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Operator Bezos_J5678_667 was entranced by the newly bumpulent form of the now zero atmosphere capable deploymanoid, supine and sedated on the enhancement couch before him.

Moments previous, his multi-enhancer nozzle had been deep within the dermal layers of its chestal prominence ... though prominence was a poor word for such a monotonous planar uniformity.

Now though, now there were proud peaks of fish-white Muskflesh, hiding the twin n-dimensional UtiliBez modules that would enable this living weapon to survive and thrive in the loveless embrace of the void. His groin drones hummed noisily for a moment, and a sensation flashed through what remained of his lower brainstem like a late-Earth hunter-greyhound variant scavenging body parts under heavy peacedrone fire. Secondary processing catalogued it as lust.

He made a mental note to speak of this to Operator Musk_X234_889, his truce-tethered everlife companion, at their next sustenance and strategic planning session for their eternal war against Instigator Bezos_B112_346 and Instigator Musk_A335_112. Then there would be backrubs.

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