Samus Aran

It was rare for Samus’s ship to break down, and rarer still that it was a problem she couldn’t fix by herself. But she had encountered a problem with her spacecraft that couldn’t be solved while floating through the solar system, so she had little choice but to bring it down for more in-depth repairs. Unfortunately, she had ended up in a repair station filled with a gaggle of slack-jawed creeps who couldn’t even pretend they weren’t ogling Samus like a cut of fresh meat. Well, at the end of the day they were only human.

Samus was wearing her ultra-tight Zero Suit, a masterclass of technology that allowed her to exert a full range of movements while also protecting her from some of the worst that the galaxy had to offer. As a side bonus, it happened to fit around Samus’s figure like a glove, showing off her ludicrous curves for all to see. The lecherous eyes of the mechanics were locked onto her heaving, bountiful tits that practically jiggled with every breath she took, and her mouth-watering bimbo-sized ass-cheeks that would make every dancer in the galaxy jealous. Samus had the kind of dumptruck PAWG ass that stopped traffic, and her Zero Suit only made her luscious shelf of perfect booty-meat look all the more pornographic. “Eh-heh…M-Miss Aran, umm, I…well…I mean…” The head mechanic walked over, hunched over to try and hide the boner that Samus had given him. He was failing to do so. Samus sneered at the greasy old pig as he bowed down low, attempting to look apologetic but clearly continuing to stare at the way Samus’s huge tits were held up nice and firm by her powerful outfit.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you while you’re mumbling.” Samus remarked. The head mechanic gulped, sweating in the presence of sheer sexuality itself.

“Ohh…it’s just…mmm…we’ve found a few more things wrong with your ship than we expected…sooooo the original estimate is gonna be a little…wrong.” The head mechanic grinned, but his eyes were roaming all over Samus. “B-But maybe we can work out…s-some kind of deal…”

Typical. The man’s instincts were demanding he do everything in his power to get into Samus’s pants, up to and including offering a free repair job if he managed to get a free blow job. Would probably try and get all his leering goons a quick go at her as well. It was hardly the first time Samus had been propositioned, and she thought to end this one in the same way as most: a swift boot to the face and a reminder that Samus had dealt with more dangerous things than a gang of horned-up mechanics before she had even eaten breakfast that day. But the head mechanic’s face was spared the feel of Samus’s heeled rocket boot when a large hand clapped down on his tiny shoulder.