A Bunnygirl Harem Space Adventure – Leo Thornvale

The med bay door was locked. Veska had locked it before I’d even sat down, a quick flick of the latch that she’d disguised as adjusting the adjacent equipment rack. She hadn’t commented on it. Neither had I. Veska applied the thermal baseline scanner to my forearm with the detached precision of a researcher working a protocol she’d designed specifically to maintain professional distance. The scanner’s blue light traced across my skin, mapping heat output at thirty-seven calibration points.

She noted each reading on her data pad with keystrokes so precise they sounded like Morse code. “Baseline thermal emission: 37.2 degrees at the radial pulse point,” she said. “Standard human-male output. Consistent with the xenobiological profiles I’ve compiled since boarding.” “You’ve been compiling profiles on me?” “On your species generally. As a xenobiological research interest.”

She adjusted her glasses. They were holding. The med bay’s filtered air kept the worst of the pollen at bay, though the bloom’s peak intensity meant nothing was entirely clear. “The individual specifics of your thermal output are documented as a subset of the broader species analysis.” “How detailed is the subset?” Her nose twitched. Once. Fast. “Comprehensively documented.” She moved the scanner to my other forearm, documenting the readings with the systematic thoroughness of someone building a data set that could withstand peer review.

Each measurement was recorded, cross-referenced against her existing profiles, and annotated with conditions: ambient temperature, humidity level, time of day. The work was genuine. The data was real. Whatever else was happening in this med bay, the scientific foundation was legitimate. “The compound application begins with the extremities,” she said, setting the scanner down and opening one of the compound containers. The substance inside was translucent, pale green, with a faint bioluminescent shimmer that caught the scanner’s blue light. “This allows for observation of the thermal masking effect in real time while maintaining control over the application sequence.”

She dipped her fingers in. The compound was cool against my skin when she began applying it to my forearm in measured strokes. Not cold. A pleasant contrast to the ship’s residual warmth. It absorbed into the skin rapidly, leaving a faint tingling sensation that faded within seconds. “The compound bonds with the outermost epidermal layer,” Veska explained, her fingers tracing along my forearm with slow, thorough passes. Her touch was clinical.

Her nose was not. The rapid twitching had resumed, her nostrils fluttering with each pass of her fingers along my skin. “It creates a chemical barrier that disrupts the three marker compounds the burrowers use for detection. Thermal emission is reduced by approximately eighty-five percent. Chemical pheromone signature is masked entirely.” She worked with systematic thoroughness, covering my forearm from wrist to elbow, ensuring the compound coated every surface.

Copyright © 2026 Leo Thornvale. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Brand and product names remain the property of their respective owners, used here for descriptive purposes without intent to infringe. No part of this book may be copied, stored, or shared in any format without prior written permission, except for brief quotes in reviews.

Content Warning & Compliance Statement This book contains explicit sexual content for mature readers only. All characters are over 18, not blood-related, and engage in fully consensual acts. Reader discretion is advised. 1kitap1.com/en CHAPTER 1: CARGO The contract paid six thousand credits for three days of work. I read the terms again on my data pad, nursing a drink that tasted like engine coolant filtered through optimism. Waystation Bravo-9’s cantina wasn’t the worst bar I’d ever sat in, but it was making a strong case for the top five.

The lighting flickered between moody amber and clinical white every thirty seconds, like the station couldn’t decide if it wanted to be a dive bar or a hospital waiting room. Six thousand credits. Four passengers. Three-day jump to the Velan system. Deliver, collect, done. The Kingfisher needed a new stabilizer assembly. The current one held together with bypass cables and a religious devotion to not looking at it too closely. Six thousand would cover a proper replacement, maybe even leave enough for the port-side thruster coupling I’d been nursing since Arcturus Station.

Simple job. Good money. I signed the contract, finished the drink, and headed for Docking Bay 14. The station corridors were the usual mix of transit traffic and maintenance crews. I passed a group of Arcturus haulers comparing scars from a rough jump, two dock workers arguing about a cargo manifest, and a station security officer who looked like he’d been awake for forty hours and had achieved a state of consciousness that transcended mere exhaustion into something philosophical.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: fd2e68692dde59d2
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,418,713 bytes (1.353 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 426
• Language: English (en)

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• Estimated Reading Time: 674.23 minutes
• Total Words: 134,846
• Total Characters: 825,087
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• Average Characters per Page: 1936.82

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