Date: Tue, 18 Aug 2020 05:43:00 +0000 (UTC)
From: David Patrick <davidtpatrickccf@aol.com>
Subject: Star Runner chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of gay-themed fiction with explicit sexual
themes; if you are not legally permitted to read such material or you are
offended by it, please leave now.

12:04 am. 7761-5-4
Ease, Ginna

  	I give my body a once over in the dark store window, making sure
everything is properly displayed, and smirk when I see that my bulge, pecs,
and of course, ass, are all prominent but not jutting obscenely out. I
glance at the lights strobing behind the next few rows of buildings,
flashing green, blue, yellow, and orange and I thank my luck that I chose
the purple shorts. These were sure to stand out against the club's color
scheme and easily get Slin's attention. If I had gone with the pink ones,
I'd have every guy in the club trying to get me wasted and in the
stalls. The mistake most guys make (even me, when I first started out) is
wearing something that draws too much attention and getting mobbed. You
want something that draws the eye and says, "say the right thing and maybe
we could go to your place later" not something that flashes like a
billboard screaming "once I'm wasted, you can take me behind the dumpsters
and pound me into the dirt!" There would be no less than five dumb asses
wearing pink thongs and knee socks, each with a group of men around them
like a pack of starving coyotes them waiting to pounce.

 	Though that might work in my favor. Those young guys may act
adventurous, but they only want free drinks and mediocre two-person sex, so
a lot of guys stay away from the throngs knowing their chances to get a
twink are slim, instead opting to admire the eye candy from afar. That's
where I come in. After the guys get bored of eye-humping the stupid teases,
their eyes inevitably wander, and they'll wander right on to my tight
shorts. But I got to say, Le Putain Quotidien will be receiving quite the
complaint on their product review page (the "FEELS LIKE IT'S NOT EVEN
THERE!!!" advert is only true in the same way that condoms don't feel like
they're there), but I'm desperate, so what the hell. The rubbery polymer
may not be comfortable but it squeezes my flesh in a way that emphasizes
the curves of my ass, but not the cleft unfortunately. To make up for it, I
have a form fitting black tank-top, that barely covers the navel and
displays my prominent pecs. I had on my black, all-terrain boots, which
weren't really made for a club scene but they were good for booking it out
of one; besides my feet weren't the main focus here.

 	I walk down the street making making quick adjustments to my
clothes and hair, I need it perfect so I can get in. When it comes to
clubs, enticing someone in the club is easy because time and intoxication
are on your side; getting in is more difficult because the bouncer is
always sober (at least in the more reputable places) and if he doesn't like
you within the first thirty seconds then you have no chance of getting in
unless you want to wait in line. I don't wait in lines. Never had to, and
probably never will. I'm a bit impatient when it comes to getting what I
want and Slin has something I want.

 	I strut up to the entrance and see a line of nicely dressed, if
average looking guys. The ones who despite their best efforts aren't suave
enough or hot enough to get past the bouncer and aren't rich enough to
bribe their way in. A few of them give me a sideways glances and a
half-dozen lips are bitten or licked in sexual hunger. A good in sign that
I could get the bouncers attention. I see the bouncer standing in front of
roped off queue, giant arms crossed. The seven foot tall behemoth was a
Teqort; no hair, amber skin, and horn-like spike running along his jaw
making his beard (I think they just describe it as beard because that's
what other species started calling it). His eyes are hidden behind a pair
of shades but I could still tell he was looking at me. As I step in front
of him he smirks.

 	"Need help with something stud?" he asks, letting me know he's
interested. Now, I just have to say my lines properly and I can make my way
inside.

 	"My friend's in there. Said he wanted to meet up for something
important and he'd be really upset if I was late" I state plainly; he
chuckles at this. You never want to come off as to nice or desperate
otherwise you'll end up on your knees in the employee break room, but act
like an ass and you'll be on the ground with something broken (probably
several with a Teqort involved). These things, like many things, are a
negotiation to see what compromises each party is willing to take. But this
situation is in public so we'll have to barter discreetly; allow me
translate.

 	"Sorry, you're not on the list hot-stuff. But, since your friend is
in there I'll see if we can get you in quickly. We'll just have to do a
full ID check in the office. (Let me and the other bouncer spit-roast you,
and we'll let you in.)"

 	"It'd take to long. I need to meet my friend soon, It'd be rude to
keep him waiting. (How about no, and you can jerk yourself to the memory of
my ass when it walks through that door.)"

 	"Well I can't just let you in without knowing who you are. How
about I bring you in and just do a quick search. It doesn't have to be too
thorough. (Fine, you can blow me. And if we have time I can get in a quick
fuck.)"

 	"I know you don't do full ID checks on everyone who comes in
here. I bet there are dozen of guys you let who are going to give you more
trouble. I won't be that long. An hour...two tops. Just do a guy a
favor. (You and I both know you have a list of underage morons who got in
with fake IDs and you and your buddies already have plans to blackmail a
bunch of barely legal virgins into getting their cherries popped. So don't
pretend you're going without and just let me in.)"

 	"You're probably right. Fine, be quick. But I'm still gonna have to
pat you down...just in case. (Alright you got me. But let me cop a feel
before you go in.)"

 	I lift up my arms to permit the big brute to feel me up to his
hearts' content. Two rough hands that could each cover my whole head began
rubbing up and down my arms before moving to my torso. His thumbs, almost
as thick as my wrist, hook under my tank-top and begin massaging my abs. A
minute later they move up to my chest where he has fun with my
nipples. Lots of fun. He presses, flicks, pinches, pulls, and twists them
for about five minutes. Fine with me, most guys have fetish and nipples are
hardly the strangest. As he's teasing my tits, his lower set of arms is
busy searching my barely hidden lower half. He's a decent security guard as
he has enough sense to check the inside of my boots, which fortunately
don't have anything in them (not that I had anything to put in them). He
makes his way up my calves, my thighs, stopping a second to squeeze by cock
and balls. He gives an impressed nod, acknowledging my generous endowment;
its quite a compliment from genitally gifted species like the Teqort, but
it was probably no where near his size. His hands move around my hips and
begin massaging my most alluring feature (at least if hundreds of one-night
stands are to be believed), my ass.

 	You ever see a physical feature of a person and think that it is so
perfect. Even if the person as a whole isn't that attractive they may have
pretty eyes or a great smile or huge tits. I'm not that person, basically
every part of is a gift from the universe. But, if there was one feature
that excelled above the rest, it was my ass. Muscular, yet soft, big, yet
not obnoxiously huge and I'm pretty sure a doctor or scientist I screwed,
measured it at some point and confirmed it was perfectly rounded. I only
bring this up because even though the bouncer is clearly a nipple guy, he
can't help himself when it comes to my beautifully bouncing bubble bum.

 	When he's satisfied he lets me go and I stroll into the club. A few
of the guys on the line whistle and ask to be my plus one. As if.

 	I open the door and the bouncer says "Enjoy your night at Blaze."

	Blaze? What is it with clubs and their single syllable, buzz word
names? It feels like every club in the charted sectors is named "Blaze" or
"Burn" or "Flash" or something like that. Like their patrons aren't capable
of comprehending words with more than five letters. I look at the bar and
see a blonde twink wearing a pink g string, baby blue, mesh crop-top put
his leg behind his head to impress the dozen or so guys that have cornered
him. `Oh right' I thought `they can't can they.'

	By now you're probably thinking I have a strong contempt for
twinks, but that is incorrect. A lot of them are very amicable and many are
great fucks. What I dislike is the ones that put on this whole dumb,
innocent virgin persona who is simultaneously a massive slut. They walk to
a club wearing puppy dog eyes and a thong, waiting for the whole club to
fawn over them and cheer at every stupid thing they do like a cat on the
net. It annoys me because it gives a bad name to us professional sluts. I
work hard to get fucked; I could have worn the fabric equivalent of two
sheets of toilet paper, but that's not seduction, that's attention
seeking. The blonde is kinda cute, nothing really of note; his audience is
only there because he's advertising he's easy and he'll definitely suck
and/or fuck at least one person by the end of the night. Seduction, my
specialty, doesn't require a crowd of spectators, the goal is to get
noticed and be desired. The twink at the bar satisfies a primal urge to
fuck, while I fulfill a fantasy. I dress in what will have men doing triple
takes, but nothing that says their free to come up and start fondling. I
don't act like a lost toddler, I act like I own the fucking place, making
them afraid to approach, which is what I want. Because when I do choose a
target(s), my interest in them makes them feel special because they were
granted permission to have an audience with the god in front of them.

	That's the case when I walk in. Blaze is like every other club in
Ease, flooded with lights, fog, deafening music, and people looking to get
high, drunk, fucked, or some combination of three. But just like in every
club I've been to, all the guys there, at one point, sneak a glance at the
1.9 meters of solidified sexy strutting around. Even the twink and his
entourage stop flirting for a second when they clock me, as was
expected. In my peripheral I see a slim man in a booth nearly choke on his
drink when he looks at me. He has on an expensive looking white two piece
suit that hangs on him quite awkwardly. His eyes are sunken puffy like he
spent the past two days high as a kite. His pale skin looks quite slimy,
though not sweaty, and his dark hair, even his goatee, is slick and
straightened with way too much product. Slin looks exactly like Rodriguez
described him.

	I walk over to the far end of the bar, away from the dancers and
wannabe pickup artist; Slin's out of sight but I know he'll make his way
around eventually. I take a seat and almost immediately the bar tender
comes up and puts a drink in front of me.

	"From the suit at table three" he nods over my shoulder.

	I remember seeing a big muscled humanoid at one the tables close to
the bar. Bald, but bearded with a black suit. I do not look behind me,
looking signals interests but I take the drink knowing that refusing it
might cause a scene; I'm basically telling the guy "I'm not that
interested, but maybe after another round we can see where this goes". For
the next twenty or thirty minutes I sit watching the cute bar tender
flashily mix drinks and occasionally flirt with the wealthier looking
patrons. Watching him prepare drinks is quite impressive, watching him
juggle drink shakers between his hands and two prehensile tails. I can't
quite tell what species he is, He looks relatively human with slightly
longer limbs, and bluish markings across his face and body, but I can't
tell if they're natural, or tattoos or something. Thrice more I get a drink
from the guys around the club (pretty sure muscle-suit tried once more) and
still I take them but don't acknowledge. So what if I break a few hearts
tonight? There's plenty of people here that can ease the rejection pain
(and relieve the blue balls hurt). I do my best to avoid getting drunk so I
surreptitiously pour some of the drink into the trough behind the counter
when no one's looking. For something like this, sobriety is key to ensure
there are no fuck-ups.

	The bartender goes near where I'm sitting and bends down,
retrieving a bottle of beer that is a bit pricey but no where near as
expensive as the shots I received earlier.

 	The bartender leans in a says "Compliments of the sleaze by the
stairwell."

	I turned my head slightly, just enough so I could see Slin, trying
to hard to casually lean against the railing, raise his own drink. I turn
my seat to face him and take the drink. While looking right at Slin I nod
and take a sip. I don't raise the beer or I'd seem too eager and also my
other suitors might get too jealous. I want him to know that he's got my
attention and hopefully he'll muster the nerve to approach, if he doesn't
I'll have to give him a sign to come over.

 	But lucky me, Slin is thick enough to believe someone like me would
show genuine interest in him. He smooths his hair back even though nothing
short of a hurricane could move it out of place, and starts walking up to
me in a way he thinks looks cool. The bar keep gives me a side look and I
just shrug; he rolls his eyes and walks towards the more crowded end of the
bar just as Slin takes the seat next to me.

	I look over to the blonde at the center of the bar. He's a pretty
good example of what not to do when attempting seduction. For example
whenever a new guy comes up to him he instantly says hi and asks them about
a million questions, while I don't say anything. I can't seem eager and I
mustn't seem desperate, he's the one who shows interest in me so he's going
have to earn mine.

 	"Haven't seen you in here before. Are you new in town?"

	"Got here recently, just seeing what this place has to offer" I
give simple answers, he doesn't need my life story, especially since he
won't be seeing me after tonight.

	"Well if you're looking for a good time with no hassle, Ease is the
place to be. Every conceivable pleasure all in one city I like to say
life's a breeze when you're in Ease" he chuckles nervously.

	I don't even look at him. While the twink laughs at every non-joke
the guys around him make, he sends the message that he's trying to please
them not the other way around. I don't react when he makes his quip and it
puts him on edge, he feels that he has to try harder to get me to like
him. I can see in the corner of my eye pulling at a gold chain and checking
gaudy gilded watch (I had no idea they still made watches), but I see his
pockets look empty, so he must be keeping his things on this inside of his
jacket.

 	"Find anything fun to do on your visit?" I hate it when people
confuse office room small talk with flirtation, but I can still work with
it.

 	"I guess. Nothing too exciting" I take another sip of the beer.

	"Well" he tries again "it won't be too hard to find some excitement
in Ease. It's the city on Ginna with the hottest clubs and the hottest men,
well until I met you."

 	I turn to him and raise an eyebrow "Does that line ever work?"

 	He starts fidgeting, believing he just blew his chances with me he
stammers "well, you know sometimes. It mainly has to be used on tourist,
but it can. Not that you look like a tourist, but if you are that's
fine. But it can work. Why, is not working? Is-is it working?"

	"Strangely enough, it is" I give him a small smile.

	What I did right there was a classic three part break down and
build up seduction trick.  Let the guy throw out a few lines, but don't
give him anything, and when his confidence is waning you throw him a
bone. This is perfect for guys like Slin who have very little charisma and
probably relies on hookers for their sex, but actual skill isn't what's
important. The twink at the bar's center blushes and giggles at every joke
and the men around him only have to consider what position their going to
use to drill him later. In my case Slin is occupied thinking about what he
has to do or say to keep me hooked, and in the meantime I'm almost done
reeling him in. Needless to say I toy with Slin for the next twenty
minute's or so, like he's a cat and I have a laser pointer. I warm up a
little with each line, letting his confidence build so the constant
breaking down doesn't disillusion him and tell him this is going no
where. Once certain that he's completely focused pleasing me, I casually
mention how it's getting a bit crowded down here. In truth most people are
congregated on the dance floor leaving this corner sparse, but Slin doesn't
protest, he wants me and he's doing whatever I want. He calls over the
bartender to ask if a private booth s available upstairs.

 	In the language of nightclubs, "private booths" roughly translates
to "fuck room", and while establishments like Blaze weren't supposed to
have rooms for hookups, no one actually gave a shit. In the neutral zone
you can get away with a lot things as long as you don't blatantly advertise
it. Drug dens, brothels, weapon traders, etc. are a-okay; just don't put it
on the tax returns.

	I follow as he gets up and speed walks to the stairs, he looks
behind at me and sees I'm going at a leisurely stroll and suddenly skids to
try and match me. For comparison, the twink will eventually decide to go
with one of the guys (more, if they get him hammered enough) and follow
them around like a lost puppy, but as I keep saying you want them to work
for you. Slin knows he hit the jackpot but I still keep him on edge because
when a man is focused on not letting a prized fuck get away, they tend to
ignore the world around them, and I need him as unfocused as possible. We
walk up and move to the private alcove the bartender pointed out. A three
by four meter cave, lined with black leather seats and walls dusted with a
fiery fur, hidden away by thick velvet curtains dyed a royally deep
purple. Slin motions for me to enter first, taking a long look at my bum as
I saunter through. He rushes to close the curtains and turns to me, with my
legs crossed and hand patting the space right next to me. This was almost
too easy.

 	I guess it must be too easy because the second Slin sits down, the
universe in all its cruel and sadistic dickery, makes his phone ring. I
glimpse his screen as he gets it out, and the ID says unknown but Slin's
expression tells me he knows exactly who it is. `Fuck!' I think `he could
be selling my ship away in the next ten seconds.' You probably guessed by
now but I do have an ulterior motive for charming old' Slin here. I came to
Ease about a week ago to see about a job opportunity but of course that
fell through (here's a tip: if anyone asks you to bring weapons or drugs or
people to Republic main-space, you immediately get the hell out of
there). But I came back to the space port to find my ship was gone and not
one of attendants saw a thing. One heated call to Rodriguez later, revealed
that he booked me a docking space in one of the shadier ports found on Ease
to save on costs. A quick net search yielded a whole police department's
worth of reports on ships that went missing while at that port. A port run
by Slin, who it seemed was in the business of selling used ships, even ones
that were still being used by the owners. After digging a little, Rodriguez
told me Slin likes to hang out at this club on the weekends, probably to
find someone drunk enough or horny enough to touch him. This normally
wouldn't be useful but Rodriguez found the sales usually happen after the
week their taken, to let the heat die down, so that gave me some time to
work. One blowjob later and the lot attendant spills that their boss
sometimes takes the ships he says are a "high security risk" and brings
them to a private hangar he has on the South-East side. I scouted the
hangar but found that it was locked tight. One tit-fuck later, the guy
tells me Slin always has the hangar key on his person. Now, after a week of
planning, investigating, and crashing in the beds of one-night stands, I
could lose my one chance to get my ship back.

 	Slin looks frustrated but quickly collects himself and tells me
"How rude of me to bring you in here without getting you a drink
first. I'll be back in two minutes" he said as a way to not see, rude, but
he unknowingly giving me the perfect opening.

 	I grab his shoulder as gets up to leave and as he looks at me I say
"Let's not play games anymore. We both know why we're up here. So why keep
on stalling?"

 	Before he can react I place soft kisses on his cheek and neck, then
push him down on to the seat. When his butt is firmly on the couch, I move
to straddle him, giving him access to my front. It must've been a sight to
see fit muscle bound god give a lap dance to a thin wisp of a man and I'll
be honest, I find it a bit kinky, getting plowed by a guy much smaller than
me though most were usually better looking than Slin. You may think I'm
shallow, the way I go on about Slin, but I've fucked guys who look way
worse than him, I'm not that conceited. Slin is just an unappealing person
(on top of not being very attractive); a crook acting like a big shot when
he's probably in a lower position than the guy hired to wipe the mob bosses
ass. I don't actually know what the crime is like in Ease, but it's a
resort gambling city so it's pretty safe to assume there's organized crime
going on somewhere.

	Doesn't matter, I just need to keep him here. He drops the phone on
the seat next to him and his hands hover in front of my body, unsure of
where to wander or if they even should. I grin at his slack jawed face,
it's adorable when guys are so turned on their brains stop functioning. At
this point I feel secure enough in our power dynamic to be a little forward
so I grab his wrists and place his hands on my pecs. I give his fingers an
in depth tour of the geography of my body, each slope and curve of muscle
mapped by his digits as I guide down to my abs, my hips and finally the
sides of my butt. I can feel his dick harden against my crotch and I rub up
against it a little. The phone continues to ring, becoming too prevalent to
ignore, but when Slin looks over to it I'm prepared. I peel off my shirt,
taking my time to make sure I have his attention. Slin's hands return to my
bare chest to feel the skin they were formerly unacquainted with. As he
plays with my nipples, I really get to feel how clammy his hands are but in
spite of myself I begin to chub at the touch of the cold-blooded sleazebag.

	Stripping in these situations has two purposes; the first, as I
just explained, is to keep them distracted and easy to manipulate while the
second is to make them more comfortable with undressing themselves. Just as
I hoped, Slin does not protest when I move to unbutton his jacket and slide
it off his slight frame. I thought the jacket made him look thinner than he
actually was, but I found that without he seemed to shed about fifty-pounds
in an instant. Once it was off I move my hands across waist and to his fly
which held one of the greatest things the universe had to offer. To
clarify, I mean that dick in general and as a concept are great, Slin's
individual cock was nothing special...at all. Twelve centimeters and bit
thin too; before anyone chastises me for being a size queen (guilty) I know
from experience that there are very talented men who can do a lot with the
little they were given, but trust me when I say Slin wasn't breaking any
expectations.

	I get to work, wrapping my fingers around Slin's cock and using my
thumb to massage the underside of his glans, After he leans his head back,
I slowly bring my hand up and down his shaft, twisting my hand a little on
the up beat. I'm usually good at deducing when a guy is ready to blow, and
with Slin having the sexual grace of a Red Ape in heat, it was easy to see
when I could let up on the hand job. Edging is a very useful technique for
manipulation and misdirection because soon enough the only thing the guy
can think about is blowing his load. Plus the harder the orgasm the longer
the hazy post-ejaculation recovery period lasts. For twenty I speed up and
slow down my hand job, occasionally spitting on his dick to prevent too
much friction. I relish the hisses, gasps, and moans that spew from Slin,
reveling over the near catatonic state I've reduced him to. Doesn't matter
how unattractive they are, there is always something appealingly cathartic
and empowering about literally fucking a man silly, knowing that they'll
completely bend to your will if you bend over for them. The twink
downstairs, who's probably getting skull-fucked in the toilet by now, is
too stupid to use his natural gifts to hone his seduction abilities now so
he has something to work with later; he's going to get quite a shock when
he's twenty-six and finds all the men who used line up for him are now
queuing for the newest model of effeminate slut.

 	Slin spits out what sounds like a cross between a dry-heave, a
wheeze, and a sigh for what I assume is an orgasm. I look down and see a
translucent dribble of cum slide down my hand, which I immediately lick up
while gazing into Slin's eyes (an easy way to get men to fall deep into
lust with you is to swallow their cum). Slin expands and contracts his
chest by several inches, reeling from what must have been an explosive
orgasm despite contradicting evidence. His phone continues to ring so I
hand it to him.

 	"Okay, baby. Now you can get me that drink" Still dazed, he blindly
pats the seat with his other hand, presumably searching for his jacket. I
get ready to intervene, but luckily he grabs my tank-top instead before
excusing himself to take his call.

 	Once he's out of the curtain I begin searching his jacket to find
the key. I remember the key hole from scouting out the hangar earlier. It
should be a ten centimeter long slot key, rectangular with a squared jagged
edges. A difficult lock to pick even if I did have my pick set. I reach
into one of the interior breast pocket and I feel the cold steel of the
key. I pull it out and thank the universe when I see the name of the hangar
printed on the key handle.

 	"What the hell did you do!?" Slin gives a muffled shout.

 	I freeze for a second, fearing I'm about to go to jail or even be
killed, since Slin is the one with money and ID. Another second and I
realize the shout sounded deadened because of the curtains. He's on his
phone, yelling at whoever it is that seemed to need him urgently. I kept
very still, afraid that the slightest move might bring him back inside.

 	"You let him search around inside it?- How'd he get inside it?...I
didn't open it, you can't just open a Penetrator! It's not some shit pile
police cruiser!" he yells about my ship.

 	A class IV Pentrator, single seat with four square meters of
storage space and a new pierce-engine. My dad's old exploration vessel,
though not the best ship these days, is not a bad ship by any means. It was
the latest marvel of space ship engineering when it was new and even now is
considered a vintage ship sought after by collectors and old men trying to
relive the good old days when their cocks still functioned. I knew it was
my ship because Penetrators were sort of rare but totally worth the price,
they were made to withstand long voyages, severe climates, and battles with
war frigates, so it's unlikely that Slin has another one in storage. But
Slin is right, someone being able to just pop it open is a little worrying
to me. The bio-metrics should prevent someone from doing that.

 	"Well, did you ask him how much he was paying? He can't just
rummage around my ship (Ha! His ship!) without letting me or the idiots who
work for me, know how much they're willing to dish out" he stops talking
for a minute. He lets out what sounds like a growl

 	"He lost interest? It's a fucking Penetrator, how stupid are you?
He didn't lose interest, he probably marked it or hacked or something so he
could steal it from us later...Fuck! Listen, lock up the shop and try and
look for the guy. I'm going to have to call Oro and when he asks who
screwed up, I'm going to tell him it was you. So you better fix this or
your fucked!"

	I hear Slin and hang up and grumble to himself. I peek at the gap
under the curtain just in time to see Slin walk away towards the upstairs
bathroom. I wait a minute before looking out, and scope the upstairs
section to confirm Slin was not around. Just as I'm about to bolt, I think
that if Slin has someone at the hangar, he can send them in ahead of me if
he finds his key missing. Going to a crook's private hangar in the worst
area of the city with no weapon and at least one person expecting an
intruder is not a situation I want to get within ten feet of. I go back to
his jacket to see if he has any DICs on him, and sure enough there are
three bronze plated prisms tucked away in one of the pockets, two have full
strips of brown light down the side while one is about halfway
depleted. `Thanks Slin, I'll consider this compensation for my wasted time'
I think, before leaving the alcove.

 	I descend the stairs and wave a quick farewell to the bartender,
who nods over behind me, where muscle suit is sitting looking surly and a
little inebriated. Feeling a little bad, I strut up to him and put a hand
on his shoulder. He looks up a little confused and more than a little
annoyed, but a coy smile from me instantly disarms his gruff demeanor.

 	"Thought you had a date?" he grumbles.

 	"Sort of," I say as I rub his thick bicep "more of a business
transaction...a quid pro quo deal. Nothing more."

 	He raises an eyebrow "So now that you're done with work, are you
free to play around with the other kids tonight?"

 	"Sorry baby, I have a curfew. I can't miss it or I'll be grounded."

 	"Grounded? You going to get in trouble with your parents?"

 	"Oh they know how much trouble I can get into, you know, going
where I'm not supposed to, hanging with the wrong crowds."

 	"You and your friends have been bad, eh? Well, your folks should
know grounding doesn't work as well as people think it does. Misbehaving
boys need physical discipline to keep them in line."

 	Fuck you universe! You drop a hot daddy in front of me and give him
a BDSM fetish, just when I have to leave the planet? You wouldn't believe
how hard it is to find a guy who's into hardcore bondage but doesn't skimp
on the role play. I either get a halfhearted spanking and fuzzy cuffs or
I'm barely through door when I'm strapped down with a candle up my ass. I
hear a muffled slimy yell above my head. `Well cinder-fella,' I think `it's
midnight. Better move before your ride turns into a pumpkin'.

 	I kiss the man on his thick lips "Sorry, babe, it's way past my
bedtime."

 	Just as I'm about to split, I feel a large hand grab my
forearm. `Shit, I don't want to have to knock this guy out. I might be able
to fuck him later...at some point... maybe.' He reaches into his pocket and
grabs out a small card with he places into my hand. "My business number,"

 	I had the perfect line about dirty business deals, but I see Slin
at the top of the stairs so all I can get out is "Call you."

 	Bad enough I can't have fun with a hot daddy, but now I have to
leave him with the utterly forgettable "call you" line. Damn it Slin, you
ruin my week by jacking my ride, you tire out after a hand-job, and now you
ruin my first impression with this bondage loving hunk. I'm so glad I stole
those DICs. I race out the door, barely acknowledging the bouncer's lewd
comment, but I'm barely two meters away when Slin bursts out the door
yelling "Thief!"

 	The guys on the line (I'm pretty sure the same ones from over an
hour ago) are too focused on my rear to really react, but as I mentioned,
the Teqort was a good bouncer. Springing forward on huge legs, two pairs of
arms reach to grab my fleeing form. The lower arms stretch as far as they
can, but can only fan the back of my thighs while the top two crash down
towards my shoulders. Feeling the heat of his massive hands speed towards
my back, I bend down and kick legs forward like I'm vaulting over a
barrier, leaving him without a shoulder or a leg to grab unto. As I exit my
leap, a large sausage finger invades the cleavage between my cheeks,
sliding down between my ass mounds, the finger hooks the synthetic polymer
that has been putting in very little effort to cover my goods. Yanking back
his arm the bouncer prepares to grab me when the shorts snap, not back, but
off. The shorts crack off like a gunshot and silence descends before an
eruption of hooting and hollering discharges from the men stuck in the
line. I stumble back into my run as the quad-armed behemoth crashes to the
ground, leaving me to escape with nothing but boots on my feet and a smile
on my face (Le Putain Quotidien had better give me a refund).

 	My feet slam a frantic beat on the ground, while I glance down each
road to make sure there are no dead-ends, my boots scratch the pavement to
turn and beat down a clear avenue. My cock throbs, hardening at the chill
of the air and the thrill of public indecency. My man flesh, now erect,
thumps a steady rhythm against my stomach, dropping on the off beat of my
pulse. I look for the alley's, trying to visualize the street map I
memorized in accordance with the route I'm taking. I could stop and find a
place to lie low for an hour but I know that eventually Slim will stop
focusing on his lost DICs and remember his key, if he hasn't already. The
alleys are a blurry labyrinth of smog, neon, and crusty garbage
bins. Fortunately, Blaze was close to the border between the tourist area
and the run down, "keep one hand on your wallet and the other on your gun"
part of Ease. It's fun for me to visit these tourist-trap resort cities and
find the one dividing road which has high-end casinos and sky-scraper
hotels and literally on the other side, the buildings are condemned, crime
infested shit-holes. And it's through those shit-hole streets, where I'll
make my escape.

 	The streets in these parts are abandoned except for drug dealers,
hookers, and their clients. I zip by an effeminate streetwalker, who yells
after me "Honey, he'll find you eventually. Better to just take it like a
man now!"

 	I feel like retorting back, but I have no time to argue over why I
wasn't a whore. Besides being naked didn't leave me with much of a counter
argument, and it's not like I haven't been a whore...for certain jobs
anyway. I spend the next thirty minutes running towards the garage (about
ten of those wasted avoiding a group of douche bags in a car who apparently
have nothing to better to do than harass a fleeing, naked
stranger). Finally the falling apart hangar comes into view. I run around
to the side where the office entrance is and insert Slin's key and almost
choke on the cloud of dust that is kicked up when I swing open the
door. There's a monitor on the desk that is about thirty years old and the
desks are infected with rust. Covering my mouth, I run through leaving
small clouds of dust behind each desk and I move through the door that
leads to the hangar. I bust open the door and go through the damp garage,
home to more mold than ships. I jog down the lots, glancing over a variety
of flashy commercial private ships, some goods transporters, and one
designer ship before getting my Penetrator.  An onyx base with silver
accents, twin plasma artillery, and a silk-lined satin seat with dildo
attachment for those lonely space journeys (one of my personalized
touches). I gently rub my hand across the hull of my handsome boy and
recoil when I feel the rough scratch that was left on him.

	"I'm going to kill him" I mumble "I'll fucking kill him. I'll kill
him, come back here to kill Slin and his goons, then I'll kill Benny
again."

 	I couldn't be anymore pissed and then..."D-don't move, or I'll-or
I'll -I'll shoot."

 	I roll my eyes towards the one the large garage doors, and see a
young guy shaking a gun in my general direction. `Wonderful' I think `I'm
going to get killed and my beautiful baby is injured. Fuck you, universe!'
He's wearing a standard Ginna mechanic's uniform, I'm guessing this was the
person on the other side of Slin's angry phone call. He's rather young,
maybe twenty and not bad looking at all, not stunning, but he has that
wholesome working class face with a rugged beard and a labor hardened body;
a guy you like to pretend will drag you into the bathroom of an empty
refueling station and just pound you until you go cross-eyed. But a
mind-blowing fuck probably isn't coming my way as the kid's staring at me
(and mostly my cock) like a frightened deer, and he is still holding a
gun. I'll be honest with you; martial arts teachers talk about how with
enough skill you can take on heavily armed opponents, but that philosophy
will get you killed...quickly. When they have a gun and you don't, you run
and hide if they're shooting and if they're not shooting, try and talk your
way out of it while preparing to run if or (more likely) when they start
shooting. Right now, he isn't shooting so I have a chance to talk my way
out of this.

 	It's always important when you're talking, whether it's seduction
or negotiations or trying to justify why you shouldn't be eaten, to always
get the full scope of the situation. Check the power dynamic; he's scared
and holding a gun, and my dick and ass are on full display, not
good. Environment; I'm in a rundown hangar he works in, my ship is right
there to access, but the hangar door is closed and the panel is behind the
mechanic, more not good.

 	Time to start talking "Believe me buddy, this is one hilarious
misunderstanding."

 	He keeps the gun towards me, unconvinced "How-how'd you get in
here?"

 	I point down the rows of "repossessed" ships "Office door."

 	"That's, um, that's locked. You can't get in here without a key."

 	He's of a very straight-forward mindset, left is left and right is
right which doesn't give me much material to work with. I can't bullshit a
whole epic about a lost dog, stripper pastry chefs, and a witch's curse
(fun story, I'll tell you about it later). My only safe option is to hold
up the slot key and hope he doesn't panic shoot me.

 	"But...but, that's Slin's key. I have mine," he points to an
identical slot key hanging from his belt "so that's his. How did you get
it?" This guy doesn't know that Slin's been robbed; this couldn't be
better. I put the DICs, the business card, and the key on the hull by the
cockpit, and I saunter over to the trembling boy.

 	"I met Slin at the club earlier, wanted to talk about buying a
ship. A Penetrator to be precise." The boy can't help but stare
uncomfortably at my boner but his eyes glanced up when I mentioned the
Penetrator.

 	Raising an eyebrow he asked "You're not working for that Metheus
guy are you? Cause-cause if he sent you to for it, then you just tell him
that he has to-to get it himself. Uh...with the money up front!" My luck,
this kid was just a fountain of useful information, but I have to focus on
the task at hand.

 	I shrug "Can't say I've heard the name before. I just heard a rumor
that Slin had the ship and so I made it known that I was interested. He had
some other business to attend to, so he sent me ahead so we could discuss a
trade here."

  	"Okay...why are you naked?" I love it when they ask that question,
always leads to interesting conversations. I chuckle, and close the
distance between us. He's a bit shorter than me which is always good for a
bit of intimidation. He's staring at my erection like it's a shotgun about
to blow off in his face, which is not entirely inaccurate. While he's being
threatened by my member, I take the opportunity to grasp his arm and push
his pistol down to his side, wrapping my other arm over his shoulder.

 	"Well buddy boy," I smirk "I think you're old enough to know that
sometimes us men perform exchanges that aren't completely monetary." I
watch his face rapidly transition from pink to red to white and back again
three times as he processes what I just told him. I was now in a position
of strength in this dynamic so I pushed a little harder.

  	"I thought I'd take some time to prep for our...transaction. But,
he's taking so long and I'm getting so bored, just wandering around;" I
start stepping forward and as expected he retreats to avoid the having my
cock touch him "I'm glad that you're here to keep me company. Perhaps we
can play a little, before Slin gets back and we have to talk boring
business."

 	He tries to back away out of my reach, but my arm holds him firmly
with me. His butt hits the panel that unlocks the hangar door, startled he
drops the pistol. He goes to bend down for it but realizes his face would
have to get very close to my cock to retrieve, so he just stares at me with
wide, fearful eyes. I loose my grip and on his arm and trace my fingers up
and down his tight bicep while my other hand wanders down his lower back.

 	His breath shakes and staggers, words trying to escape his tangled
mouth. Finally he gulps out "I'm not, I'm not, uh, gay. I'm not gay."

 	It takes a strong effort to not roll my eyes. If I had a DIC for
every time I heard a guy tell me that, I'd be able to buy a whole fleet of
Penetrators and a planet to store them on. I smile, bending down to plant
soft kisses on his neck, descending to his shoulder, chest, belly and
finally to his crotch. Each peck wakes his member a little more each time,
until he gets to half-mast. I pull down his trousers and pants in one swift
motion, taking a moment to admire the rather thick piece of meat in front
of me. He clearly isn't familiar with the notion of grooming, but with
sweat and laborious musk it just emphasizes the sexy blue collar gruffness
on the kid. I trace lines of saliva up and down the shaft, moving down to
the head, cleaning out his piss slit and the foreskin. Twenty centimeters
of cock pointing straight at my mouth, impatiently demanding to be let in.

 	I open wide and take the whole thing in one swallow. The mechanic
sharply sucks in a breath, and vainly tries to stifle a moan. I doubt he's
a virgin, cute enough as he is, but I can guarantee he's never been
deep-throated like this before, if at all. You'll never convince me
otherwise, but I believe that you need a cock yourself to know how to treat
it properly. My lips pull back until only the head remains in my mouth,
then I push forward shoving my nose into his pelvis. I repeat this routine
for a few minutes at a time, occasionally coming off to give his cock a
tongue bath. Eventually I start sucking on his balls and I look up into his
huffing and puffing face. Unable to look into my eyes, but unwilling to
turn his head away, he covers them, desperate to get this confusing ordeal
over with. But his shame gives me my opening, so I grab the slot key from
his the belt around his ankles and insert it into the door panel behind
him; the controls unlock and I flip the switch that opens the hangar
door. I return to his cock and suck harder before backing off, keeping him
just on the edge of cumming. He's moaning without any restraint, his desire
to climax overshadowing his sense of composure and the sound of the door
opening.

 	At the moment the door clunks fully open, I pull back to the tip
and push back as hard as I can. The kid grips the panel behind and wails
like a star ship screaming overhead, exploding four large spurts down my
throat. He collapses to his knees as I stand up and casually walk over to
my ship. I grab the DICs and card from the hull and toss the slot key to
the side while looking for the touchscreen on the side of the ship.

 	"Uh...uh...um" in the corner of my eye the disheveled mechanic is
huffing and wheezing, struggling to understand what just happened "You
can't open the-the, um, ship. It has no, um, lock...thing to open
it. You're gonna need a, uh, a special...lock person to, um."

	"The lock's bio-metric" I cut him off "only unlocks for registered
biological signatures. Observe."

 	I place my hand on the touch screen, which lights up before
flashing blue to show I was approved for entering. The cockpit opens and I
hop in the seat and hop on my special dildo attachment (if you're wincing
at the pain I must be feeling, don't. It's designed with a lubricant
dispenser and I almost always have my hole prepped in case of an emergency
fuck...yes that's a thing!). I start up the engine, set up coordinates for
Sayfaam, while the mechanic blankly stares at me, trying to catch up with
what is happening.

 	I yell at him "tell Slin, I'm sorry to have missed our meeting, but
he already kept me here long enough! But, thank you for the road snack
buddy boy!"

 	The cockpit closes and my ship lifts off the ground, and I wave to
the hapless mechanic on the ground as I zoom off into the upper atmosphere
of Ginna, leaving the gilded shit hole behind. I reach the upper
stratosphere leading into the cool beauty of space, finally away from the
rabble and glamour of ease. I'm alone with my baby. My navigation orients
my ship towards my destination and my Pierce-Drive charges up. I have a few
minutes, so I call Rodriguez to warn him I'm on my way.

 	The communicator barely has a chance to ring before he's on the
line "Jacky boy. You got the Etoile back, like I knew you would. Anyways
while you were on your little trip, I found some jobs for you and they're
in the frontier so you know its good pay. Trust me this all on the up and
up, well, up and up for a runner, anyways. So once you get back here and
you get nice and rested and are ready to get back out there, we are going
to bank some serious DIC."

 	I let the silence hang for a minute. Rodriguez's sweet talk and
plans of future fortune and reward get no response. I leave the airwaves as
empty as his promises.

 	When he tries to speak his pretty niceties again I tell him "They
scratched my baby Benny. I'm coming back to Sayfaam now and when I do you
are going to pay for all the damages."

	He fumbles out "Of course, but it may take ti-"

 	"Then you're going to pay me a thousand DICs for each day of my
life wasted on Ginna."

 	"Hey, hey. Let's di-"

 	"You're going to pay me everything I'm owed. Up front. As soon as
I'm done kicking the shit out of you."

 	"You're wha-"

 	"As soon as I get back. I'm beating your ass until it bleeds."

 	"But-"

 	"Bye, Benny."

 	I hang up on Rodriguez, and my systems let me know that my
Pierce-Drive is ready to go. I lean back, punch the drive and get ready for
a nice short nap on my journey through warp space.


Author's Note: Please donate to nifty and make sure any criticism is
constructive and respectful.-David T Patrick