Lieutenant?"

She wanted to scream! It was always like this! Squeak never let her get, well, anything out of this! She wanted to touch the mouse, explore her body, feel the weight of her boobs in her hands, dampen her fingers in the rodent's slit, anything. It was always the same thing. No touching.

"That's a good girl." Squeak let go of her hands and started to pull at her flight suit again. "Didn't wear anything under here? Good."

As she shuffled out of her flight suit and the heavy fabric fell to the floor, Teresa rolled her eyes. "That's the deal isn't it? Neither one of us wears anything under our flight suits?"

Squeak's finger pressed against her lips. "Sh-sh-sh. No talking."

She scowled and folded her arms over her bust. She opened her mouth to protest this new rule, but squeak clapped her muzzle shut.

"Shh! Now," the mouse stepped back, releasing her muzzle. "Get on your bed. All fours. Like a good girl."

Part of the vixen was furious that the game was going so... so... domineeringly, but part of her quivered in anticipation. She glared at the mouse who illuminated her in the simulator. She stepped out of her flight suit puddled at her paws and dropped her hands to her sides. Squaring her shoulders and holding her chin high, she strode with purpose into her bedroom.

Her eyes remained on the bed against the far wall extending toward the middle of the room. She didn't give her rather Spartan accommodations a second glance as she crawled onto the center of the mattress. She spread her legs wide and curled her fingers in the bedding covering her bed.

As she drew her tail to the side, presenting her moist nethers and pulsing sack, she heard the sound of a zipper whirring behind her. A shuffle of fabric and leather made her ears perk and twitch. Without needing to see her, Teresa was painfully aware that the attractive mouse behind her had taken off her clothes. She also was painfully aware that she would probably be chastised if she did anything to sit there and wait.

She hung her head in frustration as the bed shifted with her partner's weight. She stared past her hanging breast and erect penis at the two legs shuffling closer. She wanted to see more, wanted to see all of the naked grey fur covering her mousy lover.

With the way things were going, Squeak would probably deny her even the half-pleasure she was about to receive. She groaned gently when the mouse's hands rested on her hips. She rocked back, but Squeak stilled her movements. She curled her fingers in the bedding and grit her teeth. Damnit, she wanted to touch, to be touched!

Squeak didn't deny her long. Teresa was afraid she might squeeze her hips in an effort to torment her. She lifted her head and the urge to turn and look over her shoulder burned hot in her mind. No, she felt a firm prodding at her nethers. Squeak's hands never left her hips, but they'd done this enough that the mouse really didn't need help guiding herself home anymore. She was not about to break the mouse's rules and deny herself the pleasure she was about to feel.

Squeak's weight shifted and a moment later Teresa felt her ample bust press against her bare back. Hot breath washed over her pointed ears, making them twitch.

"This is my favorite part," Squeak whispered. "I get to remind you who is the better pilot, then I get to remind you that you belong to me."

Squeak bucked against her and she yipped loudly. As short a woman as she was, the mouse was well endowed. Not only in the chest area! She felt so full. She was so full! Squeak filled every crevice, stretched every inch of her before seating firmly against her cervix.

"Did you stop taking your injections?"

Teresa grit her teeth and hung her head again. This was a part of the game she didn't enjoy. Not to say the risk didn't present a certain thrill, but if it ever came to fruition, her time behind the stick of her Stingray would be severely cut short. Sure, she would eventually be back in the cockpit, but after how many months? Years?

"Yes," she begrudgingly admitted, staring at the pair of grey legs pressed tightly against the back of her own.

"Good."

There wasn't a moment to prepare for what happened next. Teresa threw her head back and moaned deeply as Squeak's hips drove sharply against her own. Each hard smack rocked her body forward and she had to push her hands forward along the bed just to keep herself steady.

Squeak's hands glided down over her arms, going down to interlace with her own fingers slowly. She gave a squeak of her own as her partner sharply yanked her hands back. She fell forward and her face slammed into the softness of her pillow. With her shoulders rocking and grinding against the bedding, she gave a muffled moan.

Her hands glided back along the bed and up her thighs as Squeak pressed them against her own hips. Sandwiched between the pilot's firm grip and her own rocking hips, she had no choice but to curl her fingers in her own orange fur.

Squeak's weight lifted off of her back and she suddenly felt more naked than already she was. The cool, recycled air rushed over her back where once she'd felt the warmth of Squeak's bust and she quivered. She opened her mouth to ask her rival to bend over again, but it was lost in the cushioning of her pillow.

She felt herself rocked violently into her pillow with much more vigor now that Squeak wasn't bent over her. Part of her wanted the near-painful slap of the mouse's hips against her own to stop, but another part of her wanted more of the electricity and fire burning and popping in her belly every time the tip of Squeak's cock thumped into her cervix.

She balled her fists, trying to pull the fur out of her flesh but thankfully Squeak's hands kept her from pulling too far. She screamed into her pillow, begging for more. She knew her partner couldn't hear it, or if she did hear it she couldn't understand between being muffled and the sound of their hips slamming together.

Teresa rocked eagerly against every thrust, pushing her hips back sharply with every inward stroke of Squeak's skilled dick. The part that wanted more of it was winning out, but the fear quickly overpowered it, if only for the briefest moments. She felt her lover, her partner, and her rival hitch and give a loud squeak, the only noise she'd made so far.

Her body spread wide and the tip of the cock invading her pushed insistently against her womb. She felt the first heat rush into her belly and a wave of pleasure washed over her. She was barely aware of the pressure on her hips and her hands. She barely felt the bedding smashed against her face or the breasts once again pressed against her back. All she felt was ecstasy and a tingling heat racing through her body from head to toe to head and back.

By the time she started to remember where she was, pressed against her pillow, her throat was sore and her voice hoarse. At some point, her hands had been moved to the bedding on either side of the pillow. Squeaks hands were still there, gently holding hers as the mouse peppered her neck, shoulders, and cheek with kisses.

"Good girl," Squeak whispered when Teresa opened her eyes to stare up at her. "Good girl. Now stay right here." The pilot lifted her torso off of her back and pulled her cock out of her still quivering womanhood.

She felt so empty, so cold without Squeak's cock buried inside of her, or her chest hugged against her back. She opened her mouth to beg her rival pilot to come back, but only a whimper passed her lips. Her lids slowly closed and she curled her fingers weakly into the bedding.

The bed shifted slowly as the mouse crawled off, then was still again. Squeak caressed her limp, fuzzy tail as the mouse gave a gentle moan. "You stay here. Just like that. I don't want your shoulders leaving the pillow. I want your hips high in the air like that." She leaned over and gently kissed Teresa's lips.

"I'm going to take a shower. I'll be back. Then I'll put another load in you."

"Please," Teresa whispered. Please what? She gave a deep sigh as she pondered. Was she begging Squeak not to do that, begging her not to end her career, or at best put it on hiatus? Or was she begging for another belly full of the woman's cum?

"Please?" The mouse asked. "Please? Didn't I tell you not to talk?" Teresa heard her hum as she strode toward the fresher. "I'll forgive that transgression. When I get back, I'm going to put another load deep inside you then after that, you're going to make it up to me."

"How?" Teresa asked, a trill of excitement running down her spine.

"You're going to ride my dick till I tell you to stop."

She whimpered slowly, then gave a weak little nod.

"Good girl," Squeak told her simply. A moment later, she heard the shower running in the fresher and a moment after that, Squeak began to sing.