Corran Antilles is having a bad life. Schlepping cargo for the Federation doesn't pay. Even worse, the corporate hauler assigned to him malfunctions inside Trevithick Station. Before Corran's ship-trouble costs him his life, he's able to land, but at the price of his job. Down on his luck, with no money and no way to get home, Corran thinks he’s hit the jackpot when a stranger approaches and offers him the chance of a lifetime. But of course, nothing in the Federation is free, and there's always a catch. If your new here, you're in for a treat! This maybe the last of the FREE published stories that I've won an award for so pay attention! Below is CHAPTER 2 of "Dangerous Gamble". If you'd like to tip me for this story, I invite you to purchase another story of mine on any retailer. Check out my books on these fine retailers: Also, because this is a free story it will be doled out in parts. All the parts will be connected so you can follow the completed story. Last we saw our hero, he was crashing a space bucket of a ship that should have been retired and managed NOT to kill anyone. Still he was fired and left as the scapegoat for the wreckage he left behind trying to deal with a broken, un-maintenance craft. Dangerous Gamble A Dangerous Elite Fanfic S.N.McKibben © S.N.McKibben 2015 My Last PaycheckAfter I dropped off the suit and picked up my check, I had enough money to sit and drink two shots at the Star and Garter. No ship. No money. No one here to trust and I smelled like week-old trash. Felt that way, too. I took a shot of the potts-dim liquor—the cheapest crap you could buy that didn’t have the consistency of used oil. It would burn the nose hairs, though, which helped to keep from smelling myself. “If it isn’t the pilot himself.” That would be me. Apparently no one else who ever sailed into Trevithick had ever made a mistake. I pulled up my shoulders to my ears and lowered my head, as if hiding my face would hide my shame. An older gentleman with small, round, black-framed glasses sidled up to me. He wore a pilot suit under a deep red velvet robe with an Imperial insignia clasp at his collar bone. “Yep.” I swallowed the last of my paycheck down my gullet and climbed off my stool. “If you’re looking for compensation then all I have is a sorry and the skin off my hand.” “I was actually looking for a drinking partner.” He sat on the stool next to me and flagged the bartender. Dalton, the barkeep, stepped up to the man, eager to take his order. “Yes, sir?” “Bast snake gin?” the old Imperial asked hopefully. The bartender frowned and shook his head in disappointment. “Still not here.” The old Imperial sighed. “Then two rounds of what my friend here is having.” He smiled at me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. I raised my hands. “I don’t have a way to pay for more.” “It’s on me,” he said, and thrust a greeting hand forward. “The name is Felix Wulfhart.” I shook his hand. “Corran Antilles.” Dalton placed two shots of amber liquid in front of us and Felix downed his. Unsure of the situation, I did the same. I didn’t want to piss off anyone else in this place. “So why the long face?” he asked. My eyebrows rose. “Have you seen pad thirty-eight?” He laughed deep and hearty. “Yes, son. In fact, I was watching you from the Peterson building when you came in.” “Great, so you got a front-and-center view of my humiliation.” “Better than being shot to molecules by Trevithick guns.” “Maybe,” I said. There wasn’t a place on this station that would put me up for free. Mom and dad didn’t have the money to get me back home. I’d have to find a way to get planet-side by myself. “So, Corran, what’s next?” Seriously? “Yeah, I thought I’d jet over to Fairbairn Station. See how well a half-baked hauler bounces around in their docks. Hell, maybe they have rubber walls.” “Well, I suppose that’s your choice.” Felix assessed me. My impression was that he was taking my measure. “Choice?” I said. “None of us has a choice.” I waved my hand at the other patrons. “It’s starve with a job or starve on welfare. Look around.” He glanced at the people in the bar and returned his attention to me. “So you give up?” “No,” I pouted. “But there’s only so much to go around.” “Well, with that mentality there sure is.” Felix waved a goodbye to Dalton, turned around and left me looking at his long drape of a robe. Pompous prick. Just because you have money… Now it was a matter of pride. I chased after him down the metal hall of the station. When I caught up, I demanded, “What do you mean by that?” The biggest grin seemed to crack his face in two. “I mean, Corran Antilles, you reap what you sow.” “So you do think it was my fault the ship broke down. Do you know how hard it is to steady a hauler with a stuck thruster with only rudders for steering?” Felix stopped. “I thought it was only the control stick that malfunctioned.” “Che, well, if you ask me, everything on that ship malfunctioned except for the cargo ramp.” Felix wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me next to him like a mother bird would her chicks. “Ah, my dear boy, you are better than I expected.” He led me down a corridor going to the landing pads. “Better than you expected?” “How would you like to fly for yourself?” Felix asked. “Wait, are you offering me a job?” Was he crazy? What did he want me to haul? Probably something illegal. “I’m offering you the break you always wanted.” “Hey, um… I can’t ship illegal cargo. I have family.” Felix laughed. “You can decide what you carry.” We entered the port toward an orange Sidewinder with a racing stripe on the left side. “Okay,” I said. “But I don’t have a ship.” He gestured at the Sidewinder. “Yes you do.” I stared at the box of a vessel. “That’s not mine.” “It is now.” He stepped up to the cargo ramp and waved me inside. The maneuverable wing of a ship looked like a tent, but if she was mine I didn’t give a flying flag. I raced up the ramp. “What do you mean it’s mine?” Mine as in mine? “Corran, I’d like to be your benefactor.” “Whoa, benefactor?” What the hell was a benefactor? “Wait,” I waved my hands and stepped back. “I’m not into guys.” “No, Corran.” Felix took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “The ship—I’m giving it to you. Your pilot’s dues are paid. All you have to do is find cargo and get it to the destination.” I still wasn’t convinced. “And what do you get?” He put his thick bottle-caps back on. “Bragging rights and a pilot I can depend on every so often.” “Nothing illegal?” “I wouldn’t recommend it, and you should check the system you’re going into if you’re concerned about such things.” Standing there bewildered, I tried to wrap my head around everything. My own ship? I could go anywhere? “You’ll need a pilot’s suit, but the vessel is fully fueled.” Felix added more confusion to the mix. Why was he giving me this? What was the catch? “You’ll find credits in your account,” he said. “I suggest you take a shower first.” I looked inside the cockpit in awe. “Shower first. Got it.” Any moment now I’d wake up on the floor of the Star and Garter. “Good luck, Corran.” Felix left me there standing inside the Sidewinder, trying to slap myself awake. Part 2 End Want a full length story for FREE? |
It involves tentacles. So...if your not into that stuff I'd read no further.
Much like "The Demon Inside Me" I'm wondering if I should plaster this story out into the world. Of course my pause in doing so is because it's one of those fantasies that I'm sure would be horrible in real life, yet in my own imagination where I control everything, it's okay. It's one of those stories that makes me realize I'm a sick puppy. But I believe most people have a sick puppy moment in their lives. I just happen to have several of them.
In part it's also my answer to dino-porn. I'm still laughing at it, yet I can understand the appeal for some people. Who the hell am I to poke fun at Taken by the T-Rex when I come up with this s**t. Okay, I'll still make fun of T-Rex AND my stuff, but as I say~my life can be seen through a comic and it's always exciting, beautiful and somewhat eccentric. I've left you a very rough draft of the start, (this is not the final product) tell me what you think of the premise.
I tried keeping my knees together and hoped my coat and purse would keep my fly-away skirt down. Since my lunch was sitting on my lap, I at least could prevent skirt-flip in front. But my short skirt hung down on the ball on the sides and the back. My panties exposed on the ball. If I’d known what I was was sitting on, I’m not sure if I’d do anything different. Thinking about Wesley, I rocked back and forth as nonchalant as I could in a public place. I tried leaning forward so the pressure would hit against that sweet spot that felt so good. Usually only a man’s fingers could get there just right, but the holes in the ball created grooves that could do the job almost as well. The small release was enough to get my panties damp. I should stop. I thought. But it felt so good.
I stopped rocking, but the pleasure didn’t stop. This pulsing against my privates continued thinking it was just the throb of lust. What felt like a finger slid down my inner thigh. I stood up and looked down thinking a bug had crawled in between me and the ball. Nothing was there. Just the ball and it’s strange indents. Sitting back down the pulsing came back. I couldn’t resist that feeling. It was doing no harm. I tilted my pelvis to get that little bean of nerves better access to the grooves on the ball. It was better than a finger. An entire palm flicked my hooded lady.
A thin strip of warmth skimmed along my pantie line. My heart raced, more dampness coated the barrier between me and the leather feel of the balls skin. Pink skin. Another skim along my inner core. My nipples pressed against my tight shirt. Breathing with more desperate uncertainty I realized how long it was since anyone touched me. The warmth tickled where my thigh met underwear. Lazy strokes, sneaking its way under the cloth barrier in micro increments, playing with me—asking permission to go further in like a new lover. I swallowed and looked around.
The benches were still full, but no one was looking at me. They were feeding pigeons or packing to go. The finger made tiny circles riding the line of cloth and inner thigh. My clit still being teased through my underwear. I gripped the part of the ball in front of me. Oh God, yes. The feeler inched closer to my venus mound, gently probing. I looked around, praying no one saw me panting like a dog. No ones looking, oh that feels so good.
As if it could hear my thoughts the digit slid over my folds and slowly penetrated me. This extremity or feeler, what ever it was, started off as thin as a pencil and tapered wide as a horses cock. At least that’s what it felt like. A cock that could double over on itself when it reached my end. I started to panic a little when it folded and kept sliding inside me. How long was this—tentacle?
Soon as I started to think about pulling away it stopped and started pulling out. Relief. It was almost all the way out when it started its way back in. This time faster. Like a machine it started pumping. Slow at first and then my body reacted and fed a woman’s natural lubrication down to help increase the friction. Hitting all my pleasure points it was futile to resist. I raised my head to the sky and pretended to enjoy the sun. Keeping quiet was a feat of control while being pounded and my clit being slapped silly. I was going to scream when I came and this thing insisted I give in.
I felt two thin antenna exploring me under my skirt, climbing upward. They tickled and felt just as good as a man’s hands on my stomach. Caressing the roundness of my breasts the feelers cupped me and lightly squeezed. I choked off a moan and looked around. We were alone now, my ball and I. A shot of ecstasy ran down as both nipples got flicked.
“Oh, yes.” My tight T-shirt didn’t hide the “fingers” playing underneath. They flicked and rubbed until my pink halo’s where hard pebbles. Then the vines wrapped around my areola, puckering the tips so tight they mushroomed. A short gurgle escaped my lips. This was better than having a man. Maybe even Wesley. While the tenticle inside me acted as a plundger trying to work an orgasm out of me, the finger wiggling my lady knob pressed harder.
“You want me to come?” I whispered. The vines around my nipples tightened and rolled the exposed tips. My abdomen tightened and my insides spasmed with my juices whooshing down. I heard the splatter of my mind-blowing experience hit my new favorite ball only because I could keep my scream of pleasure silent. The motion stopped and tenticles started releasing and retracting. I hunched over using the ball as a means to keep me from falling over. Panting from orgasm, the ball became an inert object again. A little ashamed, I straightened, telling myself it was all in my mind. That I’d needed release for a while now, and thinking of Wesley prompted this hullicination. Still, I thanked the ball and stood up to go back to work. I’d be five minutes late, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. But when I arrived at work, someone did notice—Wesley, the boy I’d been trying to entice taking me out. For what ever reason, he noticed me today.
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