Skip to content
Sign in
Artwork for Thrust Vector
FictionExplicit

Thrust Vector

Zee

Some barriers are meant to be broken.

Dr. Zee Lim has spent four years and most of a fortune building the X-1 Vector — a supersonic jet his investors call impossible and his own engineers call suicide. He intends to fly it himself.

Ana Wang has spent four days at her new job. When AeroTech Today sends her out to the Mojave to interview him, she arrives late, nervous, and holding her laptop bag like a shield.

She leaves with a story she can never publish.

Play
Open in
  • 6 episodes
  • weekly
  • Avg 15 min
  • English

Episodes 6

NewestOldestLongest
All6Unplayed6In progress0Played0
  • S2 · E1
    Yesterday · 17 min

    06 - Suspension

    Chapter Six. Suspension. This time, he arranged her in an inverted position — her head lower than her body, with her legs spread and secured to anchor points above. The rush of blood to her head created a dizzying sensation that was both disorienting and oddly exhilarating. “Inversion changes everything about how your body processes sensation,” Zee explained, checking each connection carefully. “The altered blood flow intensifies nerve responses, making even light touches feel more intense.” To demonstrate, he ran a single finger along her inner thigh, and Ana gasped at the unexpected intensity of the sensation. The light touch sent sparks through her entire body, amplified by her inverted state. “See what I mean?” Zee said with a satisfied smile. “The inverted position also creates interesting possibilities for oral stimulation.” He positioned himself beneath her, his face level with her hips. The angle was completely different from what she’d experienced before, and when his tongue touched her, the sensation was overwhelming. Each movement seemed directly connected to every nerve ending in her body, creating a cascade of pleasure that left her trembling. “This position allows for deeper penetration with the tongue,” Zee explained, pausing between licks. “The gravity shift changes how blood pools in the tissues, increasing sensitivity.” Ana could barely process his words, lost in the overwhelming sensations. His technique was masterful — alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and precise movements against her clit, occasionally penetrating her with a finger to add another dimension of stimulation. “Your responses are exceeding expectations,” Zee noted, observing her reactions with clinical detachment. “Heart rate elevated by sixty-five percent, respiration increased by forty percent. Orgasmic threshold approaching rapidly.” The clinical observation somehow intensified the experience — she wasn’t just having sex, she was being studied, analyzed, her every response cataloged and measured. The combination of vulnerability and scrutiny was intoxicating. When her orgasm hit, it was more intense than any she’d experienced before. The inverted position seemed to amplify every sensation, each wave of pleasure cresting higher than the last. She couldn’t arch her back or move away from the stimulation — completely at the mercy of Zee’s ministrations. “Multiple orgasmic peaks detected,” Zee observed, continuing his stimulation through each wave of pleasure. “System responding well to extended input.” Only when Ana was limp with exhaustion did he cease his ministrations, carefully lowering her from the inverted position and releasing her restraints. She collapsed against him, her mind reeling from the intensity of the experience. “How do you feel?” he asked, wrapping her in a heated blanket. “Deconstructed,” Ana managed, her voice barely a whisper. “Like every nerve ending has been rewired.” “That’s the goal of this space,” Zee replied, carrying her to a nearby shower area. “To push beyond perceived limitations and discover what’s truly possible.” The shower was luxurious, with multiple showerheads and temperature controls that allowed for precise customization. Zee adjusted the settings before helping her inside, the warm water a welcome sensation against her sensitized skin. “This is where we process the experience,” he explained, taking the soap and beginning to wash her body with gentle, deliberate movements. “The aftercare is as important as the main event — it helps integrate the physical and psychological aspects of the encounter.” Ana relaxed into his touch, her body responding to the gentle cleansing. His movements were methodical — working from top to bottom, ensuring every part of her body received attention. The clinical precision he’d applied during their encounter was now transformed into tender care.

  • S1 · E5
    August 22 · 23 min

    05 - Failure Mode

    Chapter Five. Failure Mode. The screech of tearing metal echoed through the hangar, followed by a collective gasp from the engineering team. Ana stood beside Zee, watching as the wing mockup twisted under hydraulic pressure, the composite fibers delaminating in an ugly spiral pattern. “Stop the test,” Zee commanded, his voice tight with controlled fury. “Now.” The technician at the controls slammed the emergency button, bringing the hydraulic press to an abrupt halt. Silence descended on the test bay, broken only by the creaking of stressed materials settling. Zee approached the damaged mockup, his expression unreadable. He ran a hand along the torn composite, his fingers tracing the pattern of failure with scientific detachment. “Fiber separation initiated at stress concentration point three B,” he said to the gathered engineers. “The adhesive bond failed before the carbon fiber itself.” He looked at the lead engineer. “Run the simulation again. I want to see exactly where the theoretical divergence began.” The next three days were a blur of activity — computer simulations, material analysis, redesign proposals. Ana worked alongside Zee, her notebook filled with technical details that would have been incomprehensible to her just weeks ago. She watched as he methodically analyzed each possibility, his mind working through the problem with surgical precision. “The issue is thermal expansion differential,” Zee said finally, pointing to a data visualization on the large screen. “The aluminum alloy in the wing spar expands at a different rate than the carbon fiber skin. At supersonic speeds, the temperature differential creates enough stress to cause delamination.” “So we need to either change the materials or redesign the joint,” Ana suggested, surprising herself with how naturally the technical language now came to her. Zee turned to look at her, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Or both. What would you suggest?” That night, they found themselves at a secluded airstrip miles from the city — the property of one of Zee’s wealthy aviation enthusiasts who preferred privacy to public recognition. The moon was barely visible through the coastal fog, creating an eerie glow around the maintenance vehicle parked near the hangar. “I come here to think when problems get complex,” Zee said, opening the back of the large van to reveal a set of restraints bolted to the floor. “Sometimes the best solutions come when you’re not consciously thinking about the problem.” Ana recognized the look in his eyes — the same one she’d seen before he pushed her to new limits. “What did you have in mind?” “A demonstration of structural principles,” Zee replied, selecting a set of leather cuffs from a compartment in the van. “Specifically, how materials respond to different forms of stress.” Ana removed her clothes without being asked, the cool night air raising goosebumps on her skin. Zee secured her wrists to anchor points on either side of the van’s rear doors, spreading her arms wide. He then used spreader bars on her ankles, forcing her legs apart in a wide stance that left her completely exposed and vulnerable. “This position creates tension across multiple planes simultaneously,” Zee explained, running a flashlight beam across her body as if conducting an inspection. “Your shoulders, back, and thigh muscles are all engaged in maintaining stability.” The beam paused at her breasts. “Nipples erect — response to temperature differential. Normal.” Ana shivered as the cool night air combined with the deliberate clinical nature of his examination. She felt like an aircraft being readied for testing — valued not for her personality but for her structural capabilities and response patterns.

  • S1 · E4
    August 15 · 24 min

    04 - Load Bearing

    Chapter Four. Load Bearing. The boardroom at Vector Aerospace was designed to intimidate — from the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Los Angeles to the mahogany table polished to a mirror finish. Zee sat at the head of the table, his posture relaxed but his mind calculating as he fielded questions from investors who collectively controlled more capital than some small countries. “The projected operational costs don’t align with current market conditions,” said a man in a bespoke suit whose name Ana had already forgotten. “Supersonic travel over land remains banned in most territories. Who’s going to pay for speed they can’t use?” “That’s like asking who would buy a sports car with a two hundred miles per hour speed limit in a city,” Zee replied, his tone patient but firm. “The innovation isn’t just about speed — it’s about efficiency. The X one Vector’s fuel consumption at Mach one point two is actually lower than conventional subsonic jets at their cruising altitude.” He gestured to the presentation on the screen. “We’ve fundamentally changed the economics of supersonic flight.” Ana sat to Zee’s right, ostensibly taking notes but actually observing the dynamic in the room. She’d spent the past two weeks immersed in the technical aspects of the X one Vector, her articles evolving from basic journalism to in-depth analysis that impressed even the most skeptical engineers at Vector. Her byline was gaining recognition in the aerospace community. “What about the structural integrity concerns?” another investor piped up. “Last quarter’s stress tests showed concerning fatigue patterns in the composite materials.” Zee’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “We’ve addressed those concerns with a new carbon nanotube reinforcement matrix. The latest data shows a thirty-seven percent increase in structural resilience without significant weight penalty.” “But the increased manufacturing costs — ” the first investor began. “That’s where you’re wrong,” a new voice interrupted. Everyone turned to the door where Ana stood, having slipped out during the presentation. She’d changed from her conservative suit into something more form-fitting — a charcoal dress that hugged her curves without revealing too much. “The nanotube matrix reduces overall material usage by twelve percent, offsetting the initial investment in the new manufacturing process. Over the aircraft’s lifecycle, it saves approximately two point three million dollars per unit.” The room fell silent. Zee watched Ana with barely concealed admiration as she continued. “Additionally,” she said, addressing the first investor directly, “the Vector’s range makes supersonic travel over land unnecessary for most high-value routes. London to New York, Dubai to Singapore, Los Angeles to Tokyo — none of those require crossing populated landmasses. The market isn’t just about speed; it’s about transforming how global business operates.” The investors exchanged glances, impressed despite themselves. “The magazine has been very generous with their access,” Zee said, breaking the silence. “Ms. Wang has spent more hours with our engineering team than some of our board members.” “I believe in the project,” Ana said simply, meeting Zee’s eyes with a look that held layers of meaning only they understood. “And in the person leading it.” The meeting concluded with significantly more confidence from the investors than it had begun. As they filed out, Zee approached Ana, stopping just short of touching her. “That was unexpected,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “You looked like you needed backup,” Ana replied, her eyes sparkling. “Besides, I’ve been studying. I know this aircraft almost as well as you do.” “Almost,” Zee corrected, his gaze dropping to her lips. “But your passion for the subject is... compelling.”

  • S1 · E3
    August 8 · 11 min

    03 - Laminar Flow

    Chapter Three. Laminar Flow. The wind tunnel facility hummed with the sound of massive fans and circulating air, a mechanical heartbeat that Ana could feel in her bones. Zee had arranged for a private demonstration after hours, the cavernous space empty except for the two of them and the sleek model of the X one Vector mounted in the test section. “Laminar flow is the holy grail of aerodynamics,” Zee explained, pointing to the smoke visualization system. “When air moves smoothly over a surface without mixing, drag is minimized. Watch what happens when we introduce a disturbance.” He pressed a button, and a small actuator deployed from the model’s wing. The previously smooth smoke lines immediately broke into chaotic swirls, creating turbulence that increased drag dramatically. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Zee said, turning to face Ana. “The transition from order to chaos. The way a single disruption changes everything.” His eyes swept over her body as if she were another aerodynamic surface to be analyzed. “Your article mentioned the challenges of managing shock wave formation at transonic speeds.” Ana nodded, her notebook ready but untouched in her hands. “The pressure differential can cause structural failures. Your design uses adaptive camber to manage the transition.” “Exactly,” Zee said, stepping closer. “The same way bodies adapt to manage transitions.” He reached out to trace the line of her collarbone. “Some resist change, creating stress points. Others yield, finding strength through flexibility.” Ana stood perfectly still, her breathing shallow. Since their flight, their encounters had progressed from text messages to phone calls to increasingly intense rendezvous. She had found herself anticipating his touch with a hunger that both frightened and excited her. “I have something for you,” Zee said, pulling a small box from his jacket. “A souvenir from your test flight.” Inside lay a silver necklace with a small airplane pendant. “Thank you,” Ana said, her fingers trembling as she took it from him. “Let me,” Zee offered, moving behind her to fasten the clasp. His breath warmed her neck as his fingers brushed against her skin. “Perfect. Now you’re always carrying a piece of the sky with you.” His hands remained on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing small circles against her shoulder blades. “What you don’t understand about aerodynamics, Ana, is that the most efficient designs often look violent.” “Violent?” Ana questioned, turning her head slightly. “Yes,” he said, his hands sliding down her arms. “The sharp angles, the sudden changes in surface — they’re what allow an aircraft to slip through the air with minimal resistance.” His fingers circled her wrists. “The same principle applies to pleasure. Sometimes the most direct path is through what appears to be chaos.” He tightened his grip, pulling her hands behind her back. “Tonight, we’re going to explore turbulent flow in more detail.” He produced a set of leather cuffs from his pocket, deftly securing her wrists. “Do you trust me, Ana?” She hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.” “Good answer,” Zee said, securing a blindfold over her eyes. “Because tonight, you’re going to experience something even more disorienting than flight in turbulence.” He led her from the wind tunnel facility to his car, the journey a sensory puzzle of engine sounds, changing pressure, and the occasional brush of his hand against her bare skin. His apartment was minimalist and expensive, with panoramic views of the city lights below. But Ana couldn’t see any of it. Instead, she experienced it through touch — the cool leather of the couch beneath her, the warmth of Zee’s hands as he undressed her, the slight chill of air against her exposed skin. “On your knees,” Zee commanded, positioning her on a plush rug in the center of the living room.

  • S1 · E2
    August 1 · 7 min

    02 - Trim and Attitude

    Chapter Two. Trim and Attitude. The Cessna one eighty-two Skylane climbed steadily above the Los Angeles basin, leaving behind the brown haze that clung to the city like a shroud. Ana sat in the passenger seat, her hands clenched in her lap, her knuckles white despite her attempts to appear composed. The week since their interview had been a blur of research, writing, and increasingly explicit text messages from Zee. “Afraid of heights?” Zee asked, his eyes scanning the horizon as he adjusted the plane’s trim. “No,” Ana replied, her voice thin. “Just not used to leaving the ground without a security briefing and a seatbelt sign.” Zee laughed, a sound that still made her stomach clench. “Life’s too short for seatbelt signs, Ana. The best experiences happen when you’re flying by the seat of your pants.” He banked the plane into a gentle turn, the landscape tilting below them. “Tell me what you learned about supersonic flight this week.” She recited facts she’d memorized from engineering journals, her academic knowledge now mingled with personal experience. “At Mach one, shock waves form at the leading edges of the aircraft. The pressure differential can reach twenty pounds per square foot — enough to tear apart a conventional fuselage.” “Excellent,” Zee said, reaching into the storage compartment between the seats. “Now let’s talk about pressure differentials of a more personal nature.” He pulled out a silk scarf — Hermès, of course — and a blindfold. “Ever joined the mile-high club, Ana?” Her pulse quickened. “I’ve barely joined the ground-level club.” “Well, today’s your initiation,” Zee said, handing her the scarf. “And unlike the X one Vector, this aircraft has already been thoroughly tested and approved for... unconventional flight maneuvers.” He guided the plane into a smooth ascent, leveling off at eight thousand five hundred feet. “Now, put this on.” She hesitated for only a moment before tying the silk scarf around her own eyes. The darkness that enveloped her was immediate and disorienting. She could feel the plane’s vibrations more intensely now, hear the engine’s drone more clearly, and feel Zee’s presence as if it had substance. “Good girl,” he said, his voice seeming to come from everywhere at once. “Now, the seatbelt can come off.” She heard the click of her own buckle releasing, felt his fingers brushing against her waist as he undid it. “Hands on the dashboard.” Ana complied, her palms flat against the curved surface in front of her. She heard Zee adjusting his own seat, then the rustle of clothing. When he spoke again, his mouth was close to her ear. “Supersonic flight requires understanding flow dynamics — the way air moves over surfaces,” he said, his hand sliding up her thigh. “The same principles apply to other kinds of flows.” His fingers traced the edge of her panties through the thin fabric of her skirt. “Do you feel that, Ana? The way your body responds to stimulus?” She nodded, unable to form words as his fingers found her clit, circling it with maddening lightness. “That’s laminar flow,” Zee continued, his other hand unbuttoning her blouse. “Smooth, predictable. But what we’re really interested in is turbulence — the chaotic, unpredictable patterns that generate both drag and lift.” He pinched her nipple, hard enough to make her gasp. “Now, I want you to show me how you handle turbulence.” His hands guided her head down toward his lap, where she found him already hard and waiting. The unfamiliar combination of the aircraft’s movement and the blindfold heightened every sensation — the heat of his skin against her lips, the slight saltiness of his pre-come, the way the plane’s occasional jostles changed the angle and depth of her movements.

  • S1 · E1
    July 25 · 9 min

    01 - Tolerances

    Chapter One. Tolerances. The Mojave sun bleached everything white, including Zee Lim’s shirt and the hangar floor that stretched like an infinite slab of poured concrete. Heat shimmered off the aluminum skeleton of what would soon become the X one Vector, a supersonic jet designed to bend both economics and physics. Zee’s mind cataloged the rivets, the composite materials, the precise angle of the swept wings — a calculus of thrust and resistance that mirrored the dance of domination he perfected after hours. “The tolerance on that skin panel is still off by two millimeters,” Zee called out, his voice carrying authority but not anger. He ran a hand through perfectly tousled black hair, the kind that looked effortlessly styled even after twelve hours in a sweltering hangar. “Mike, get the laser level. If we don’t get this perfect, we’ll have a million-dollar paperweight that can’t break Mach one without shaking itself apart.” Mike, a burly mechanic with grease permanently embedded under his fingernails, nodded deferentially. Zee had that effect on people. His P H D in aerospace engineering from Caltech was just the foundation; what truly commanded respect was the way he could identify a hairline fracture at fifty paces and simultaneously charm a room full of skeptical investors. Zee checked his watch — ten seventeen in the morning. The journalist from AeroTech Today was seventeen minutes late. Not that it mattered; the interview would happen on his terms, in his territory. Most journalists arrived wide-eyed, notebooks ready, intimidated by both the scale of the project and Zee’s reputation. He enjoyed watching them squirm, seeing professionalism crumble under the weight of his presence. He turned as the hangar doors squeaked open, revealing a silhouette that didn’t match his expectations. Not the seasoned reporter he’d anticipated, but a slight figure in a navy pantsuit that seemed two sizes too large. Ana Wang approached hesitantly, her laptop bag clutched like a shield against her chest. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun, emphasizing delicate features and wide, dark eyes that darted nervously around the cavernous space. “Mr. Lim? I’m Ana Wang from AeroTech Today.” Her voice was soft, almost swallowed by the hangar’s echoes. “Sorry I’m late. The GPS got confused out here.” Zee extended a hand, watching as hers trembled slightly in his grip. “Pleasure to meet me, Ana. Don’t worry about GPS — it can’t find half the places worth going.” He smiled, the kind that made women’s knees weaken everywhere from boardrooms to bedrooms. “First day on the job?” Her cheeks flushed pink. “Is it that obvious? I replaced Robert Cheng — retirement, actually.” “Cheng had sources older than the Wright brothers,” Zee said, already calculating. New journalist, inexperienced, eager to prove herself. Perfect. “Let me show you why you’re really here.” He led her toward the aircraft, deliberately walking faster than she could comfortably match in her sensible heels. She stumbled once, catching herself against a tool cart. Zee didn’t pause, knowing the discomfort would heighten her awareness of him.

Showing 1–6 of 6 episodes