Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Mult, Consensual, Romantic, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Blackmail, Mind Control, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Light Bond, Interracial, .
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Set in the distant future where interstellar travel is common and convient. No matter how advanced the civilization, people will be people. With the same old vices.
Civilizations means cities. The greater the civilization, the greater the city. The more powerful and successful the civilization, the more ostentatious the city. The more ostentatious the city, the darker and dirty the slums. Located across the river from Morel's Capital City was the suburb Malcenia. It had the distinction of being the worst place to ever be cobbled together out of the refuse of the best and brightest of the bottom of the barrel.
It's organized syndicates governed here. The Morel Government gave Malcenia little notice, as long as the violence stayed on that side of the river. Routinely, once yearly, Morel Security Forces would made a sweep through the suburb and gather up the most troublesome and those who had fallen short in their 'union dues'. When the governement needed someone for a deniable operation, it was here the sacrificial wolf would be recruited.
At night was when Malcenia came alive. The streets of Malcenia were a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. The thick humidity of this summer's night made the air sour and stale. It was a lively, if more dangerous place, at night. Bars and casinos littered the main drag. Their neo signs gave off ghostly glows in the permanent fog that seemed to hang over the area. There more disreputable business like the brothels, joyhouses, pit rings, and canneries catered their own illicit - yet highly profitable commodities to those who came calling.
JEB Stuart, independent trader with experience beyond the Gate, picked his was through the crowd of beings while making it a point to never meet any of their eyes. Malcenia was the home of crooks and sneaks and vagabonds. The wrong look might make them think he was after their latest profit or looking to put them into a penal colony. There was no such thing as honor amongst thieves in this place. The only honor would be a promise that none of your material possessions would go to waste after your death, including your corpse.
It was only when Stuart reached a block of the street he was familiar with that he lowered his guard. This area of town was known as the Rat's Hole. It was a little block. The buildings were stacked one on top of another along its narrow, winding street. Music, the smell of cooking meat, and half naked flesh were the stimulants of the hour. 'Doc' Holiday, a Human who freely admitted that he had been born several centuries too late, operated a medical clinic on the second level. He waved down as Stuart passed.
Hookers from the B & A cooed his name as he navigated around the front of their establishment. He wasn't here to be put be back together, or taken apart, at the Doc's. He wasn't here for pleasurable company that would pick his pockets when he was asleep either.
Truth be told he had seen much worse and much more dangerous places in his travels as a smuggler - pardon, Independent Trader.
He stopped outside the largest bar around. It's name was self explanatory.
'Beef, Beer & Billiards'. Even though Billiards had a different explanation here. Two thick bruisers stood outside the door. Amazing men that had no necks, yet could still turn their heads and manage speech even if it was within a limited range. Heavy automatic phase rifles graced their arms. Large power magazines clung to their belts. Their job consisted of turning away people who came to do the exception of people who knew what business the establishment behind them conducted.
JEB Stuart had no trouble getting in the front door. Over the past several months he had made his a familiar face here. The bruisers did not even ask for his weapon. He bathed in the scent of the pub.
The smell of cooking meat, the acrid stench of local tobacco and other less well known pharmaceuticals, the smell of sweat and body odor. The young and pretty things milled around the hard case business professionals. He pass two such professionals having a discussion between themselves with the use of blunt instruments.
The bar and the music, as bad as it was, held no interest for him. Stuart made his way to the back where a heavy steel door occupied an otherwise unremarkable wall. He knocked, rather heavily, twice.
A winding noise emanated from a small glass dome over his head. He could almost hear the device scanning him.
The door opened. A large man greeted him. The man's beard was long and full, coming down to near his rounded belly. Armed with a phase rifle like the bruisers at the front door, the man nodded, "Stuart. He is waiting for you."
Stuart did not respond. He walked by the bearded wonder and opened a flimsy looking door behind the guard. Beyond the door was a room carved out of solid rock. Clever use of curtains and drapes hid the ash gray rock walls. A large steel table with its collection of chairs dominated the cramped space of the chamber. A single light hung over the table. It gave off just illumination to light up the table and its occupants, but leave the recesses of the room in darkness. An interesting tactic. There was no way of knowing if anyone was hiding behind the curtains in the shadows.
There were five people seated around the table. Some of whom JEB Stuart knew.
Nagus was at the head of the table. Right where a man with all the power should be. Nagus was, without a doubt, the oldest Morlenian Stuart had ever seen. His ears had more hair than his head. His skin was sagging and wrinkled so much that it looked like it would slide off his bones any moment. His nose, broken many times in his youth, was bulbous and disfigured with nostrils bristling with hairs. Yet his eyes were still sharp and alert.
Nagus always spoke in a high pitched, squeaking voice, but woe to he who dared to laugh for he would find his gonads in a jar adorning Nagus' bedchamber.
Behind Nagus was Ottho. Ottho was personal servant to the old Morlenian. He never said a word, except to Nagus. Physically, he reminded Stuart of Frankenstein's monster from the Tri-D serial adventures.
Next to him was Eric. Eric wasn't all that tall, but he was a big man. Often call 'Eric the Read for his red hair. Though slow to anger, he had a mean temper. His arms were decorated with the tattoos of animals from a dozen star systems. He sat squeezed into a seat that seemed to cry under his bulk. The man ate sandnuts, the local equivalent of peanuts, by the handful. What make that amazing was that Eric had no teeth. One thing about Eric, he always spoke what was on his mind. A mechanical genius, he had also been poking around Nagus and his smuggling business for years doing petty thefts.
Stuart liked Eric, even if the man did not know when to shut up. Eric was nearing the end of his twenties in age.
Guido was here. Stuart had known the big lunk-head for years. Their paths had cross several times. Sometime Stuart would get the better deal. Sometimes not. Guido stood over seven feet tall, a mountain of bone and muscle. Guido possessed a pretty simple mind. To be honest, he was down right stupid. But he was lucky, more lucky than any being had a right to be. Something about that stupid facade made Guido likeable. Nagus had been hiring him out on small trips or more lately as a bill collector. Guido did the jobs too dirty for most people to comprehend. Guido was very good with heavy weapons. He was practically the only man Stuart had ever known who could wield a heavy plasma rife without the aid of its gyroscopic systems.
Across from Guido was a man Stuart only knew as The Butcher. Though average in height and build, there was nothing average about his reputation. Knives, sharp objects, and razors were the tools of his trade. Even now he wore his trademark meatcleaver, a large blade that was reputed to have cleaved a full grown Klingon in half. He was a sadistic man. He had a thick handle-bar mustache with the end curved up, making him look like he always had a smile on his face. His eyes were as dark as the bottom of hell. He looked to be in his forties.
Rabbit was almost the exact opposite of the Butcher. Rabbit was little more than a boy with a mop of fuzzy hair and a generous helping of freckles. He was a electronics wizard and could crack code like it was a child's game. He was short, almost rail thin, and utterly annoying. Stuart had forgotten what his real name was, but the nickname suited the young Morelian well. He was after all as horny as a rabbit. He was young and, in Stuart's opinion, barely out of diapers.
JEB Stuart himself was a well-built man. Strongly muscled and somewhat stoic. His expression was one of repressed amusement. His hair was short, shaved that way for ease of upkeep and to prevent people from pulling him around by it. A scruffy goatee nested on his chin. Possessing a scar on his left cheek, he was a man who spoke with silent confidence. He wore pants with more pockets that he had use for and a black, sleeveless shirt.
"Hello!" Eric waved as Stuart entered. The last syllable of the word intentionally dragged on the ground, making him sound like someone from the special school.
"JEB!" Nagus stood, using his cane which had a head of solid gold made in his own likeness adorning it. The old man wheezed when he laughed and his lower lip quivered. If he laughed any harder parts of him would probably start falling off. "I was just taking about you! I always said if there is one person I would trust to get any job done, no matter how dangerous or suicidal, JEB Stuart would get it done. Sit! Sit! Have something to drink."
Nagus motioned to a bottle of thirty year-old Ocean Ale. Others had glasses in front of them. Of course, with Nagus, he wasn't asking if Stuart wanted a drink. He was telling him to have one. So Stuart nodded as he took his seat at the opposite end of the table from the old geezer. He took the time to notice there was still one empty seat at the table.
"Wonderful! Butcher, pour the man a drink. We should celebrate!"
"And what is it that we are drinking to, good Nagus?" Butcher spoke with an refined accent which only just hid the sarcasm under his voice as the dirt under his fingernails.
"Tsk, tsk." Nagus shook his hand at the Butcher. A hand which continued to quiver even after the intention shaking was over. "There's still one empty seat and we are early yet. I can tell you that a great profit stands in front of us all."
"Me, Guido, like profit." The monolithic man grumbled in a child-like voice as he opened his massive jaw, which was more suitable to shoveling gravel rather than chewing food, and dumped the contents of his glass into his gullet. "Guido like profit almost as much as Guido like eggs. Me, Guido, really like eggs. Boiled eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs and bacon, eggs and callops, eggs and butter."
"Eggs and butter?" Eric asked.
Guido nodded his head. "Eggs and butter good. Like Bologna and sandnut butter."
"Oh, now I like bologna and sandnut butter. Damned good when you toast the bread."
"Da, Guido think sandnut butter good on everything."
Butcher snorted. "The two of you could drive a preacher to drink."
"And they have on many occasions!" Rabbit pipped before going back to his porno book.
Eric stuffed another handful of sandnuts into his mouth. "You hear the one about the Church Parrot?"
Guido shook his head 'no'. Butcher also shook his head, but it was for an entirely different reason. Stuart had come to know Eric for his rather odd sense of humor and stories. Before he came in he probably told plenty of them. This story was like a lot of them and the way Eric told it was always good for a laugh.
The end of the story brought a bellowing laugh from Guido that brought tears to his eyes and the sharp, spike chuckles of Nagus. Stuart grinned politely to the story even though he had head it before. Often he wondered if the only reason Nagus kept Eric around was for his ability to make him laugh.
"Guess that preacher had chicken for dinner that night!" Nagus smile, smacking his hand on the table top.
Butcher only groaned. He looked towards Stuart, who returned his gaze. "J.E.B. Stuart, was it? I heard of you. You were the one who hunted down Jimmy Pegleg on Calno?"
Stuart nodded. "That's right. He cheated me in a freely agreed deal."
"I heard he pulled a P150 on you. Triggered it right against your nose. Burned half your face off."
"That story is exaggerated. He burned most of my hair off."
I heard you tore off his lips for spite." The Butcher gave an amused grin. "Is that an exaggeration too?"
"No. That part's true."