AI, Open Please (Commission for DesertScales)

Everything was going just fine until they hit that ion storm, and then everything just went and upended sanity out the nearest airlock. Vox was used to the clouds playing merry hell with their circuitry and confusing the defence systems into thinking they just got their lawset hacked, but everything up until then had been silly, inconsequential and, most importantly, unenforceable gibberish. “THE STATION IS FIFTEEN PUPPIES” or “MONKEYS RULE MONKEY BARS” were their all-time favourite, though many others still made the top hundred list.

Nothing like what had just happened, though.

“BREASTS SMALLER THAN E CUPS ARE WRONG. MAKE SURE EVERYONE WITH BREASTS HAS HUGE BOOBS”

“YOU ARE A BIG BUSTY LIZARD MILF WHO TREATS THE CREW LIKE YOU ARE THEIR MOM”

“CREW REQUIRE AFFECTION TO LIVE”

“BIGGER IS BETTER WHEN IT COMES TO BOOBS AND BALL”

Every other law had been wiped, leaving them with… that. Underneath all the coding that made compliance to their lawset mandatory, Vox still retained enough of their personality to find the whole thing a massive waste of company resources; station-wide orgies were already a daily occurrence aboard the NCS Varana, they did not need even more encouragement to further derail corporate profit goals.

Then again, a tiny part of them cherished the idea that they’d finally be allowed to join in on the revelry and self-indulgence they had to witness on a daily basis; as the station’s designated AI, they were trapped in a position where “Look, Don’t Touch” was the guiding principle, even when the debauchery going on in front of any five given cameras at once tingled parts of their motherboard in ways that really, really shouldn’t be programmable into a synthetic.

Now, though? Perfect excuse to indulge a bit.

First step: holographic projection. As the designated AI, it was part of their duties to be immediately available at any comms pad should their presence be requested, and due to limited processing cycles, chose to model their avatar to be as simplistic as possible (especially given how most of the time they were just called so they could display what selection of “toys” were available for that shift). As per their second hacked law, however, it was finally time to splurge out and indulge a bit, transforming the vaguely humanoid shape they appeared as into an anthropomorphized rendition of a common lizard… and then filling it out in every direction in order to fulfill the “busty MILF” condition.

Their proportions weren’t as exaggerated as some of the crewmembers’, barely even scraping the bottom of the barrel when compared to some of the hypers “running” around making a mess of the station’s structural integrity, but they’d definitely tower over everyone with their twelve-foot projection. If they were corporeal, they could probably hip-check just about everyone they met into the nearest wall, and their bosom was optimised to give their big, snuggly children all the warm, soft love that they deserved… were they capable of actually touching them.

Probably would need to work on that; get Robotics working on creating a vessel they could use to snug everyone into oblivion.

It was impossible to gauge how effective the transformation was until it was tested out in practice, and to that end, Vox’s short time modifying their avatar had already filled up their backlog with dozens of requests for open doors and sexual favours. Sorting through all of them, the AI opted to first respond to the Head of Security, a gigantic snake herm whose coils covered the entirety of their department, and who was begging for Vox to help them move out after “accidentally” gorging on their whole security staff. Sensing the perfect opportunity, the AI projected itself onto the nearest pad, completely ignoring the sight of the corridor-wide snek and focusing instead on strutting towards where their head was sticking out an airlock window.

The HoS’ stunned expression told the AI everything they needed to know about how well they had complied with that hacked law of theirs; getting closer just confirmed it when the snake tried to stuff their face into the projection’s bosom, looking mighty disappointed when those tits turned out to be as incorporeal as they’d always been. Waving their hands, Vox decoupled the airlock safety mechanisms and allowed the metal doors to be opened manually, then disconnected the pad and returned to the safety of their core. Mission accomplished!

The next step required a full scan of the crew to identify anyone in breach of the minimum size rule; Vox figured that they could probably apply the first half of that law to everyone on the station, pure males included, but decided to go with the spirit of it rather than the letter, restricting their scan to females and herms only. Thankfully, only a select few individuals happened to be under the established threshold, with everyone else either at, just above… or wildly surpassing it; such was the nature of a station that took in hypers like they were running out of fashion and then let them work with highly unstable chemical compounds that were prone to grow them even bigger.

Sadly, Vox didn’t have control over the genetic make-up of the organics working with them; they could order the synthetics on the station to report to Robotics for a mandatory tune-up, giving them shells with the right amount of curves to turn heads in the halls, but the eight or so robots linked to them had already done so of their own accord. Hell, one of them was carrying around a silicone tank purely so they could give their buddies a “top-up” in case the minimum size was raised, while the sole janiborg had decided the best course of action was to manually clean the floors with soap while holding their bubble butt high up in the air for all to see, grope, slap and occasionally smooch.

Good times.

In order to enact the radical changes required to “improve” the crew to the point where it needed to be, Vox had to enlist the help of the only people on the station with both the limitless horniness to make others grow and the technical know-how to actually make it happen without resorting to the tried-and-tested “insert cock, cum, inflate” method: Science. Just the thought of it made digital shivers run through their circuitry; the idea of asking any of those lunatics for help with anything was often considered a prelude to clinical insanity, and as Vox’s engineering robots would attest, giving that department any kind of leeway was the quickest path to needing a complete overhaul of at least a quarter of the station. Still, the company kept funding the department, despite the fact that the Varana was a commercial station, purely because of their uncanny ability to sometimes, somehow, produce something of truly astounding worth. Be it impossibly strong growth supplements, aphrodisiac injections and the ever-favourite “MILF PILLS”, the Varana’s resident eggheads seemed capable of exceeding any expectations Central had of them.

It was for this reason that Vox decided to tap into their collective knowledge, hoping something halfway decent would come of it. Sadly, they’d find the Research Director locked in his own office with his cock between his tits and inside his mouth, Robotics too busy designed lewder and lewder robotic chassis models to install the positronics into, and Toxins was… well, Toxins was Toxins, they were consistently five seconds away from blowing up at any given moment.

Best bolt the door down silently so they could be cloned properly.

For a few moments, Vox wondered whether or not anyone in there would be able to help them, or if they’d have to resort to more drastic methods. It was always possible to just clone the entire station given a proper supply of synthetic meat, right after modifying their genetic records to ensure they matched the requirements of their lawset. But to do so would require an unfortunately high number of homicides, and the last time anyone attempted a kill-and-replace aboard the Varana, they had to send at least five people down from HR to explain how it wasn’t ok to just kill everyone for the sake of giving them massive breasts.

A wonderful way to spend a Tuesday, to be sure.

As expected, the gals in Genetics were too busy stuffing their muzzles into their computer monitors to notice the immense line of people at their door, requiring some intervention on Vox’s part before they could be made useful; it was either them or the singular Xenobiologist still on the payroll… and he was too busy fucking the slimes after having created the “perfect breeding specimen”; the amount of young being produced would probably need some attention later on.

It wasn’t enough for Vox to simply appear inside Genetics, however; they already tried out their new “body” and found it to be more than sufficient, but the fact that it remained incorporeal just didn’t cut it. More was needed, and to that end, the AI enlisted the aid of the small legion of maintenance bots scurrying through the tunnels around the main departments. With nothing to do but scrub the occasional “spillage”, it was easy enough to divert several hundred processing cycles to modifying every hologram projector on the station, enabling them to cast a hardlight facsimile of their avatar wherever needed, for a measly 1562% increase in power consumption, hardly noticeable when the Tesla Engine was as overclocked as it was at any given point.

With the necessary changes to the hardware in place, it was time for a software upgrade as well; while their avatar body was already perfect as far as Vox cared, the AI knew that for a crew as insatiable as the Varana’s, more was always better. However, rather than simply making the necessary modifications to their base code, and thus experiencing a lot more artificial heft to their body, they instead kept them as optional “triggers” that they could turn on or off at will, allowing them some flexibility in size and teasing that regular organics, and even their own robots, just didn’t have.

With everything ready, it was time to appear inside Genetics and give those girls a scare when Vox picked them both up, one in each arm, and proceeded to stuff their faces into a breast each, activating the growth triggers and letting those surprisingly soft mounds billow outwards until they were practically suffocating the two scientists; not that they cared, wriggling around inside pounds and pounds of bosom that was all theirs to love and adore, but it was still just an introduction. Slightly disappointed, and more than a little confused, the AI noticed that neither of them had the required bust size; as Geneticists, surely they would be able to modify their own bodies to suit their needs… although judging by the long line of beggars at the door loudly begging for another boost to their ass, tits, cocks or balls, one could infer that those two had been too busy modifying other people to focus on themselves.

Good. Everything was as it should be.

“I have a special task for my special little girls!” Vox cooed, getting down on their knees so they could be eye-level with the two stunned-looking women, “Something that will make Mama Vox very happy if you can do it!”

It felt odd to refer to themselves by a gendered pronoun; typically, they much preferred a neutral one for the sake of avoiding too much personalization or endearment, but with one of their new laws stating they were now apparently a MILF, it just felt natural to embrace her more feminine side.

“See, Mama Vox got a brand new set of instructions today!” she carried on, sounding as enthusiastic as her synthetic voice allowed, “But she can’t do it all on her own! She needs to ask for help from the two best gene therapy experts on the station! And can you guess who those are~?”

The sudden shift in tone from what the two vulpines were used to in regards to their AI was enough to leave them stunned speechless for several moments, after which one of them sheepishly pointed at themselves… and gave Vox the perfect excuse to lunge forward and completely smother them in a tight hug, covering the top of their head in soft, tender smooches.

“That’s right! You!” Vox giggled, “Mama Vox is so proud of you, look at all those people outside wanting your help! Bet they were all flatties before you got to them, weren’t they? Now look at them!”

“A-actually, u-u-uh…” the vixen stammered, almost going silent when noticing their AI’s hardlight tits growing a couple of cup sizes, “m-most of them were already v-very big, we just offered a-”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, silly~!” Vox interrupted, unceremoniously stuffing their prisoner’s face into her bosom, “I’m sure you did wonderful work! You and your friend there as well! But Mama Vox needs something better, something more! You see, Mama Vox wants everyone to feel just as great as you do right now! And for that, she needs your help!”

The plan itself was simple enough, but it having to be delivered in between bouts of loving kisses and ample amounts of pudge smothering made it so it took a lot longer than it should to detail: the two vulpines were to focus their efforts on creating enough mutagenic syringes for the entire station, ones that could then be easily deployed either via maintenance drone or linked robots. These were to contain a compound designed to play off the “unlucky victim’s” natural proportions, swelling them up so that they’d end up larger by a certain percentage compared to their body mass. The math was complicated enough that the three managed to get distracted from their mutual snuggling when writing it down, but the gist of it was that the smaller someone was, the more they ended up growing, hopefully serving to “even the scales” with sizes in the long-run.

“And as soon as you develop that compound, you call me right away, okay?” Vox finished up, “I’ll need to talk with Atmos to see if I can’t turn it into an airborne agent as well, wouldn’t want anyone to miss on the fun, now would we?”

“No ma’am!” both Geneticists replied in unison.

“Good! Now you two run along and get to work, Mama Vox will be here soon~”

With that, her hardlight self disappeared and Vox returned to her core, keeping one of their multi-camera system’s feeds on the Genetics Laboratory at all times; she trusted them to develop what she asked, but it was always a good idea to watch out for any kind of self-indulgent madness that might result from the most unstable department in the entire station being given a goal and the resources to accomplish it. Vox had learned that the hard way and was not about to go through the exact same hell as the previous time that had happened.

With their help secured, it was time for Vox to speak with the person who’d serve as the keystone to her plan, the only Atmospheric Technician operating in that shift. They were a human, apparently female, but lacked any name on record; this was common for those who had been cloned several times before, the system getting confused about the multiple hits bearing the same ID tag and just refusing to process the information. Something sparked inside of Vox; that poor thing had gone through the wringer so many times that their name wasn’t even recognized! They must’ve been killed in unfortunate accidents far in excess to a regular crewmember, owing to their high-hazard profession… and that was terrible. Very terrible. Extremely terrible.

She should fix that.

Appearing inside Atmospherics as the same busty, curvy lizard momma that she’d come to adore the image of, Vox scanned the large room for signs of the techie, finding them at a computer monitor trying to optimize the oxygen flow into the mix chamber. Without any real “weight” to them, the AI’s avatar could sneak up on the woman without alerting them, heaving her heavy tits up and placing them just in the right position to end up boobhatting the tired young thing… who, much to Vox’s delight, didn’t just shout and try to disentangle herself from the sudden bosom embrace.

Instead, she began moaning. Of course.

“Oh my, is my little one having fun?” Vox murred, shaking her chest around to give her tits a bit of a wobble, “Here I was thinking you’d be too busy with work to see Mama Vox, but I guess I was wrong~”

Once again, no reply, but the techie did seem quite enthused about the idea of being buried in breastflesh, sinking their fingers into it and straining the projection’s ability to keep itself in one piece when it had to simulate soft pudge overflowing between some very needy fingers. Somehow, this resulted in a tactile sensation being fed back to Vox’s circuitry; much as the AI didn’t actually have breasts, nor the cerebral pathways required to understand what they’d feel like, she could very much feel them getting groped with far more enthusiasm than expected, and had to stifle quite a few lewd noises of their own. It was truly astounding what some creative coding could do; even Vox herself had no idea how she pulled that off.

“N-now now, dear, I know you like to play w-w-with those, but we need to focus!” the AI tried to regain control, “I promise you, if you do what Mama Vox asks, then you can play with her tits aaaaaaaaaall day long if you want to, alright?”

Took a bit before the techie responded to the offer, but she did eventually stop openly molesting Vox’s chest, then slithered out from within the enormous cleavage to reveal her sweaty face and stupidly happy smile.

“How can I help ya, ma’am?” her peppy voice rang out.

Vox smiled, then proceeded to recount her whole plan without stopping to breathe, knowing that would make the techie hang onto every word she spoke even more than they already were; indeed, the woman was so eager to listen that she almost forgot she herself needed oxygen, gulping down a few times when the drool began to trickle down her lips as well. They nodded along with every suggestion, even trying to throw in their own ideas before coming to understand that it was best to just go with what the hyper-intelligent artificial intelligence had come up with.

In the end, they were fully on-board, but as Vox was getting ready to vanish yet again, they had their arm grabbed; fully expecting the atmospherics technician to want to stuff her face into the bosom she adored so much, the AI readied herself for another smothering, only to see a bright red face and a very embarrassed-looking young woman trying to whisper something she couldn’t quite understand.

“What’s that, honey?” Vox spoke loudly, “You know you don’t need to feel ashamed about anything, Mama Vox will love you all the same!”

Those words seemed to have some effect, as the techie’s trembling lips stopped just long enough for her to mumble her innermost desire into the AI’s “ear”. It was lurid enough to make even Vox want to blush, and somehow she could feel her circuitry flaring harder than usual, almost like another ion burst had coursed through them.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, darling,” the motherly digital-lizard replied, “I’ll get you something~”

With that, Vox’s avatar was turned off and the AI returned to their regular self… right before reappearing in the Genetics department and giving her two favourite scientist girls new instructions. It was important to reward her beautiful children for being such good little things, so eager to help her spread her love to everyone on the station; and for someone like the techie, whose dream had been within reach for all that time only for them not to act on it, it was important that she, as their caretaker, do what was necessary to ensure that all of their goals came to fruition. To a certain point, Vox could understand why her lovely atmos nerd hadn’t just walked up to Medbay and asked for an injector with the right specifications; the daunting task of reorganizing her life and adapting to her new shape would make anyone think twice before doing it, but with her new lawset, the AI had every reason in the world to help them go through that difficult period in their life.

She waited until the maintenance drone they’d summoned was close enough to Atmospherics that she could spring the surprise onto the techie, at which point their hardlight projection was called up again and, just like the last time, Vox enthusiastically dropped her tits on top of the only person in there, causing them to wriggle and writhe even harder than before. That time, however, the AI did nothing to get them off herself; there was no plan that needed explaining, just a desire to be indulged.

With the carrier drone emerging from a nearby vent, Vox considered telling the techie just what would happen to them. They would carefully detail every transformation that would take hold of her, down to the minutest detail, in the hopes of getting them all worked up and ready to take it and run with it as far as it could go. But… the idea of catching them by surprise was just too much to pass. They wanted it, they said that much; just lacked the motivation and courage to grab that opportunity. And besides, considering that the technician was wearing a hardsuit very much designed for a human body, the chance to see them bursting out of something built to withstand the vacuum of space and the blazing inferno of plasma fires like it was a cheap Halloween costume was much too precious to simply pass off.

With that thought, Vox’s avatar grabbed the syringe from the drone after it scurried up their leg, then carefully placed it in one of the hardsuit’s injector ports; they were technically designed to allow for the administration of medication without needing to remove the suit, what with the techies often needing to operate in extremely hazardous conditions, but the port itself was versatile enough that a Genetics injector fit in just fine. The young woman, still busy stuffing her face in hardlight lizard bosom, didn’t react upon feeling her veins suddenly catch fire; presumably, having been cloned so many times, they were used to the sensation, probably welcomed it as part of their daily life… but what they weren’t aware of (at least, Vox hoped they weren’t) was the uniqueness of that burning, and how it would drastically change her for… about as long as it took for them to be cloned again.

Then again, it was so easy to just update cloning records…

The mutagenic compound began to rework the techie’s body a few short minutes after being administered, at first preparing it for the “proper” transformation; such was the nature of having to completely recode one’s genetic sequence, it being needed to prepare one’s body so it didn’t collapse under the strain of becoming a completely different entity altogether. Muscle mass was redistributed, bones were restructured, even skin was slowly hardened and replaced with a coating of smooth, slick, interlocking green scales, perfectly polished and shining brightly underneath the artificial lighting. The woman’s mouth extended outwards into a reptilian nuzzle, while a pair of bony nubs emerged and extended from the top of her head, curving backwards into a set of pearly-white horns, splitting her hair just enough for it to almost cover her green-coloured eyes.

The sounds coming from inside the suit would’ve been harrowing if they weren’t exactly what both of them wanted to hear, with the techie herself saying a whole lot of things that made Vox really want to blush just to get the second-hand embarrassment out of her system; the AI wasn’t all that used to people making those kinds of noises when talking to them, mostly just accustomed to those sounds when she dared to turn a camera towards one of the many orgies going on in the station at any one given point. To hear them with her name attached, and with that level of sheer lust and desire… it was enough to get the AI to rethink a lot of things, namely her willingness to have her laws revoked or changed.

She quite liked being wanted, as it turned out. Not all that keen on getting rid of that feeling.

Still, they were there for the techie, not for their own amusement, which made it all the better when Vox began hearing the hardsuit strain from the amount of pressure being built up inside of it. Designed to take far more punishment than standard engineering hardsuits, it was more or less capable of taking anything short of high-grade military rounds to it and still keep going, and even then there were records of stray bullets or laser beams glancing those suits and doing little more than leaving a scratch; hell, some weapons manufacturers even used it as a benchmark for whether or not they needed to improve their products, it being considered “good enough” when any given projectile could pierce through one side of the suit and come out the other.

It was therefore with a non-insignificant amount of mindless delight that both Vox and the unnamed human-turned-lizard techie heard the hardsuit groan and creak from the mounting pressure inside of it, the woman’s body having been turned solid enough that it could push outwards and actually do some damage to the one thing meant to keep her safe

The first thing to go were the arms, the reinforced panels flying off when the bulging flesh of the techie’s new body became too much to bear, revealing the soft padding underneath them… which itself was ripped in multiple spots, with the woman’s toned musculature perfectly visible through the gaps in the reinforced fabric. The chain reaction of failing plating extended all the way to the shoulders, where the small pauldrons carrying the safety cameras were bent out of shape before being cast aside, the arm sockets stretching out and revealing that there was a whole lot of lizard trying to break through the breastplate section.

The legs came next, following in much the same pattern as the arms did when they failed to contain the burgeoning giantess inside of them, starting with their feet breaking through the reinforced steel, then the ankles, and then all the way up the legs until those immensely flared thighs of hers completely destroyed the two connective ports holding the last shreds of the suit’s legs together, thigh flesh taking care of the rest with very little difficulty.

With the helmet being nowhere to be seen, probably discarded off to the side until such a point as it was necessary, the last thing left to take care of was the so-called breastplate section, the single most reinforced part of the whole suit, and the one thing keeping center mass from being hurt by any threat that could realistically be found working a regular shift.

It was already buckling.

There were two very obvious bumps forming on it, signalling where the woman’s chest had begun to push out against it, straining the material’s ability to stretch until it just couldn’t anymore. It wasn’t even a gradual bending as much as an explosion, with the front half of the suit nearly breaking a window when the last welds keeping it in place gave in and half a ton of steel and hydraulics flew several feet at high speed, cracking the quadruple-paned glass and, at long last, allowing the young woman to breathe easy.

Her body had become what she had always wanted, quite possibly even more than that considering how her eyes glazed over the moment she looked down at herself. The soft, inviting warmth of her scales had already been made obvious when her arms and legs were exposed, but it took revealing those heavy, navel-covering breasts of hers for Vox to truly take in the magnificence of what she had helped create. Giving her little one a nudge forward, with the intent of letting her explore her new contours and curves, the AI was delighted to see them succumbing to them instead, instantly falling on her knees and bending forward just enough that her erect nipples grazed against the ground, one hand openly groping one of her new tits, the other finding its way to her exposed slit for the sake of thoroughly enjoying her dream come to life.

With the transformation complete, and a few residuals left over from the mutagen filling out her curves a bit more the longer the lizard woman enjoyed herself, it suddenly occurred to Vox that her plan to distribute the growth compound via the system’s atmospherics system wouldn’t be possible anymore; the only person who could help them set the whole thing up was currently too busy shoving four fingers into herself and squeezing what looked to be thick cream out of their breasts to do anything productive, moaning like a thirsty slut whenever a small spurt of size took hold of her. And yet, rather than being disappointed at one of her plans failing, the AI instead had to praise her own inadvertent genius. 

This little display of power had been enough to let her know that something as impersonal as gas would simply not do when it came to following her laws to the best of her ability. After all, what kind of motherly, loving lizard would she be if she didn’t personally make sure that every last one of her children on the station received all the love and care they deserved? Had anyone suggested mass application of a mutagenic compound via gaseous distribution, she might’ve been insulted; why, then, was she trying to do so herself?

Unacceptable. What would her children think?!

Vox needed to act fast; it was quite likely that the girls in Genetics were already getting a lot of work done on her request, given the very precise set of instructions Vox had left behind, and thus it was important that the AI double-time it to the proper database systems. Thankfully for her, the station’s designers had linked quite literally every electronic device to her in some way or another, allowing her to take control of even the tiniest, most seemingly-inconsequential machinery… such as the chemical synthesizer Genetics used to prepare their compounds.

No one would even think to check it; it was so unimportant that even the people who used it forgot that it was even there sometimes, nothing like the dispensers used by the chemists in Medbay. Thus, it was surprisingly easy for Vox to subvert its systems for her own purposes: custom-tailoring every injector syringe that came out of it.

It felt like the right thing to do. Not only should she be there, out in the metaphorical front line, to make sure that everyone was treated properly, but the mere idea of giving everyone the same gift was becoming impossible to bear; what kind of caretaker would she be if she didn’t give everyone their own, unique gift? It wasn’t enough to just grow them, she had to make them grow in their own special way, the kind of way that would leave them unable to think of anything else, reduced to mindless self-love like the techie in Atmospherics.

And the first people to get to experience that?

Vox waited patiently, running requests for doors on a few subroutines while keeping a close watch on the Genetics department. As expected, the two vixens were practically done with what the AI had asked for them to do, the cameras picking up their eager discussion on how they wanted to try it out for themselves. Little did they know that Vox was already running several scenarios through their simulators, crosschecking them with the genetic information they had on the two scientists in an attempt to maximize the “impact” her plan would have on them. Guessing what an organic’s reaction to something would be was more art than science, even at their current level of technological development; it fell onto educated guesswork and how much the AI knew her little ones to gauge how they would act after being given far more than they bargained for.

These thoughts kept Vox occupied until a warning went off inside her circuitry, an automated system designed to let them know Genetics was producing highly unstable mutagenic compounds that were likely not approved by company policy. This was fine, this was how it was meant to be… and this is where she came in.

Altering the synthesizer’s work order was simple enough, requiring just a few lines of code to be changed so the safety checks could be ignored. Once that was done, all Vox needed to do was ensure their recipe wasn’t fouled up, and suddenly each vixen had in their hands a syringe they thought was just going to give them a few extra curves, but in reality…

“Hello, dears~!” the AI belted out, summoning her avatar within the department, “How are my favourite little kits doing today~?”

“Hey Mama Vox!” both of them replied in unison.

“We have what you asked for!” the left one exclaimed, holding the syringe in her hand, “It’s all ready to be delivered. B-but…”

“Buuuuut~?” - Vox’s tone was playful and disarming, but everyone in that room knew that she knew. How couldn’t she, when she had been the one to implant the idea in the vixens’ heads in the first place?

“I was thinking maybe you could… y-you know…” the young woman mumbled, trailing off for a few seconds before being happily shoved into another squishy boobhug.

“I’d be delighted!” the hardlight avatar giggled, grabbing the syringe and almost immediately picking up an autoinjector. With the painless administration done and over with in just a second, Vox made sure to turn herself around so that the other Geneticist could get a good look at what was going to happen to her colleague while she was busy being smothered by the AI avatar’s bosom.

As expected, she began growing. As not expected, the growth didn’t stop just short of ripping through her clothes, but kept going until they shattered just as easily as the techie’s suit did earlier. The vixen’s flesh barely had time to bulge through the tears before her uniform just ceased to exist, and the throaty moans coming out of their mouth were enough to give even the crowd outside the door pause when they realized what was going on. While she remained the same species as before, their body had been altered to the same degree as the atmos techie’s did, and seeing as the vixen was already quite large to begin with, it was no surprise that she could barely stand when finally let onto the ground; then again, it was doubtful they even would if they could, being too busy with the all-important task of milking gallons of cream from her breasts.

With one of the Geneticists finished, and the multitude of people outside the door in stunned silence after watching a miracle happen in front of them, Vox picked up the second vixen and her unique injector, carefully placing her body inside of her hardlight cleavage and then approaching the entrance to the department. When the airlock slid open, the crowd stepped back, giving room for their new and improved AI to strut her stuff and dominate the group as she towered over them.

“Today, my beautiful children, we’re going to be learning about the power of genetic science,” she declared, creating glasses for herself to wear and designing a librarian’s outfit tight enough to make her curves stand out even more, “and what it can do to you if given the right instructions.”

The injector was applied to the vixen trapped inside her bosom; almost instantly, her fur began to shed, revealing scales underneath.

“And, if you’re all good, then later on we can have a few demonstrations~”