Sammy Lightyear and the Pixie of Doom


Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, Consensual, Lesbian, Hermaphrodite, Science Fiction, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Space tramp extraordinaire Sammy Lightyear finds more than she bargained for while slumming between jobs.

"So what do you have for me, Rob?" Sammy Lightyear asked. She was currently ensconced in a comfortable overstuffed chair in front of her shipping agent's desk. She was dressed like a typical spacer chick; black leather jacket over a black tee-shirt that sported a white skull and cross bones, in her case a well worn jacket stitched with the insignia of the Imperial Fleet on both arms and over the left breast pocket and black denim shorts over tight black hose which disappeared into a pair of black leather boots which were polished until they were gleaming.

Her agent smiled at Sammy from across the desk. Sammy was one of his favorite Spacers to work with. She was competent and cool headed and rarely gave him grief. She was also attractive and friendly which was rare for Spacer types who tended to be leathery and cranky in his experience.

"Well, let me see," Robert said as he checked new freight listings on his computer. "Several possibilities. I'll read them off to you and you can tell me what suits you." He cleared throat and then started through the listings "At the top of list we have a cargo run to Merco. The job is for Universal Standard and pays two thousand Imperials plus fuel costs and docking fees."

"Not bad," was Sammy's verdict. "It'd be a profitable run even if I had to pay fuel and docking costs out of that two grand. Definitely bookmark that one, if nothing else better shows up I'll take it."

"Right-o, considered it marked," he said as he scanned the next listing. "Next up, a run to Esphodia. However this job is listed by our 'friends' over at Galaxywide-"

"Fuck no!" Sammy spat out, cutting Robert off. "No way will I ever do another job for those assholes again. Bunch of cheap motherfuckers over there and on top of it they're fucking pricks as well. Where the fuck is this Esphodia planet anyway?"

"Not surprised you never heard of it," Robert said. "It's a frontier world, in the Outer Rim in fact. Hadn't heard of it myself until recently when a previous cargo run to that planet came through this office."

"Just out of curiosity what does the run pay?" she asked.

"About what you'd expect from our pals at Galaxywide," Robert replied. "Five hundred Imperials. And that's for everything, fuel, docking fees and even my fifteen percent."

"For a run out to the ass end of nowhere," Sammy grunted. "Typical of those bastards. Probably would have to dead head the return trip to a civilized system just to find a paying cargo run. I'm pretty sure I'd end up losing money on that run. No thanks. Next?"

"I agree, you'd have be pretty stupid to take the job and stupid you're not," Robert said. "Next we have another cargo job. This time for Galactic Starways going to Selena. Pays fifteen hundred Imperials but you have to pay fuel and docking costs out of that."

"That Merco run is sounding better all the time," Sammy observed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, something else all right, something that sounds too good to be true," Robert said.

Sammy idly wrapped her dark curly hair around a finger. "So out with it already."

"Well, a run to Palisadae. Pays ten thousand Imperials."

If Sammy had been drinking anything she would have done a spit take. "Ten thousand! That's got to be wrong!"

"That's what I thought at first too," Robert said, "but no, it's a confirmed ten thousand. Job is posted by an outfit called Specialty Cargo Limited. As their name suggests they mostly deal in specialty items, vintage wine, valuable art pieces, all sorts of antiquities really. It doesn't specify what the cargo is but you can be sure it's extremely delicate and valuable."

"Sounds easy enough," she said. "Of course it's stuff like that which attracts pirates."

"Are you going to be scared off from this job by pirates?" Robert asked.

Sammy snorted at the ridiculous idea. "Hell no. I want that fucking ten grand and any pirate who gets in my way is gonna find themselves with bloody stumps for arms and legs."

"So I take it you want this job then?"

"Yup, sign me up, Rob," Sammy told him.

"Will do," Robert replied. "I'll submit a job request and send your resume. You're more than qualified and your safety rating is superb. You've handled fragile specialty items before, right?"

"You know I have, Rob. More than once through this office."

"Right, well there you go, I'll give you my personal recommendation," he said as he leaned back in his chair. "There, it's sent. Now all we can do is wait for confirmation. Could take awhile depending on how busy they are right now. There's no point in you hanging out here in the meantime. Go out and have a few drinks, take the edge off. I'll call you when I get a reply."

"Sounds good," Sammy said as she stood up from the overstuffed chair. "If it falls through sign me up for the Merco run. Thanks."

"Will do, Sammy."

Sammy found herself the type of bar she usually patronized. Quiet and nearly empty but for a few scattered customers who mostly sat at the bar and nursed the beer of their choice. With most of the patrons seated at the bar drinking beer Sammy naturally ordered a whiskey on the rocks and sat at an empty booth.

Ideally she would have liked to have gone to a nightclub for the chance to pick up a partner for the night but previous such experiences rarely worked out well. Trying to pick up girls for a night of steamy sex was usually a losing proposition for her. On top of that she didn't really like crowds of noisy kids mixed with an abundance of alcohol. So it was that she found herself in Sammy's Sadsack Saloon as she mentally dubbed it. A place where she could drink alone with all the other sadsacks in the neighborhood.

She took a sip of the whiskey and then fished a packet of cigarettes from her breast pocket. She put the cigarette between her lips and lit it, sucking deeply and filling her lungs with smoke. The cigarette was old and stale but she closed her eyes and savoured her cigarette regardless.

A very young sounding voice broke her peaceful silence. "Those things will kill you, you know."

Sammy opened her eyes. Sitting on the opposite side of the table in her booth was a very young girl. She looked to be around twelve or so, although Sammy realized she wasn't the best judge of age. The girl in question though was very young and very thin. She also had pink hair and big dark brown eyes. However, the biggest surprise besides her obvious young age was the tumbler of whiskey she herself had.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sammy demanded, glaring at the girl.

"At the moment? Trying to save you from cancer," the girl replied. "Beyond that? Same as you; enjoying the whiskey and the silence."

"Yeah, well I was enjoying the whiskey and the silence until now," Sammy quipped. "I was even enjoying my cigarette. Now of all people I really think you're the last one who should be lecturing about healthy lifestyles."

"Huh? Why is that?"

Sammy took another deep drag off of the cigarette, held her breath for a few moments before blowing the smoke back out. "Drinking whiskey at your age? Worse than smoking cigarettes if you ask me."

"My age, what's that supposed to mean?" Sammy's visitor retorted.

"What are you? Twelve years old?" Sammy asked.

"Twelve years-," a look of anger flashed across the girl's pretty face. "No, I'm not twelve years old! What, you think I'm some Earther girl?"

"You're not?" Sammy said, her curiosity pricked.

"No, I'm one hundred per cent Pengoran!" the pink haired girl said heatedly. "You fucking Earthers, always assuming everyone is an Earther like you! Fuck, now I'm sorry I came here. This shit seriously is putting me in a bad mood." She slid out of the booth and stood up. "Sorry for bothering you. I gotta go."

"Sorry about your mood," Sammy said. "I had no idea you were a Pixie. Anyway, you know what they say about assuming something. You make an ass out of you and me. You know, ass/u/me?"

"That's nice," the Pengoran said turning away from Sammy and heading towards the exit. "Seeya."

"Sure, seeya," Sammy said. "But before you leave I just want to set the record straight. I'm not an Earther girl either."

The little Pixie girl stopped in her tracks. "You're not? What are you then?"

"One hundred percent Futanari."

The pink haired Pixie was instantly sitting across the table from Sammy again. "You should have said so in the first place!" She rubbed her hands together with glee. "And I was just planning on picking up a cute Earther girl tonight but to think I found myself a real Futanari. My luck is so awesome!"

"So, you were trying to pick me up?" Sammy asked, somewhat surprised.

"Still am, actually," the girl said. "What are my chances?"

"They'd probably be a lot better if I knew your name," Sammy said drily.

At this the girl's face colored a bright red. "You must think I'm really rude. I'm sorry! My name is Aerie. It's nice to meet you, Miss Lightyear."

Sammy shrugged. "You can call me Sammy. And your chances just got better."

"First name basis already," Aerie said. "That sounds promising. So how much better are my chances now?"

Sammy chuckled, her eyes glittered with amusement as she considered the girl sitting across the table from her. "Better. I'm still a little torqued about you mistaking me for an Earther girl."

"Hey, you did the same thing!" Aerie protested.

"Yeah, but I didn't get all huffy and make a scene when you did it to me," Sammy pointed out.

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