A Log Truck Driver In Outer Space
Chapter 16

Copyright┬ę 2007 by cmsix

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 16 - 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.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Consensual   NonConsensual   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Humor  

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"Suit yourself. Do you want to remove this thing from my front yard before I shoot at it this time?" I asked, but apparently he didn't because it sat there silently.

Two clips later I figured that the damned one-man space outhouse would never move again without serious repair. I thought it was a little odd that they'd been so stubborn they wouldn't even move it out of my range, but what the hell, it was their flying shitter.

Carl, Scotty, and I went over to visit with our guest since there didn't seem to be any more communication coming right now. It was in worse shape than I thought at first. There were loads of puncture wounds all over him and a large part of them were on the ass. I guess that was understandable.

I wanted to find out his name at least, so I'd have something better than motherfucker to call him. I didn't get time to get a word out though because the begging started right up as soon as we were close enough to hear it yelling. Myself, I thought its attitude adjustment was just in time. That didn't keep me from enjoying his pissing and moaning about the pain.

"You can save your breath dipshit. I don't give a damn how bad you hurt. I was thinking of applying something to your wounds, but apparently you can still prevent us from doing direct damage and I found I couldn't even pick up the salt when I went to get it.

"What's your name?" I asked, but got no answer.

"So, you think you can keep the dogs off you now?" I asked.

"My name is Blatfo. Please, my wounds are killing me," Blatfo said.

"They're going to keep that up too. Unless we get some cooperation out of that Captain you are going to die chained to the tree," I said.

"But we've researched your species thoroughly and especially those who call themselves Americans. You don't allow cruel and unusual punishment," he said.

"Once again the research department has let you down. When and if you ever get hold of the research department again asks them about payment in kind. If you do happen to live over this, which I doubt, you might talk to Bandor about how they helped him with his first assignment. By the way, I'm not so much an American as I am a redneck. The difference seems to be causing your people no end of confusion," I said.

"But we are not as robust as you. My wounds will surely kill me without treatment," Blatfo said.

"Well the Captain must not be so worried about you then. He cut off communications. The flying crapper went dead even before I shot it up," I said.

"But why would he do that?"

"And you're asking me this question?" I asked.

"I don't understand at all. What were you talking about when the communications came to a close?" Blatfo asked.

"The last thing he told me was that it was impossible for me to speak to the shop steward," I said.

"Shop steward? The ship's union steward?"

"Yes. That's who I wanted to talk to," I said.

"But why?" Blatfo asked.

"Any union man talks to the shop steward when he has trouble with the bosses," I said.

"But you weren't a union man," Blatfo said.

"If it hadn't been so tragic for most of the people you've kidnapped I'd be laughing at your stupid ass. A union man is a union man still, even if he takes a job doing something else where there isn't a union. Since there doesn't seem to be a union for the detainees on this planet, I though the steward on board would help me try to get one started down here," I said, and Blatfo shuddered.

"But unions are always counter productive," Blatfo said.

"Counter productive? What kind of fucking production do you think you're getting here, idiot? We aren't producing anything. What you really mean to say is that unions are always keeping you higher-ups from bending the workers over and fucking them up the ass anytime you want to," I said.

"But what about me? I'll die without proper medical care," Blatfo said, and sounded really pitiful when he did.

"Then, if the Captain doesn't send down another out house, you're a dead man, and just think what a great example it will be for the next asshole administrator who wants to bend the rules because he thinks he won't get caught," I said.

After that, Blatfo looked like a bust as far as useful information went, so Carl, Scotty, and I headed back to the bus. Jane and Gloria were there with my five wives and every damned woman in sight was cooking something. I was a happy man.

Two hours later I was thinking about getting the guitar out again and doing a few songs to pass the time. I didn't because I was still too full to suck in enough wind to sing. It was just as well though because a little tickling in my head let me know that a crapper replacement was arriving.

Sure enough another flying shitter set down beside the one I'd ventilated. This one stopped its annoying mind trick at once and when the door opened, a spaceman walked out and told me he was Kartot, shop steward for the ship now in orbit. I promptly thanked him for coming.

"It is I that should thank you. Chakal sent me a message regarding you and what a pleasure it had been to repair your possessions. I could barely believe the amount of things you were able to bring with you. After seeing the way you have handled the idiots in charge I have an inkling of how you did it," Kartot said.

"I'm glad that I could help out with that, but I'm even happier that Captain Jotit decided to let me speak with you," I said.

"Basically he had no choice. He knew full well that it was illegal for him to deny anyone the ability to talk to the shop steward. We simply wobbled the job until he came to his senses. Of course all the major and minor Artificial Intelligences honored our job action since we are all members of the Spaceworkers Union.

"As earthlings say, Captain Jotit was up shit creek without a paddle," Kartot said.

"I guess my next question is about the situation here. If the information Chakal gave me is correct, none of the stated guidelines are being followed. Can the union help me in any way?" I asked.

"We will do all we can, but we aren't allowed to organize non-species participants in these experiments. Personally, if I were you I'd get a lawyer. You surely have grounds for a suit," Kartot said.

"That sounds like excellent advice but I have no way to contact one and no way to know which lawyer or firm might be proficient."

"Contact is no trouble. Chakal installed the proper equipment for you but he didn't see fit to let you in on the secret. Most of the information that you have accessed is resident on the satellite. If you ask for instructions they will appear to you.

"Choosing a lawyer seems like what you might call a no-brainer to me. The honorable Jotalta Caldonton represented Elvis and he was able to make a lucrative settlement. In fact the bosses were hoping that you would never learn his name," Kartot said.

"I'll bet they were. I can't believe how they've been cheating people out of their possessions for all these years. Without a doubt several people have lost their lives from being without their possessions, not to mention the women who were raped and other terrible things that befell innocent subjects," I said.

"Without their possessions? All people are allowed to bring their possessions and we have the pleasure of repairing them," Kartot said.

"Well, I beg to differ. I've heard that I was allowed to bring more of my possessions than anyone so far and I didn't even get my most important ones," I said.

"What?"

"You didn't know that they never let anyone bring their homes. The rules specifically allow that but the only homes here are the ones that were portable," I said.

"We were always told that individuals without homes were selected, unless their homes were what you call trailer houses," Kartot said.

"Of course the bosses wouldn't lie to you," I said, and watched the light shine for him.

"If you'd like I will have a union executive contact Jotalta Caldonton on your behalf. Like any executive he is a bastard, but he is our bastard, bought and paid for."

"That would be nice," I said, and then we said our goodbyes and Kartot left.

Apparently Captain Jotit got the happy news that I now had a handle on my in the head phone shortly after Kartot returned to the ship, because he gave me a call.

"Mr. Billy Joe Stephens, I want to apologize for the misunderstanding we had earlier. I wasn't aware that you had a lawyer," the Captain said, and I nearly laughed out loud.

"I don't yet, but I'm betting I can get one pretty damned quickly. Kartot said he would contact Jotalta Caldonton on my behalf. If he won't represent me I'm sure he can make an acceptable suggestion," I said.

"I see," Captain Jotit said, and the speaker went off.

An hour later I got a call from Kartot.

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