A Log Truck Driver In Outer Space
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Consensual, NonConsensual, Heterosexual, Science Fiction, Humor,
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 2 - Billy Joe Stephens, a real life good ole boy from North East Texas, has an early morning encounter with Space Aliens. Anal probing is not what he is wishing for in this First Contact.
Nearby, on the highest spot, were the remains of four large lightning-blasted trees. They lay in a more orderly arrangement than I'd have expected. One of the giants had been split and splintered remarkably but the other three looked almost as if they had been pushed over and together with a purpose in mind.
This must be the safe area the greenie had mentioned but the dead trees weren't the result of natural lightning. They must be what passed for initial shelter for most new arrivals. Not really much in the way of shelter but better than nothing, at least I wouldn't have to settle for that.
The area wasn't newly created; the trees had been in this shape for a few years at least. Dozens of saplings had sprung up near them and I could see that several had been cut down, no doubt by newbies making clubs or spears.
The rise was near the center of a large, roughly circular, clearing. This wasn't natural either, though some effort had been made to make it seem so. I could tell that some type of mowing had to be taking place, at least once a year from the looks of the place.
I couldn't imagine greenies down here, planet side, riding tractors pulling bush hogs but something had to be mowing this large clearing. There were no bushes or weeds taller than a year's worth of growth would leave them.
The clearing had about a three hundred yard radius from this rise. It was completely surrounded by forest, hardwoods at that, looking remarkably like those on earth.
Ironically, I felt slightly let down. I'd been snatched from earth and put down on a planet probably light-years away, and from what I could see there was basically no difference.
Maybe I was on a different planet and maybe not. I'd have to wait to know for certain but it seemed possible that the aliens were playing a colossal joke on me. If they were, I couldn't understand why they'd go to the trouble.
The space ship hadn't been a joke or a put on and neither had the adjustments to my medical condition. No one on earth knew how to make something just appear out of nowhere in the middle of the night, and no doubt all the doctors and hospitals would be out of business if earth had the kind of medical technology these aliens had.
"No sense standing around scratching my ass," I said, to the trees I guess.
I made a circle around the ordered confusion of the deadfalls and the tangle of saplings and low brush, trying to discover what I'd have to deal with first.
It didn't take much thinking to see that I was probably better off than most people who found themselves captured on earth and released here. If a couple of pushed over trees were what the aliens thought of as shelter, I had a castle on wheels.
Shelter was waiting for me, in my truck, and I was well armed to boot. Ammunition wouldn't be a problem either, thanks to their odd rules. In fact, I had most of the comforts of home.
It was a good thing for me that I'd been able to swindle Bandor into bringing my truck along. Sure, I could have brought my guns and tools and other things with me if I had rushed like hell to bring them into the damned spaceship by hand.
I would have never thought to bring the spent brasses though, and they'd turned out to be my biggest treasure. It was very comforting to have a thirty-ought six and fifty thousand rounds on a planet that had few or no other firearms. This might not be so bad after all.
When I walked around the truck to see if there was anything worth looking at on the other side I got a big surprise. Then, when I started poking around in that surprise, I got an even bigger one.
I found the two motorcycle front wheels I'd bought at the estate sale. I'd intended to see about making some type of wagon or cart out of them. Truthfully, I would have probably just put them in the storage building behind my house and forgotten them. In fact, with all the excitement I had already forgotten them.
The surprising thing was that there were four of them now. I recognized the original two that I'd bought, but the other two, while similar, were made of a different metal and I wasn't sure that the tires were actually rubber.
This was confusing, and when I found what sure looked like a kit to make a wagon with the wheels, I was even more confused.
It came to me when I wondered about the extra wheels. It was as if a place in my mind opened up and made information available. I mentally wandered around in this new part of my brain and suddenly I could see a letter, to me.
Dear Billy Joe Stephens:
I was the project manager for the repair and replacement of your possessions. I would like to thank you for providing the most entertaining mission I have ever been on.
We have put everything you had into better condition than it was, and in fact it is in better condition than it ever was. We tried to be very thorough.
Unfortunately, some of our superiors would not allows us to repair your two motorcycles, saying that you never had them and only possessed the wheels which you had recently bought.
We in the engineering section felt that this was a breach of our regulations and of our responsibilities. We will be reporting it as soon as we return from this mission, but that will be fifteen of your years - on your present planet - and it seems too long for a redress of grievance to us.
To assuage our own consciences, we have done a few other things as a type of reimbursement for the disservice we were commanded to do you. If the administrators are not going to abide by the rules, why should we?
As I mentioned we repaired everything you had, and then we duplicated most of the things using some of our technical advantages. It was speculated that if you did not own the motorcycles you must have intended to use the wheels for a wagon, and we have provided a kit to assemble said wagon.
The ammunition containers we provided for your repaired ammunition are capable of repairing the spent ammunition on their own if you place the spent cases back in them. It takes approximately two hours for them to repair fifty cartridges.
The container for the twenty-two-caliber ammunition holds one hundred cartridges where the others hold fifty each. Since we only found twelve of these spent cartridges, we assumed that this ammunition was normally not repaired.
No matter, the containers for this ammunition simply create new ammunition once you remove some of it. I probably don't need to tell you that the containers are much more complicated than they seem.
We also took the liberty of upgrading your vehicles fuel tanks so that they always remain full, just as we upgraded the engine oil containers and the boxes which held fuel and oil filters.
We know that these small things cannot replace two motorcycles of the type that your wheels were from, but we hope that they will help you and will partially make up for this injustice.
Again we apologize for the wrong we feel has been done to you and we are intent on seeing it redressed, no matter how long it takes.
This tiny portion of your brain that we have used to give you this information is in a section of cortex that was not actually being used and I'm sure you know that there are large areas like this in the human brain.
We have included other information about the things we have provided and repaired for you and some other interesting things about your new home. If you have any questions, you need only access this area again and the answers will come forward promptly.
Chakal, Repair Team Leader
I was dumbstruck. To make sure I wouldn't loose the information, they had simply put it into my head. And the ammunition containers, how in the hell could the containers reload the cartridges?
One thing was apparent from the message. The capture a dumb earthling gig was a union job, without a doubt. Chakal sounded just like a pissed off union man that had been shit on by management. He'd been happily planning to fabricate a couple of Harleys and someone had messed up his plans. He'd made sure he got his own kind of revenge.
By now I was in a much better mood than when I'd first arrived. It wasn't as if I had a choice in the matter, but at least I had a generous supply of things I would need to get by here. It seemed that I also had acquired some friends, or at least allies, among the aliens.
From the sun's position, it seemed to be noon, and I took a look at my watch to check. It showed a little past noon but a closer look let me see that it was ten minutes past thirteen o'clock. I guessed that this planet had a longer day than earth and it seemed that the clever engineers had repaired my watch to fit.
I found my ice chest, made a baloney and cheese sandwich, and opened a coke. Since I'd been unconscious for most of the journey, I assumed that my food had been repaired also. I tried not to think about how baloney might be repaired, but it tasted ok.
With my lunch gone, I started going through my possessions, organizing them, and trying to discover what the extra items were. The kit for a wagon got my attention first.
It was actually a framework for a wagon and I even had a small stack of some type of planks. They weren't wood and seemed to be a sort of plastic, but very strong. What the hell, I'd try out my new information storage.
As advertised, thinking of a question about the wheels yielded a description of the kit for a four-wheeled wagon. The other two wheels were duplicates of my originals but made with alien alloys and with an alien plastic for tires instead of rubber.
The plank like material was another alien plastic and the information described it as nearly indestructible. Once assembled, the wagon would be five feet wide, ten feet long, and the box would be three feet from floor to the top edge.
One of the engineers must have been a character, because I also had a set of bows and canvas and the finished wagon would resemble a Conestoga, except for the motorcycle wheels. It even had everything needed for a two-horse hitch: tongue, singletree, double trees, and all the harness.
It was a nice gesture and I sent a mental thanks to the engineers who had done this. I didn't think they'd receive it but I thought it anyway.
It still left me wondering why they'd gone to the trouble of making the wagon when I had the truck and all the fuel it could ever burn. Sure enough, I got another mystery message in my head. This one was even shorter but it wasn't sweet at all.
"There are no roads."
If that wasn't a fucked up deal I don't know what was. I had a perfectly good log truck and all the push-oil I could burn but there wasn't a damned place I could drive it.
It would be good to have it for a shelter if nothing else. A good heater for winter and cold air conditioning for summer would be great but looking around the edges of my safe area, I could see that I wouldn't even be able to get the truck out of it, there wasn't enough room between the trees. Maybe I'd need that wagon after all.
The wagon had me thinking about finding and catching horses and some more information popped up.
Supposedly there were horses near me. Several bands of them roamed in meadows and thin patches of forest about a mile north of my current location.
Wondering about leaving my clearing got a response that let me know that the unnamed greenie hadn't given me the full story. I was free to leave and re-enter my release area for thirty days, but no other humans could enter or leave it during that time unless I was with them and specifically allowed it. That part I'd understood.
The reason for this was something I hadn't considered. The me only access was so I could capture and keep slaves if I wanted to. It also made it impossible for others to capture me and commandeer my possessions before the thirty days were up. They could still capture me if I was out of the area but couldn't get back in to my things until my safe time was up.
I couldn't come up with a reason for collecting slaves though. Slaves, what in the hell did I want with slaves and what kind of place was this where slaves were legal.
My handy dandy information store let me know right away that everything was legal here, since there were no laws an no one to enforce them if there had been any.
Large groups of slaves weren't owned by one man though, as had been the case on earth at one time. It wasn't because it was illegal; it was because one person could not successfully ride herd on a large number of slaves. Invariably, when a man enslaved more than four or five others, they eventually banded together to kill or enslave him.
A sudden twinge in my abdomen let me know that a latrine was the next order of business. I poked around for the entrenching tool that I carried for just such occasions and found it shortly, along with the repaired alien version which looked the same but weighed less than half as much as the original.
The worn out and broken handled round point and flat point shovels I'd usually carried to help me out when I was stuck had been repaired to brand new status too and they also had alien versions. At least I was well set up to dig a shitter.
After finishing my business with the latrine, I decided that I had been mostly wasting time by poking around in my stuff. At first I was going to assemble my wagon and load most of my belongings into it, but the no road revelation changed all that. When my safe time was over I had to be able to get away with my truck.
I found my web belt, strapped on my holster and Glock and headed toward the widest gap in the trees that I could see.
When I reached it I wandered around in the woods near it. There wasn't a road of course but I though that with careful maneuvering and more than a little chain saw work I could fight my way through. In fact there was what looked like a natural trail I could use.
I started off down it, noting where I'd have to fell a tree here and there along the way. I did my best to avoid the biggest ones. A large stream brought me to a stop.
It was probably twelve to fifteen feet wide and could have been three feet deep near the middle. I knelt down beside it and was bringing water to my mouth with my hand when I thought I heard a short curse from upstream, but I couldn't tell how far upstream.
I started that way, slowly and quietly, looking around carefully as I went. I heard another curse and this time I could tell it was a female. She couldn't be more than a couple of hundred yards away. I wanted to go and take a look but I had to be certain I didn't run into more than I could handle, so I made slow and not so steady progress.
Keeping trees between me and where I thought she was, I soldiered on, and then there she was. Standing in the middle of the stream with her back to me, she was apparently looking into the water and concentrating.
In only a few seconds I saw why. She bent over and eased a hand under the surface, reaching slowly. She was trying to tickle a fish. I'd heard of or maybe read that you can ease your hand under them and sometimes raise it quickly and throw them out onto the bank.
It's exactly what she did, jerking her whole body up as she brought up her arm and throwing the fish onto the bank where it flopped and flipped, but was stranded. She let out a contented little laugh this time instead of a curse, and then turned back to her business.
I knew she was busy working for her supper, but all I could think of was the sight or her great ass as she bent over and the wink of her pussy between the backs of her thighs. My newly replenished dick stood up in my pants and I concentrated on being silent.
It was probably ten minutes later when she got another one and this time she whirled around slightly and as her long brown hair fanned out, her large titties swung into view, wiggling and wobbling on her chest. I got a glimpse of half her face too; she was pretty, very pretty.
The two fish must have been enough for her because she turned and headed toward the bank. Misjudging the situation, I stepped from behind the tree, still nearly thirty feet from her, and spoke.
"Nice work," I said.
She whipped her head toward me and her mouth fell open as she gasped. The next thing I knew she turned away, fish forgotten, and made for the opposite bank, still naked as a Jay bird and running as fast as she could.
"Hey, wait," I said stupidly, as she hit the bank running and kept on going.
I didn't intend to let her get away without answering a few questions at least. I was through the stream and after her at once.
If this had been anything like the woods I was familiar with from home, she'd have gotten away. The scarcity of undergrowth here let me catch her easily though. She didn't have a chance of out running me and I could see her plainly.
As I caught up I put a hand out onto her upper arm. She turned, swinging wildly and connecting beside my nose with her clenched fist, then she was off again and trying to run faster.
I didn't bother trying to be so gentle when I caught up again. I tackled her from behind with arms around her waist. I didn't try to drive her into the ground, like I would have in my old high school football days, but I did get her on the ground and hold on.
She squirmed, twisted, and struck out like a wildcat, cursing me almost incoherently now and making an all out effort at escape. Finally I had to take hold of both her wrist and straddle her waist to hold her still.
She kept cursing me though, and a motherfucker was the best thing she called me, even while she accused me of several forms of incest with various relatives, even my father. I was beginning to think she didn't like me.
"What is your problem? I just want a little information from you," I said.
She didn't seem to pay me the slightest attention but she did change her tack.
"God dammit, I can't believe it. I've kept myself free for three damned years and let you slip up on me while I was fishing. I can't believe you caught me, I've always been able to outrun everyone else."
"There wouldn't be much chance of out running me since they put my age back. I could run a ten flat hundred when I was in high school and I'll bet I can again, now," I said, I was proud of it somehow.
"They put your age back. You mean they made you young again when they took you?" she asked.
"Yes, didn't they do it to you too?"
"No, I've heard some people talking about it but I didn't believe them, and I've tried to keep away from everyone so I haven't heard that much."
"You've been here three years, and you haven't made any clothes yet?" I asked, since it was the first thing that popped into my mind.
"Of course I have clothes, but I wasn't going to wear them in the water. How long have you been here anyway?" she asked, hopefully she was through cussing me out.
"I just got here this morning."
"God, you're new meat, brand new and you caught me on your first day here? God, I'm caught and embarrassed too," she said, almost moaning.
"What's the big deal about running so hard?" I asked.
"Well in case you don't know, not every woman wants to be caught, fucked, and made a slave, no matter what you've heard."
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I'd just wanted to ask her a few things. Then I asked myself why I wanted to tell her that. She expected me to fuck her and just between you and me, lying on top of her gorgeous naked body had my thoughts running to fucking too. Apparently it was the local custom and she hadn't even called it rape.
"Well you are caught and in my mind it's time for the fucking to start," I said, as I lowered my mouth to her lips.
She stiffened at first and then seemed to change her mind. The old line about lying back to enjoy it crossed my mind and after that, I quit trying to think and tried to enjoy things myself. Her tongue came into my mouth and I could feel her hips moving beneath me. She'd sure become acclimated to her fate faster than I could have hoped.
My jeans weren't doing anything good for my hard dick so I turned loose of her wrist and used my hands to shuck the web belt, holster and Glock. Thankfully I had sense enough to sling the rig far enough so she couldn't grab it without me noticing.
I unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them and my drawers down to my feet, trying my best to keep up the kissing and wiggling all the while. She sighed slightly as my hardon rubbed around in her bush and I took a titty in each hand to begin teasing her nipples.
As things heated up she became more enthusiastic and unexpectedly she reached between her legs for my dick and began rubbing the throbbing head between her pussy lips. I could feel that they were wet and I was about to push my way inside when a movement of her other hand caught my attention.
I barely saw it, out of the corner of my eye, as they say. She had located a good-sized rock, by feel I guess, and if I hadn't noticed and jerked my head away she'd have laid me out, no doubt about it. As it was, it scraped the side of my head and hurt like hell when it gashed my ear.
She'd had murder on her mind for sure, since it bruised her titty, which it struck after glancing off my head. My dick was still pressed against her entrance and I shoved it up her hard then.
She gasped and I nearly did too; she was tight. Her pussy was wet enough but she was really tight in there. I wasn't worried about it hurting her right now though because my ear and the side of my head were getting all my pity.
I'd grabbed her wrists again after I poked it to her; I held them and started stroking. She didn't help at first, only spreading her legs a little wider.
"You bastard! You slimy, new meat, raping bastard! I'll kill you for this if I get the chance," she told me.
Now she mentions rape, I thought it was a little late to bring it up myself. She wasn't through giving me hell, but she did start fucking back a little. It grew on her too, even though she didn't mention it and didn't slow down her verbal abuse. It was only minutes before her legs were around my hips and she was fucking me harder than I was fucking her.
She had wonderful pussy, it was hot inside and it pulsed around me at every stroke. A week ago I'd been resigned to driving a log truck and never fucking again for the rest of my life, now here I was on top of the hottest woman I'd ever had and I didn't even know her name yet. Those spacemen had something in their favor after all.
Since it had been a long while for me between fucks, I knew that my part of this one was nearly over, but from her antics I thought that she might be close herself. I knew I was right when she started moaning and I tried to hold on for a double finish.
"Oh God, oh God. Oh, Jesus. Oh. Oh," she wailed, giving me an Oh for every thrust.
Those were my sentiments exactly and when she yelled once more and tensed up all over, I let go of my load inside her and collapsed onto her body with two big titties for pillows. I wanted to go to sleep right away.
She didn't. When she felt me sag onto her she was out from under me and on the run in a second. Shit, I wanted to lie there but I wasn't about to let her get away. I stood, yanking up my drawers and jeans and took off after her. When I caught her this time I was able to grab her around the waist with my right arm and sling her over my left shoulder.
No doubt this pissed her off some more because she started pounding me on the lower back with her fists. She stopped when I gave her ass a good hard swat with my open hand and I carried her back past our recently departed love nest, picking up my web belt on the way, and continuing to the stream she'd been fishing in.
When we got there I tossed her in and followed. She came up sputtering but quickly recovered and splashed around some to get the dust off. I felt like getting naked and washing my now sticky dick, but I didn't dare. I strapped the belt back on and stayed close to her, hoping to avoid more chasing through the woods.
When she was done we climbed out on the side where she'd thrown her fish and they were still there. She went to her clothes and put them on. From the look of them she was good with a needle.
Her top was a sort of vest and it fastened in front with small pieces of what looked like bone as buttons, they were pushed through loops on the other side. There was the same type arrangement for the waist of her skirt. I didn't notice her putting on anything that resembled panties, and thinking about it, I guessed buckskin, even tanned as well as the rest of hers looked to be, wouldn't make very serviceable panties.
She had a nice looking backpack too and in fact, it looked much more complicated than her clothes, with several flaps and pockets and two good straps for her shoulders. She picked up her fish, which had strangely remained unmolested, and looked at me.
"What now, Master," she asked, making it sound as hateful as she could.
She was her own worst enemy in a way. Her flapping jaw had told me much more than she'd intended, I was sure. I hadn't dreamed of really getting a chance at her when I'd discovered her fishing. If she hadn't said that not every girl wanted to be captured, fucked, and enslaved I would have never dreamed that was what she expected.
Still her little tidbits of unintended information had led to a good time, for me anyway, and that suited me fine. As long as she intended to act like a slave, I'd be glad not to disappoint her, to a certain extent anyway.
"Now we head back to the clearing and my things. I was exploring for a way out of it when I heard you fishing," I said.
"You heard me fishing?" she asked.
"I heard you cursing, probably when you missed one."
Her look turned even more sullen at that and then she got tight jaws for a while. That suited me too; I could live without her giving me a cussing every minute or two. I led the way back to the trail I'd been following but I kept her in sight and made sure that she didn't lag.
When we reached the trail I turned back toward the clearing. She seemed a little relieved for some reason, but I couldn't understand why.
When we neared the barrier she looked almost happy. She must not have known that I could hold her hand and take her through it. I could tell that she was surprised when I did just that and I could almost hear her wondering if she could pass back through it without my help.
"The spacemen told me you couldn't pass the barrier either way without me, you might as well try it while we're close, it'll save you some running later," I said, when we were on the inside.
She gave me such a look of hatred and then did try to go through again, she couldn't. That made her give me an even nastier look.
"What? Do you think I did this? I didn't, but I wish I knew how. As it is you're locked up in here with me until I let you out.
"Cheer up, I'm not mean and I have enough food for a few days and the means to get more," I said.
"Oh, you won't have any trouble until you run out of ammunition, or you shouldn't if you know which end of that thing the bullet comes out of. Later, after you've shot all your shells up that won't be any better than a club," she said, making it sound like she was waiting anxiously for the day.
"Maybe so, but I've got plenty for a while and at least I won't be stealing your fish."
She couldn't help looking a little relieved for a second, but the frown came back almost at once.
"Now what," she asked.
"Why don't we go up to my truck and put together a little fire so you can cook your fish. You're probably hungry by now, after your exercise," I said, grinning.
She didn't think it was all that funny I guess. She turned in the direction I'd pointed, up the hill, and I guess she got her first look at my truck. She froze.
"What in the hell is that?" she asked.
"It's my truck, my log truck. It's the vehicle I was in when they got me. It took quite a bit of convincing to get them to let me bring it with me."
"You must be a lot smarter than you look to talk them into that. They wouldn't let me bring my car, since it wasn't paid for yet," she said.
"I'd pretty much have to be smarter than I look to even be able to breathe. Anyway, I'll bet that you're going to be glad I talked them into it too before long."
"What could make me glad about it?" she asked.
"I just thought sleeping in a real bed, inside something, would be nicer than sleeping on the ground or a tent if you have one. After all, both the heater and air conditioner work fine."
"You sleep in that thing?" she asked, amazed.
"Do you see that small room behind the cab? In technical truck driver lingo that's called a sleeper. It has a bed in it, a waterbed in fact, and it's damned comfortable, to me at least."
While she gathered some squaw wood for a fire, I went through my things some more and found my newly repaired cast iron skillet that hadn't been broken in the first place. The alien version that Chakal must have thought I needed was right beside it.
I couldn't help myself; I had to roam around in my information to find out why they thought I needed an alien skillet.
"It is no stick, similar to your Teflon, but it is not a coating and it is much better overall."
Didn't this beat all? The aliens that picked me up had done more for me than my own mother and father. I had everything I needed to live like a king here and I'd collected the first member of my harem in less than six hours. I even had a nice new frying pan for her, she should be happy at last.
She did seem surprised about the pan, and lo and behold she gave me a little smile. When I offered to fix up a few stones that she could set the pan on while cooking; she even thanked me.
I was kneeling down, trying to arrange the hot rocks among the coals so the pan would sit level and was saved by peripheral vision again. I dodged out of the way a split second before the damned frying pan I'd just given her would have knocked me out cold, at the least.
She didn't try to run this time, no doubt because she couldn't get away even if she could out run me. Her eyes bored defiantly into mine while she held the pan with her arms cocked back for another try.
"What is your name?" I asked, and all right, I guess I was yelling.
"Why do you want to know?" she yelled back.
"So I can have something to call you besides bitch."
"Karen," she said, almost meekly for a change.
"Well, Karen, put that damned frying pan down before I have to hurt you," I said, not yelling now but still meaning business.
She thought about it a minute and then set the pan down.
"Now, take your clothes off."
"Why?" she said, sounding a little unsure of what was going to happen.
"Because I'm going to spank you for that last stunt and I don't want to tear up your clothes in the process."
She looked at me almost with amazement. I could tell she wanted to say something else but wasn't sure what and wasn't sure she should. Finally she started taking the clothes off.
Damn, it would have almost been worth it to take a lick on the head for this. She even did it in a slightly teasing way, but without letting it show on her face.
Karen was a beauty. Her dark brown hair, brown eyes, and her dark completion went together perfectly and her other assets were more than perfect. With time to really look at her big breasts, I saw that they were not only large, but stood out proudly too, as if they didn't know enough about gravity to sag at all. Her hips were wide and shapely and from running to catch her earlier in the day, I already knew her ass was one to dream of.
When she was naked I took her by the hand to lead her near my truck. She resisted but came on after I tightened my grip and showed her I could pull her along even if she didn't want to come.
I sat on the fuel tank's step and she gasped when I pulled her over my knees. I didn't give her any other warnings or even tell her what a bad girl she'd been, I just gave her three sharp slaps on each of her beautiful ass cheeks. I let her stand after that and there were just hints of tears in the corners of both her pretty eyes.
"Now, stop trying to hit me with things. You can't get out of here for thirty days and there's nothing you can do about it," I said, trying to make sense.
"I guess your going to fuck me again now, you bastard," she said.
"Not right now. I'm trying to let you cook your fish and I was even trying to help you. I think I'll let you finish by yourself.
I did, and she did. I'd found her a tin plate to eat it from, I'd had two and thanks to Chakal I now had four. I even rustled her up a real fork to eat with, and for a few minutes at least she treated me like a human.
I wasn't about to ask her for any of the precious fish, so I opened my ice chest to make another baloney sandwich. Odd, I know that I'd idly put the empty Coke can back in the ice chest after I'd finished it. It was a stupid habit of mine, but there was no empty can in it now. I was almost afraid to search in my new knowledge section but finally I did.
The ice chest could do a similar trick to the ammunition containers. I should have known myself since the ice never melted. Apparently it did actually melt a little and then it was repaired. What a concept.
The fifty-four quart Igloo wasn't really an ice chest any longer. My info explained that it was actually something of a replicator. Any food packages I put in it would be repaired but it could also duplicate anything that would fit inside it. If the item I put in needed some type of repair, it would be repaired as it was duplicated.
This was just too damned good to be true, but it was what the information told me. I stopped what I was doing right then and found an empty Skoal can to put in there.
After some thinking I was very glad that I had such a large ice chest to start with. I knew there wasn't any chance of going hungry unless someone managed to get it away from me. I might get tired of baloney and cheese sandwiches after a while but I was sure that I'd never get tired of eating.
"Hey, Karen, would you like a Coke with your supper," I asked.
"Do you have one? Can I have it please? I haven't had a Coke in years," she said.
"Sure. Here ya go," I said, handing it to her and looking at my watch. I wanted to see how long it took for another one to appear.
I wasn't expecting it to just pop back in on demand, so to speak, but I checked about fifteen minutes later. Hell, the coke was back in place and it seemed to be cold already.