Mine is the same ol' story — an unsuspecting male, a cheating fem, and the male's revenge. Times and places may change, but affairs of the heart remain the same.
I had gotten back from a milk run to the Scorpio system — some backwater planet around a backwater sol, nothing special. We had dropped off a load of frozen sea krill into the designated ocean site (you've probably seen the commercials on the stereovid, "grown fresh on Terra Remota — favorite of all Cesto races!"), and picked up the 'gris for the return voyage. Big bucks, lemme tell you, but having to put up with the smell of that shit for weeks in the cargo hold takes a special type. Like someone without a sense of smell.
I called the 'gris 'shit', but someone once told me that was actually cesto barf. That I can believe. Kinda weird, a planet that barfs up its major export, but it takes all kinds. And it brings the big credits because it is used in all of the best goodsmells products and for making Cestowiski, the most potent, smoothest, firejuice that has ever run the back of a spacer's throat.
Believe me, I can't afford the stuff myself, but we once did a run to one of the really remote mining stations. I don't care how many credits or Cestowiski you paid me, that place was WAY too far from civilization! Needless to say, there was some "breakage" on that run. Hey ... they expect a certain percentage of loss on cargos like that.
Oh yeah, let me introduce myself. My name is Herc (for Hercules) Manly.
Why Hercules: my mom was an AgathaChris fan, especially of the classic Hercules Poi histories — you know, the detective with massive strength who lived on planet Olympus.
I grew up on stories of his exploits, like when he died on the Nile (some sort of ocean) or the time on the Orient Express starship, and when he cleaned out the Augean Horse (a kind of quadped sentient creature) abode.
As for Manly — if I do say so myself, I'm a rather manly man. I stand about 1.72 meters, and weigh 59 kg., which is, lemme see, about 7 feets 5 inchos (or maybe 5 feets and 7 inchos, I can't remember those ancient conversions.) and about 130 lbs (I haven't got a clue where "lubs" came as a measure of weight.) That is about as large as you can be and still be on a spacer crew — as the SpacNav motto says, "every gram, every centimeter costs."
As you may have gathered from my job description, I am the Captain of a space transporter. Sure, I know, not as exciting as the little fighter craft, but the SpacNav, where I learned my trade, needed skilled drivers for the big stuff too. Troop transports, logistic suppliers, I've driven all of the big rigs. But the mucho money is in the long-haul bulk transporters. Ergo, that's what I took up after finishing my hitch at SpacNav.
I guess that being flush with credits is no guarantee that your contract-femcreature will stay loyal to you while you're off for a couple months at a time earning her daily caloric intake.
As I started to tell you, I had just finished a quick round trip, and we had been very lucky — didn't have to detour for scheduled space debris, no stops for sol radiation flares. We only had to fight off some local "salvagers" once, and after we shot a 50 gig megaburst over their bow (just to let them know that we were feeling feisty) they fired their reverse thrusters hard and fast, all the time apologizing for "mistaking" us for an abandoned derelict. The net result was that I got back about 7 solStandard days early.
Anyway, I was back on terrafirma early, looking forward to a home-cooked meal, and sleeping in my own bed, a huge AeroliftsU mattress ("lifts U on a cushion of air," and worth every credit) in my own comfy abode.
I hopped in an autoGetThere cab (when you're gone as long as I am, its still cheaper than the long-term park-it lot), spoke my address into the navsys, ran my payitnow chip on the reader, and off I went. I sat back as the cab made its way thru traffic from the S'port, until it reached the landing porch of the citypod where my abodeunit was located about 30 meters above the valley floor.
Of course my abodeunit was the top quality that credits could buy, spacious, well quieted, with actual windows (double UV stoppers) split with two levels, the inCommon rooms on the first floor — where we cooked, ate, and met with friends, and familyOnly rooms on the second level.
I stepped from the landing porch into the entry, and didn't hear anything.
"Hello?" I queried.
There wasn't any answer.
I stepped in, wondering where my beloved femcreature was, although in the middle of the day she could be anywhere — shopping, being beautified, visiting, who knew.
I put my small space bag on the floor, walked over to the instocool, and pulled out a brueski. Screwing around with the stereovid to check the local WhasGoin'on, I accidentally hit the home monitor code instead, and suddenly I got the shock of my life.
My heart was in my mouth, and then it broke, because in front of me on the stereovid was my femcreature, bent over our completely adjustable, six-way SexHere chair, being pronged by my former XO. I knew at that moment that our contract was null and void — right before I told the VidSys to "keep it on mem".
I knew that I would need the digiFiles for when my legalmouth filed the eforms for Contract Dissolution on her.
Ah ... my femcreature, her name is Pussy, at least in GalaxStan lingua. Her birth name sounded similar to "pussy" so she adopted it when she left her home planet, XoXoDack, for the "big city." It seemed right to me as well, because Pussy is so cat-like in many ways. First are her large almond shaped eyes, and she moves with what can only be called a feline grace.
Pussy is close to the same height as I am, but thinner. She is equipped with "breasts" that are slightly larger than would be normal on such a slight frame. Her skin is a very light shade of lavender, and she is humanoid in her overall shape, although that is very deceptive. She is not from a humanoid race, and because of our different genomes (I have, I forget, 24 or 26 chromosomos; Pussy has 84, ) we can't interbreed. Not that we can't enjoy sex, just no children will come of it.
The XoXoDacks also differ in some other critical ways; she has two vaginas (according to Pussy, they call them "bratbreedingholes" in XoXoDackese) and "breasts" that look humanoid, although with a BIG difference. Pussy can control the shape of her breasts, and in their relaxed state they look humanoid. She can also puff up the nipples a bit, if she wants to be aroused. But Pussy can also extend her cones about five inchos until they look like a couple of small penises, which is a clue to how things work on XoXoDack.
Pussy and I have used her breasts in all modes, everything to my sucking, playing and cumming with them like breasts, and sometimes she has extended them into the "penis" state for me to suck until she "cums" spraying her juice into my mouth, and a couple of times, when I have over imbibed she has flipped me over on my stomach, come up behind me and, well you can guess.
As a manly man, I wasn't too happy the next AM with my ass feeling rather stretched, but when Pussy is in a "male" mood, I sometimes have to make concessions. I've gotten used to it. Pussy is the living proof of the ol' saying, "Once you've had XoXoDack, you'll never go back!"
When I first met Pussy, she was working for one of the big trading zaibatsus — MitsuMitsubSumi — placing cargos for shipping. They had their own transports for the major runs, but used indyshippers like me for the more out of the way, and one-timer trips.
Not to mention the trips that were either too dangerous or illegal for their own wimpy captains.
I didn't fall into the "wimpy" category, and I started taking on some of the higher risk (meaning highly paid) trips. My rig is fast, I'm a good driver, and I don't hesitate to shoot first and ask the big Q's later. SpacNav training will do it every time.
After a couple of runs I noticed that Pussy seemed to kind of 'purr', its the only way to describe it, when I came into the office for my CreditsPaid confirmation. I guess that my rough good looks, plus a certain recklessness, lent me a kind of panache that attracted Pussy.
We dated for a time (in between my frequent jobs) and over time I sampled Pussy's various charms. After one of these bacchanalian sessions, as I lay exhausted from our recent mutual pleasures, Pussy let me know that she wouldn't mind making our arrangement exclusive and permanent.
Pussy and I went down to the Contract Office and filed our agreement. We made it exclusive, but we set it for seven years, with an auto-renewal for seven more years, without objection. We had just passed the autorenew date of seven years a couple of months ago, and neither of us had made any objection, so it renewed for another seven.
Getting our initial contract officialized (thumb prints, DNA samples, e-record sent to the database on GalaxPrime) we returned to my place and had a wonderful Contract party, with some of Pussy's friends from work, and my entire regular crew — at the time three of us.
My purser was an older fem named Marta, and she took care of all of the account and businessy functions. Making sure we got paid for our payloads was high on Marta's list.
Marta is a humo like me, originally from some aggie planet that produces ugly women who spend a lot of time watching the animals rut, wondering why their husbands aren't as well endowed as the bullcows and boarpigs. As for Marta, who was short but thick, I started to wonder if watching all that animal sex had permanently damaged her psyche.
.... There is more of this story ...