"Somebody put me back in the fridge."

- Demolition Man


Amy had traded her stuffy little command trailer for a fully dedicated command center. Out were the cramped boxy walls with wires tangled everywhere and a tiny cockpit seat thrown in the middle. In was the spacious alien disc structure with enough room for Amy's own support crew and guards, built around a relay cradle fit to be a queen's throne.

Amy had her legs propped up against an antenna pylon with her long brown tails shimmering down her sides. She was stretched back into a nest of broadband cables forming a sort of hammock. Her nails were effortlessly gliding across the keyboards hanging over her lap. One might say she was quite based.

Her outfit wasn't much different from her old mercenary get-up. The pink and white jacket was almost exactly the same, only the adult-sized version shrunk down the zipper ornament to put more emphasis on her chest. Most of the revisions were for her lower quadrants, where the window in her dress now came together at her waist (while still showing off plenty of midriff, of course). Her frilled white skirt almost fully encircled her thighs, while her pink belt was moved up a few inches to function as an actual belt rather than as a joke of a microskirt that barely kept her groin covered. A small, bright pink pleather holster dangled from her right hip so she could always have her sidearm handy.

The two dangling rings from her old jacket were linked together by a third ring. It trailed from a strip of fabric on the back of her skirt like a cat's tail, carefully looped between her legs to essentially become her underwear, and latched to the other rings just below her navel. Her colorful foot attire remained almost the same, only scaled up a few sizes and with mini two-inch pointed heels added for a little extra style.

Amy's body type was simply too complex and shapely to get away with just wearing a bigger version of her old outfit without risking some serious wardrobe complications. Strangely enough, this meant she was technically more modestly dressed in her sultry adult form than that little skimpy thing that she used to be.

Now, if only being spoiled with the best illegal hacking technology the criminal underworld had to offer would help her stay focused.

Another ACCESS DENIED panel flashed in front of her face, causing her to pout in frustration. These government stooges she'd been sent to wreak havoc on seemed too good for her. She tried everything she could think of to crack her way through the firewall. She attacked from every angle using floating point encryption, a shell sort, the Pythagorean Theorem, the Laws of Robotics, four different Grandfather Paradoxes, the Chewbacca Defense, and the Elton John Principle, but those stupid counter-intrusion sentries just wouldn't budge.

Amy shook her head and rubbed her eyes. This was her fifth hack job of the night, and her mind just wasn't staying in the game anymore after all the long hours playing hexadecimal Tetris. Situations like this meant she needed a little overclocking.

"Yo, Taco Bell. Time to get back in the tank."

Amy snapped her fingers and pointed down below her waist. The anonymous bodyguard who had been standing on-call to her left walked to the back of her cockpit platform.

Amy pulled her feet down and straddled her knees over a brightly lit maintenance portal below her power harness. She unfastened the third ring on her skirt with a quick and conveniently finger flick, allowing the small pink modesty panel that ran between her legs to swing open. Her new work dress had been designed with all of her requested luxuries in mind.

The masked worker behind her dropped to the floor and rolled face-up on an automated rail system. The track loaded them underneath the antenna array and secured their head directly under Amy's parted legs. Their helmet had to be partially removed for functional purposes, but their identity was still safely hidden between the compressed curves of Amy's thighs and the frills of her skirt. The human tongue only needed a couple inches of clearance to be used effectively.

Amy gently rocked her hips to get herself the rest of the way situated and set the pace.

"Mnf… much better," she purred as she went back to work on her keyboard. She lowered her head to breathe more quietly and hide her light blush. The tiny rhythmic pivots she made with her waist helped her ignore all the outside pressure and regain her concentration.

Amy found her stride at the console and demonstrated her renowned skills as a cunning cyber thief. The grunt lying underneath her demonstrated their renowned skills as a cunning e-linguist. She hacked her way through the firewall at maddening speeds, working straight through an occasional yelp in her voice or a tiny involuntary spasm in her hips.

Finally, the long-awaited ACCESS GRANTED screen appeared. The pirated server suddenly burst open with joy and spilled all of its sweetest secrets like an overflowing bowl of honey. And so did Amy.

She sat back in her seat and sighed in multiple degrees of satisfaction. She gave her helper a rewarding pat on the head, pushed them out from under her by throwing an Eject lever next to her seat, and calmly clasped her center belt-ring back into place. With another job well done, Amy stood up in her antenna array and stretched.


Author's note: Amy really likes the movie Swordfish and I really hate the game Breath of the Wild.