Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mult, Consensual, TransGender, Science Fiction, Robot, Space, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Petting, Exhibitionism, Caution, Violent, sci-fi adult story,sci-fi sex story,adult science fiction story.
Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Bingo is a hard luck fucktoy looking to make a reputation as a cold blooded killer, but before he can do that she has to shop the Lolita Game, hook up with a reformed sex addict; and find his guardian angels - a hacker named Stan and his ethereal girlfriend, Sally. Life on Broken Window is kinda like that sometimes.
"I gotta go someplace, baby," Leon said with a reckless grin. "Don't pull that shit now."
His scarred, black face lost only a fraction of it's menace, but he didn't scare me too much. I'd started rubbing up against him in his BMW, massaging his fat cock through his pants. He had a thing for little boys and he'd fallen for me hard.
"No, you don't," I giggled, squeezing him. "You gotta fuck me, that's what you gotta do."
"Aw, bitch..." He laughed. "I'll fuck the shit outta you later. I gotta do some business now."
"Just quick, please?" I spread my legs under the dome light; it was getting late, like midnight out behind the Cipher Six. He could see my hairless scrotum and smallish erection just fine, and he licked his thick lips.
"Yeah. Quick, huh?" He was so predictable.
"Take it out for me. I got a popper," I promised, giggling again cause Leon loved it when I played cute just for him.
So he lifted his ass off the seat, working at his belt as I went digging through my pack like I had some of that cock candy he liked so much. And just about the time he had that big ugly prick loose, I put a 7.7mm bullet into his right ear. And that seventy-seven was so quiet, I heard the splat of Leon's brains hitting the glass on the opposite side.
"Bingo," I breathed, jamming the gun back into my pack. I reached across his skewed legs, the left still twitching and tapping his foot to a whatever song they were playing in hell. I found the trunk release and popped it with a dull thud.
"Reon?" someone asked, high pitched and rolling the L impatiently.
"Bingo," I answered as the door opened slowly.
"Who the fuck is you?" The Chinese guy stared down at me, or maybe he was Vietnamese, I didn't care. He wasn't from around there anyway.
"Special delivery." I held up the cheap briefcase I carried, but just a little cause it was heavy.
"I don't like this shit," a girl standing behind him said, old, like in her twenties, with too much makeup. She looked like a pro and we didn't like each other right away, I could tell.
"I'll tell Leon," I shrugged, turning around, but the guy stopped me.
"Get inside." He jerked his head and there were three of them. Two guys and the woman, all oriental, all gunned up and nervous. Amateurs.
"Here," the other guy said. He was short and round and holding a little briefcase of his own, nicer than mine, but just as heavy. He put it on the bed and I nodded, putting mine next to it. We opened them together.
"This shit good?" He looked at my briefcase, twelve kilos of pharmaceutical quality starlight.
"Just like you wanted. This money good?" I stared up at him, being just a little boy and not even close to five feet tall.
"Nine hundred. You want to count it?" the woman asked me.
"No." I shook my head, ignoring her tone. "Leon says if you need more, let him know."
"How come he ain't here?" the tall guy asked, because he'd been wondering.
"Cause he's busy fuckin' my mom." I shot him a frown, so maybe he believed me, maybe not. It didn't matter, I had what I wanted.
Nine hundred grand was a lot of trouble. Nobody carried cash like that, not anymore, not on Broken Window, but now I did and I didn't like it. The moons had already set and it had to be almost four in the morning, and I was bone tired. I had a stim and some pink meth, but I was saving that shit for an emergency, cause you never know.
The club was loud and it ran night and day, nonstop. People were in the streets, coming in and out. I passed a Chinese place next door with chickens in the window, and a tattoo shop on the other side. I kept thinking about it, but I couldn't ever make up my mind. Across the street, a big neon Jesus promised salvation and soup. All you had to do was listen to the rollers make their spiel. I'd eaten there plenty of times and the clam chowder was okay if you strained it.
A bouncer was busy kicking the shit out of his girlfriend, or maybe his sister from sound of it. Either way, he ignored me and I went down the stairs, into the basement where it felt like you were in the middle of an earthquake cause of the music and stomping feet of a thousand doped up kids upstairs. Some of those freaks would dance til their feet were bleeding, until they'd pass out, and even then they kept dancing, the crowd holding their bodies up, moving it around.
I heard of a girl who got fucked up there, gangbanged for a couple hours until they figured out she was dead. Overdosed probably and she never even hit the floor. But there's always a lot of stories like that around and you never know what's true and what isn't, not on this planet anyway. Broken Window ain't like the other ones.
"Hey, slut ... You want somethin'?" Some oiled up beefcake grinned at me, squeezing his cock all wrapped in leather.
I blew him a kiss and kept going, walking through the Gutter, the basement bar where all the sick fucks lived. I slipped around some girl with a dick, sucking off a guy painted green. Right behind therm, a vampire chick happily nursed on her girlfriend's ass, bending her over the table and sucking blood, black under the red lights, while another Goth goddess strapped her undead ass with a stainless dildo.
These were the addicts, the sex mongers, and it wasn't my thing. Sex was what I did, but only when I had to. It wasn't what I was good at. That would be killing. I was really fucking good at that and it's the reason I'd come down there, making my way through the crowd, weaving and holding that nine hundred kay close because I needed every dime.
I found the door I wanted. There were a lot of them, but this was the one and inside was the guy. Old too, like nobody's fuckin' business how old, and he sat at his desk, working a number cruncher while his little kids toted numbers on an old blackboard. The place was dusty with chalk and smoky too. It made my nose itch like I wanted to sneeze.
"I'm looking for a game," I told him, because he wasn't gonna talk first. He wasn't even going to look at me until I said something. He was the Dealer.
Then he did look, sitting back and taking in my pale body, the tight red hipsters, all fake leather and cheap. My tight little white top, like half a t-shirt ripped around my tummy. No tits, just hard nipples poking out like needles. Short blonde hair, pulled straight back so it was hanging just below my shoulders. Dark eyes, sapphire blue in the daytime, but pitch black at night and in shitty little rooms like this one.
"Lolita game?" He gaped at me, the inside of his mouth all pink and wet. "Little fucky fucky game?"
"Wrong room, fucky fucky boy!" one of the girls giggled. She was all dressed in green rubber and pierced hard through her nipples. Real hard.
"Cards," I stared at the Dealer. "Five hundred, right?"
"Non-refundable." He lit a death stick and breathed green smoke out his long hairy nose.
"And 400 on me..." I dropped the briefcase on his cluttered desk with a little whump, " ... to win."
"That's the only bet in town." He coughed a little, hacking and jerking his head so the boy hiding behind him, this one all tattooed up and castrated, could get the case.
"Nine, Daddy," the boy said a minute later. He'd tossed stacks on a scale while we watched.
"A dark horse," the old man wheezed. "Put him 30 to one, second race. Starts on Tuesday, midnight. You got a drop?"
"St. Peters, under the Virgin," I nodded.
"Stand still," Green Girl said, taking a snapshot of me. "You got a name fucky fucky boy?"
"Bingo," I shrugged, it was as good as any other and I was used to it now.
"Midnight Tuesday," the Dealer talked around his smoke. "You know the rule?"
"Last one standing." I stared back at him. "Anything else?"
"Nope," he cackled. "They're gonna love you."
The game is easy. There's seven players and everybody gets six cards, plus your own. The cards have pictures and names, that's all, a little bio and some odds stuff, but nothing that's gonna be any real help. There's one for every player. They're wired too. Green is good, red is dead. The winner of the game is the one still breathing when all the other players aren't.
Leave the city and you quit. Your card turns grey and you're out, still breathing, but five hundred grand poorer and without a shred of reputation. On Broken Window reputation is everything. People who played cards would rather die than lose that.
My problem was that I didn't have one yet. That's why I got the long odds though, so it was cool. There'd be a couple people with short odds, really short, because they'd played before and won. A few others would be in the middle, local hitters or maybe a mechanic running from Sol, hiding out and looking for the other life.
I was the long shot and thirty to one was low probably, but I'd dumped four hundred kay cash on myself, so that brought the odds down quick, but they'd go up, and then go down again as cards turned red. I figured when I collected I'd be looking at eight to one maybe, when it was just me and one other.
The real money came from the scores, cause my four wasn't just sitting on the end, it was banking the kills too. That's where the real dope was. Winning just meant you got to collect it. If I got all six, got the sweep, I'd be set for life, maybe. But that was some serious chicken counting and I pushed it out of my head.
I needed some cash now, since I'd just given all mine away. I needed funds cause the game was being dealt in two days and I didn't have a home. I had my pack and my clothes and my seventy seven millie, but those were just stuff. Mostly I had brains and body and I was willing to use both.
I found my sugar in another club, a nice one catering to the other sick fucks who wandered into town on vacation. They stayed uptown, where the cops were thick and little boys like me got the hard eyes, and all I had to do was step on a crack to get my ass tossed. But that was just a risk and even carrying the piece I'd only be looking at a couple hours of interrogation anyway. The cops wouldn't keep me; they'd just bang the fuck out of me and toss me back into the ever lovin' arms of Jesus.
It had happened before, and I liked my chances.
"Oh, precious!" The woman kept smiling at me and her man, her husband, nodded agreeably.
They were older, thirties maybe, all pasty white and clean. I could smell soap beneath the cologne and perfume and I smiled shyly. This was the Lolita game in all its glory, the Fucky Fucky game, but I wasn't splitting profits. I could find my own marks just fine.
They were window shopping, looking for something small and pretty like they couldn't get back on Earth, but they were afraid to go to the bad part of town, so the bad part came to them. Boys and girls, all ages and sizes and colors, walking around and looking for a bed. A pretty little boy like me was always in demand though; there just weren't enough of us to go around.
"Check him," the woman whispered, clutching her husband's arm.
"Let me see your finger, sweetie," the man said and I held out my hand, biting my lower lip because that's what they liked to see.
It was just a blood test, just a prick and the little pen looking device sampled my blood, data scrolling across the tiny screen as he held it up so they could read it together. I was clean, innocent and pure and ripe for all the sex they'd ever imagined.
"Perfect," the man smiled at me and his wife licked her lips. "How much?"
"How long?" I asked, sliding my thumb inside the waistband of my pants, moving it along my soft tummy.
"Tonight, tomorrow..." He looked at his wife and she nodded. "Two nights."
That sounded perfect to me and I smiled, giving them a tiny shrug. "Twenty thousand."
"Twenty?" the woman blinked. "That's a lot."
"Ten," the man suggested, which was about how much I was worth in that market, but I could get more.
We settled on sixteen thousand and I opened my pack, finding my PDU, my Personal Data Unit. I had a good one, a Nokia about the size of a cracker and wafer thin. I'd gotten it hot off a blacksmith, probably swiped from some tourist like these two. It got stripped, scrubbed, and sold clean to me just for bending over the guy's forge.
Now it was mine, with my ID and all the stuff that made me a real person. Everything anyone wanted to know about me, from medical history to criminal background to travel authorization, it was all there. But that wasn't much at all, since I was just a kid.
I thumbed it, calling up a little display in front of me, and I manipulated the hologram so I could see my Interzonal Credit Account, my money, which totaled 1377 credits just then. The man quickly changed that though, feeding me sixteen grand more and I was satisfied.
I smiled at the couple, zipping my pack closed, hooking the small black bag over my shoulder, and they smiled back, being the proud new owners of a sexy little boy. Naturally they couldn't wait to play with me.
"Oh yeah, Precious ... Suck momma's clit..."
The woman looked pretty enough on the outside, even beautiful the way rich people are, the ones who can afford the really good DNA. She was tall and platinum haired, with high cheek bones and sparkling blue eyes that looked expensive. Her body was pink and soft all over, so she must have had a nice dermal bath recently. There wasn't so much as a mole to ruin it, at least not so far as I could see.
But I'd only seen her legs so far, a little bit of her hips and the insides of her creamy thighs.
She had me on my knees, licking her rich blonde pussy while she sipped champagne on the sofa with her husband. He had his cock free, long and hard, and I had my little fist wrapped around it, pumping him slowly up and down.
We were in the piano bar at the Four Seasons, the hotel they were staying at, and some of the other patrons were watching, but it wasn't a big deal. Nobody came to Broken Window for anything but pleasure and a lot of the other guests had their own little toys to play with.
Somewhere behind me a girl was being raped, a small one too by the sound of her crying. The man doing it was Japanese and I'd avoided those guys when I'd been shopping earlier. He had a little cheering section and for the Four Seasons that would be going a little too far, even on this world. They'd be asked to take their party upstairs soon, I thought, and I mighta felt sorry for the girl, but I probably didn't know her.
What we were doing was just fine though. The man and his wife talked a little, about mundane things like their work and kids and getting the swimming pool cleaned, I don't know. It wasn't my business anyway and they were just doing it because it was a real luxury to be eaten out in the middle of an uptown bar like it was nothing.
"Is it good?" the man asked his wife and she was shaking, her thighs starting to press against my flushed cheeks.
"Oh Yesssss..." she hissed.
I knew what she liked now. She was into her clit big time and while she didn't mind it when I tongued her thin pink hole, she loved it when I sucked and teased her throbbing clitoris. The man sighed, enjoying my little hand job, feeling my small fingers squeezing him blindly, his precum running down the shaft. He kissed his wife deeply while I worked them both.
I wanted to make it good for her too, because they'd paid fair and square and more likely than not, by the time they were done with me I'd have a nice tip coming. They'd think about pretty little me being stuck on this shithole planet, maybe feeling a little guilty because they'd been fucking a boy younger than their own spoiled children, and they'd have some money left because they always budgeted more than they spent, upright responsible people like them.
"Fuck him..." the woman gasped. "I want to see it ... here ... fuck him while I cum, darling."
She was close too and the man looked happy to please his wife. He stood up slowly, perhaps flushing a little self-consciously, as there was no place else in the galaxy where he could legally fuck a child, especially in a five star hotel lounge. But here he could and it would be the thrill of a lifetime, the grand perversion, and I was surprised they weren't recording it, making a holo for all their friends back home.
He rubbed my ass and pulled my hipsters down, the waistband stretched easily and I paid him no mind at all, just wriggling my small tight round butt a little, inviting him to put his big cock inside me. He didn't bother with my panties, pulling them quickly aside with a faint ripping sound. His wife shivered as she urged him on, breathing harder with her thighs pressed to my cheeks and then relaxed, squeezed, relaxed, over and over.
I moaned softly, nibbling the woman's clit now, even using my teeth because I knew she was so into it. And that cock was pushing into my hairless little hole hard. He wanted me deep and fast, stabbing inside my butt quickly so that it hurt a bit, mashing my face into the woman's nest of fine, damp pubic hair as he rocked my body forward.
"Jesus! He's hot, Steph ... You wouldn't believe ... ugh! This kid is tight!"
He almost laughed, grabbing my tiny waist, working his cock in and out, and it was okay after a few minutes. I always made sure my ass was clean and lubed good before I ever shopped the Fucky Fucky game. Just the beginning was always kinda bad, but maybe I didn't mind too much. The woman started cumming finally and my butt felt sore, but wet, really wet now from all that precum he was dripping, and I tried my best to squeeze that cock off inside my ass and keep it there.
"Ohhh oh God God God..." The woman arched her back.
She dug her fingers in my hair, grinding her cunt against my mouth as I tasted her flavor suddenly stronger than ever, sharp and acrid on my tongue. She was cumming a lot, the wetness pouring from her sex as I stiffened my tiny tongue, shoving it inside her.
"Eat her, you little whore..." the man told me, grunting the words, " ... suck that pussy ... You slut ... Fuck! You fuck good..."
He was fucking me good too, really moving in and out, his cock almost pulling free of my anus and then slamming back inside, so deep it would hit the bottom of my immature rectum, pounding my baby prostate like a hammer. The sensation brought weak, muffled yelps from my hard working mouth, and I was going to cum too. My dick felt on fire and I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted to.
I started moving my ass faster, fucking myself back to meet him with a delicious grind. That pleased him, especially when he realized I was cumming, my hard little penis shooting cum onto the thick carpet between my knees. That made it good for him, really good with my asshole clenched eagerly around his prick. I moaned into the woman's sex, swallowing her cum and letting all those good feelings break free.
This was sweet, fucking these two tourists. I'd done a lot worse in my life, that was for sure, and two days of being a fuck toy wasn't exactly my favorite thing, but it would get me ready. I'd be nice and relaxed and primed for some cold blooded murder come Tuesday night. Six people would be looking for me, wanting to do me hard before I did them, and when it was done I'd be the best card player on Broken Window. The best killer on a planet full of them.
It was a nice thought while I was cumming and I liked it a lot.