I'd like this story to be dedicated to "Alissa".
*
"You've reached Malina Moonstone, Intergalactic Bounty Hunter," her machine proudly announced, in her voice. "What is the nature of your call?"
A thick, electronic voice countered. She tapped the screen and the words fell silent. She didn't care what it was. She'd deal with it later. She was busy. Bounties had been coming at her left and right these days, ever since the expansion of the civilized world to the more unknown regions of the galaxy.
Pirates were the biggest problem, though not the sole problem. She hadn't enjoyed a moment to herself in a month and it was starting to wear her down. Too busy warding off interesting new
lifeforms
(if they could be called that), escorting research teams to and from alien ruins, transporting vaccines for strange germs, investigating abandoned outposts, and all the goddamn space pirates a girl could never not want to not bother with ever. However, the profits were through the roof. If she kept this up, she'd break a personal record by tripling her total income from all of last year in less than two months. That's if she could keep it up, anyway.
She would've smiled, if she wasn't too busy thinking about how she hadn't even seen a humanoid male in about three weeks. It was really troubling that a young, fertile female such as herself was going so unnoticed, by way of unfortunate circumstance. She tried not the think about it, tried to remain focused, but she was hoping nothing would require too much of her attention or things would likely go up in smoke. She was distracted, in a very moist sort of way. In a swollen, dripping sort of way, actually. So much so it hurt. Damn it, she deserved a break today...
She ran a hand against the crotch of her inner suit. It was a thin material, similar to latex. The sensation of it on the skin was the same, though. Electric pleasure zipped up her spine and she liked it a little too much. She decided it was a bad idea to do that at the moment.
Or was it...
"Computer," she summoned.
"Active" it replied.
"ETA?"
"Twenty three minutes and thirty two seconds till we arrive at Red Outpost 2332," it said.
Plenty of time. She darted out of the console chair, down a small hatch and into her bedroom. The ship was her home, as well as her only means of conveyance, and she wasn't afraid to say that she liked to do her private business in the comfort of her own room.
Her suit was form-fitting, but it allowed her room to breath. It covered her chest and belly completely, but only halfway on her forearms and shins. She rubbed her nipples gently through the material, winding her forefingers around them until they hardened pleasantly. She unzipped herself and pulled her suit down just enough to expose her breasts. She massaged them in a circular motion, squeezing them together ever once and again. She continued with her right hand as she wet the first two fingers on her left hand on her tongue. She slipped it down into the groin of the suit and rubbed her clitoris until it began to puff up. She moaned and slipped out of the suit.
She stood for a moment admiring the feeling of being nude, before lunging onto her bed face down and burying two fingers into her aching wetness. She quivered and squeaked as she furiously masturbated, slipping two of her thin fingers not-so-gently around inside, the tips teasing her special spot with each pass, thumbing her clitoris, toying around her anus with her free hand and biting her lip, recalling the times she had wrapped those lips around a real specimen. The thought of being competely filled made her crazy and she shoved two fingers into her ass and an extra one deep into her cunt. She moaned at the pain as it twisted into pleasure and she flipped over onto her back. She kept one arm behind her, letting those fingers invade her tiny, pink butthole, as she forced half her hand inside her swollen, dripping vagina and beat about her clit. She bit hard into her lip and screamed as the pleasure shot up the whole of her back, causing her to arch up.
"OH FUCK!"
The explosive combination of the pleasure and the pain exploding together in her mind caused her to explode just the same. With a scream, she squirted. She heard it splash onto the floor, but couldn't tell where. She fell back down, withdrawaling her fingers from her tender parts, panting. Her eyes were half open and mouth hung open. She needed that.
She laid there just breathing with the expression of satisfaction stuck on her face until she heard the computer chime in.
"Five minutes to arrival and departure, Miss Moonstone," it said in it's sterile, nondescript voice.
She didn't sigh or protest. She just exhaled deeply, stood up and slipped back into her outfit.
"Damn it," she swore. "I jizzed on my suit..."
It smelled like her vagina and made her horny. She prayed her helmet would block it out, but she wasn't expecting it to. She'd probably have to compensate; the very thing she was trying to avoid by touching herself to begin with. She sighed at herself in disappointment, but got over it quick.
She climbed down into the armory and tried not to think about how much she wanted to get it.
---
Her form-fitting armor reflected in the dull light. The obtuse V-shaped plate on the chest, the thigh pads, the shin guards, the forearms, and the joints protrubed slightly from the rest of the suit in an intimidating blood-red; the rest was a thinner, more maluable metal in a gentle black. Her helmet rested in the crook of her arm as she decided on firearms.
A couple pairs of handguns, two shotguns, a plasma rifle, a very basic grenade gun, and a dated assault rifle that was gathering dust. She tried not to think about why there was dust on her ship as she holstered a pair of pistols, slipped one of the shotguns across her back, and grabbed the assault rifle, more out of distaste for the thing and a need to rid herself of it than a genuine desire to use it.
Intergalactic Bounty Hunter, Malina Moonstone, ready for action.
She slipped her helmet on and her nostels filled with her own special scent.
Oh Hell
...
---
She stepped cautiously out onto the landing platform, looking around the massive, yet disarrayed bay for signs of life. Crates and boxes where stroon about everywhere, though there were no signs of any other vessels than her own. The lights were low and flickering. There were marks on the walls that looked like plasma scoring and splotches of strange goop. It was on the ground as well. It was on the ceiling. It was everywhere; a thin film of some purple, viscous substance. She knelt down and ran her fingers through a shallow puddle of it. She rubbed it around in her fingers and pulled them apart. It stretched, but didn't break.
She marked a large drag of a puddle of it that led to a door on the far left of the bay. She raised an eyebrow and approached. She lacked any real bearings, so she just followed the goop and, presumably thereby, the trouble. When she reached it, the door slid open quickly and pleasantly, almost thanking her for the company. There was suddenly a dark, hexagonal hallway before her. She breathed in for air, but caught her own smell again. She wanted so badly to be filled, plugged, stuffed, add euphemism here, that she thought about stripping right there and shoving in whatever fit. Thought about it in a very loose, distant sort of way, as one would think of slitting the throat of an old lady who pays for groceries in pennies. She knew it wasn't going to happen, that there were a thousand good reasons not to, and even a few possibly scary reasons not, but the thought brought a little comfort. Or maybe it was just like doucing a brush fire in lighter fluid. Anyway, she wasn't stupid. Judging from the state of things, she'd likely get killed doing that by whatever ruined the place.
She shook the thought off as best she could and moved into the dark hallway. She walked through a patch of darkness and she kicked her suit to life; illuminating an outline of her limbs in a gentle red and activating nightvision through her visor. She took her steps slowly, but didn't piss around. She moved down the hallway, turning corners and following the mess. She passed by doors that were equally coated in the purplish goo, but her guts told her just to keep going.
After almost a half an hour of creeping down the wide hallway, she came to the end and a door that read "Section 1: Lesser Species and Germs". There was a small, black eye of a camera just above it. It didn't look too promising, but she had a job to do. She approached and the door beeped. It wasn't a happy beep, either. It was a "fuck you, bitch, you ain't gettin' in" beep.
She looked around the door and spotted a panel on the right. She approached. It was glowing bright red with the word "Invalid".
"How do I become valid," she asked herself.
"Unauthorized guest," a deep, male computer voice said. "Return to scheduled activities. Authorized personelle only."
"And how do I get authorization," she asked.
"Authrorized personelle only," it repeated. "Return to scheduled activities or security will be notified."
