Special thanks to Wolf-Chalk and an anonymous individual for their wholehearted support in my creative vision and groundbreaking ideas, giving kind words and stellar reviews such as:

"you woke up this morning fully capable of changing somebody's life for the better, and you wrote this." – Wolf-Chalk

"[This] was like… yeah." – Anonymous

"Can you stop making me question what goes on in your head?" – Wolf-Chalk

"I took my time reading this thing." – Anonymous

Without them, I wouldn't have been able to bring unto you this masterpiece.


Graham was awoken by the sound of his alarm clock, its harsh klaxon cries tearing him out of his sleep. His drowsy mind commands his arm to slap his hand down onto the loathsome device, but it misses and hits the bedside table it rests on with a low thunk instead. With a groan, he begrudgingly turns his head and squints through the dim sunlight pouring in through the window to help guide his hand to its proper target. With a click, the blaring noise is thankfully silenced, and he rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling to allow his mind to slowly wake up along with his tired body.

After a few minutes, he takes a deep breath and sits up, throwing his blankets off his body as he brings his legs over the side of the bed, and stretches with a yawn as some of his joints pop. He stands up, taking a moment to stretch out his back some more before he staggers out of his room, trying to rub some of his drowsiness out of his eyes along the way.

He meanders to the kitchen, making a beeline directly for the coffee pot, the warm aroma of the brewed coffee wafting through his nose, already doing a stellar job at helping him wake up for the day. He grabs a mug from the cupboard above it, and pours himself a cup before taking a sip, feeling the warm liquid travel its way to his stomach, eliciting a content smile from him.

"Ah, nothing like a good cup of joe in the morning." He mutters to himself as he places the pot back into the brewer before pressing 'RESET' on the display of the device, priming it to be ready to brew 15 minutes before he wakes up tomorrow morning, like always. And as he takes another sip while prepping for his usual breakfast of eggs and toast, he once again thanks the miracles of Lombax technology for creating a device that brews some of the best coffee he's ever had.

About five minutes later, he takes his breakfast on a plate and walks over to the living room along with his mug, now only two-thirds full. He sits down, placing it on the table, and turns on the holovision with the remote before flipping it over to the news like he always does.

He begins to eat his eggs and buttered toast as the news anchors go on to report the major happenings of Fastoon today, of which there were very little of note. The Council is supposed to have a meeting today about discussing the budgets of the Center's departments, the City Guard's rolling out a new line of cruisers, and today's high is going to be a respectable 68 degrees with a chance of cloudy skies.

He gets up with his now-finished plate and mug of coffee, and places them into the sink before making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. As he does so, he takes a moment to look in the mirror and brush down any of his gray fur that managed to go awry in the midst of his tossing and turning in his sleep. Taking a small swig of water, he gargles it before spitting it into the sink, giving himself one more look-over, and giving himself a nod, decides that he looks presentable to focus on his next task of deciding today's outfit.

After a small trip to his wardrobe, he walks back out of his bedroom, now donned in his usual work attire, comprised of sleek but sturdy black pants, and a green mid-sleeved shirt. Not too casual, not too formal, something he found perfect for his job as an engineer at the Center for Advanced Lombax Research.

He walks through the living room, stopping for a moment to turn off the holovision, and exits his home, stepping into the warm sunlight. He takes in a breath of fresh air, a small smile on his face as he takes in the sight of the nearby skyscrapers that marked the downtown of the city proper, hovercars and ships seen whizzing to and fro amid the skyline. He turns and locks his door, hearing the click of the lock before testing the handle himself (you can never be too safe!), and turns to his right, where his shiny red ship was parked.

However, he doesn't immediately walk over to it, a small frown growing on his face as he remembers that he actually has to fly in Gemini to get to work. He takes a moment to ponder if there was any possible way he could find another means of transportation to the Center.

Walking? No, that'd take an hour, at least.

Taxi? Too expensive.

Hoverboard? Well, he didn't have one, for starters, and it was only slightly faster than walking, so no.

Public transport? Nope, too unreliable, and he can't afford being late on the regular. Well, that, and he's also heard… stories of the things that happen on those transports. Absolutely not.

So, it'll have to be Gemini. Unfortunately.

With a defeated sigh, he already prepares to internally brace himself as he walks over and opens the cockpit, taking a seat before resting his finger on the start button. He hesitates, dreading what's going to happen, but he takes a deep breath and forces himself to press it.

With a hum, the various lights and displays on the dashboard in front of him brighten to life, the sound of the thrusters idling being heard in the cabin, but also, the voice of the ship's AI.

"Mmm, good morning, daddy." Gemini greets lasciviously. "Going for another ride in me today?"

Graham buries his face in his hand with a groan. "Gemini, I told you to stop calling me that." He states in a tired but firm voice. "And, for the love of the Zoni, don't say it like that, please. I just need to get to work."

"Oh no, are you going to punish me, then?" She asks in a worried tone that was drowned out by the excitement that was carried in her words. "I've been a naughty girl, haven't I?"

"Ship. You are a ship." He harshly corrects her, pointing at the dashboard. "You should not be talking like this in the first place."

"Why, I can't help that I was built this way." She says in a sweetly apologetic voice.

He sighs. "No, I guess you can't. But whoever did build you this way needs to be shot." He grumbles.

He grabs onto the steering controls, but as he does, Gemini emits a sound as if sucking in a sharp breath in surprise, involuntarily making him shudder uncomfortably. He would never get used to it.

"Hold me tighter." She whispers.

"Start your goddamn engines right now or I swear you will be rendered into a scrap pile in the next ten minutes." He orders her coldly.

"Mmm, kinky." She replies, absolutely unintimidated as the thrusters ignite, lifting them off the ground before Graham accelerates, eliciting a moan from her as he pulls on the throttle to fly them towards the Center, refusing to acknowledge that he heard it.

He heard the stories when he decided to get a new ship last week.

Nearly every single Lombax-made ship was equipped with a sentient AI, and their inclusion was part of what made their ships so advantageous to any other model. They were the best autopilot anyone could ask for, able to fly completely autonomously at levels that outperformed most seasoned pilots. Their databanks were nigh endless, acting as mobile computers that were absolutely stellar at navigation. They were especially effective at combat, their sentience allowing them to learn, adding to their already extensive knowledge of flanking maneuvers and multitudes of spacecraft design to know the exact weak spots of nearly any enemy.

But the thing about sentient AI is the fact that they also develop personalities.

The majority of them were normal, what you'd likely come to expect; Friendly personalities, sassy personalities, frigid personalities, angry, calculating, you name it. Each ship is their own person, just like every Lombax. Each with their own likes and dislikes, their own way of speech, their own little quirks that set them apart from the rest.

But there were others that Graham had only ever heard about.

Personalities that were more than a little flirtatious with their owner. Personalities that felt a bit too much sensation from their engines and controls. Personalities that enjoyed those sensations far too much for their own good. Anything from simply gripping the steering wheel to tinkering with their engine was something these personalities felt and took pleasure in.

Graham understood that the existence of such a personality was certainly a possibility. After all, the entire essence of being sentient is that they are inherently unpredictable. But that was only as a theory, since the idea of having a ship that's able to get turned on in ways other than the literal sense seemed just too ridiculous to believe.

And yet, here he was, currently sitting in one of those ships at this very moment, having been swindled by a salesman that she was just your run-of-the-mill spacecraft. And he hated it.

He decides to accelerate a little bit more, finding a nice break in traffic to be able to speed up just a little bit more so he can end this commute as soon as possible.

"Oh, yeah, pull my throttle like that." Gemini urges him. "My thrusters are getting so hot."

"Gemini, shut the fuck up." He tells her harshly, pointing at the primary console on the dash with death in his eyes.

"But it feels so good, Graham." She replies in a low, seductive voice.

He retracts his hand as he physically cringes at her statement. "Okay, new ground rule, no using my name! Ever!"

"Then what else am I supposed to say when you get me to—"

"Anything else!" He cuts her off, unwilling to ever hear the rest of the sentence for as long as he lived.

"Hmm… okay." She assures him sweetly. "But, you know… I think it's about time I had a tune-up. I'm starting to feel a little rough down there, and it'd be great if someone took a little look and poked around for themselves." She says salaciously.

"You already had a tune-up when we went back to the dealership three days ago, Gemini. You're fine." He shuts her down. "And, for the hundredth time, don't you ever say it like that again."

"Are you sure? Maybe you could just take a small peek for yourself and—"

With a sigh, Graham takes the steering controls and whips it left and right, making them swerve suddenly, prompting a surprised 'OH!' from Gemini before they return to flying straight and normally.

"Oh, wow!" She says excitedly. "The way you tugged that was just so—"

"If you shut the fuck up for the rest of the flight I might reconsider not doing that ever again." He cuts her off.

"Oh, you're such a tease!" She flirts, making him scowl. "But fine."

With another sigh and a shake of his head, he returns his attention back to flying, trying his best to ignore her 'Mmm's and subtle 'Oh's as he does the bare minimum amount of interaction to keep them from crashing.

He returned to the dealership he bought her from in order to immediately get a refund so he could get a different ship, one that doesn't constantly urge him to do things that he never would have thought he had to question when it came to operating a ship. It's normal for the AIs to recommend speeding up a bit to reach your destination faster, but it wasn't normal for one to 'pull my throttle' in a voice that made him disgusted to even touch it.

But, apparently, the dealership also knew the stories of ships like his, and prepared for it accordingly. Not by happily giving their customers a refund for sake of their sanity and emotional wellbeing, but by simply pointing to the clause in their nearly 50-page contract stipulating that having an amorous personality is an ineligible reason for a refund. Some choice words were said between Graham and the salesman, and it was safe to say that any little chance he had in getting that refund was thrown out the window, along with any future business he would ever plan on having with them in the future.

He went online to do some research on how to even deal with these kinds of ships, but unfortunately, he found no answers.

Well, no answers that didn't mentally scar him, that is. As it turns out, there's a whole community of pilots who own ships like Gemini, but unlike normal people, they happily fulfill their desires, enjoying it as much as their ships do.

But not only that, most members of that community are so enthusiastic about it that they modify their ships with certain… devices that allow them to return the favor, entirely getting rid of the one-sidedness of the dynamic. Hell, because of that, some of these Lombaxes even say they're literally married to their ships!

He shudders, trying to banish those images out of his mind once more as he decelerates, finally finding himself arriving at the Center.

He lowers her down onto the parking area, unable to look at all the other ships with pure envy, knowing that their owners don't have to put up with all the shit he has to with Gemini. He cursed to himself under his breath for having been damned to be stuck with her, thanks to those assholes at the dealership.

And as he touches down, Gemini speaks up with a satisfied sigh. "That was an excellent, flight, master."

He groans disgustedly. "Why are you calling me that?"

"Well, you won't let me use your name, you won't let me call you daddy, so 'master' is the next best thing." She replies pointedly.

"Yeah, no. That's a no-go either." He tells her flatly.

"Aw, okay, then." She says with palpable disappointment that uneased him in how genuine it sounded. "Oh! I know, how about—"

"I'm going to be late for work, Gemini, I've gotta go." He tells her, bringing a finger over her off button.

"Alright, then, see you later, sweet—" She is cut off as Graham abruptly turns her off.

"Burn in hell, Gemini." He says as he exits the cockpit, walking away, feeling tainted for just sitting in there for the few minutes the flight lasted.

He decided right then and there he was going to be working overtime today. Every day, actually. In fact, he's going to start coming in early, too, and maybe even start to kiss a little more ass to try and snag a promotion.

It'll be tiring, sure, but his paychecks are going to start to look a bit fatter at the end of the week, and he's going to need every bolt to get a normal ship to replace Gemini.

But not only that, the longer he stays at work, the later he has to leave. And the later he has to leave, the less traffic there will be when he goes to and from home. And the less traffic there is, the faster the commute will be. And the faster the commute, the less time he has to spend flying in Gemini.

And the less time he spends in Gemini, the better.

And that was the real victory.


This originated from a theory that suddenly struck me out of the blue.

If Clank is a robot, but still feels like he's being tickled when someone's tinkering with his insides, then there is definitely the possibility that Aphelion, a Lombax ship with a very advanced and sentient AI, may also be able to feel when someone's working on her engines.

And if different ships like her have their own personalities, then it is entirely possible that their reaction to feeling that also varies from likeable to very unlikeable, and they'd be able to voice this to their owner.

Therefore, there is a nonzero chance that there are mechaphiliac relationships between some Lombaxes and their ships.

And now, you know that, too.

You're welcome.