Walking out of the sleazy little strip bar, counting his newly acquired loot, Davoc's wristwatch communicator beeped, and a holographic image of Vee, his ship's holocomputer, filled the screen.
"Looking hot, Vee." He said. Indeed, she was. The Computer took the shape of a beautiful young girl with bobbed orange hair, swept along the chin angle at the sharpest of angles. Her skin was perfect and tan, and her lips full, pouty, and glossy pink in color. Her eyes were green and instead of eyeballs, she had a grid of lines filling both eyes. Vee always wore a tan, form hugging jumpsuit that she kept zipped low to display a set of tits that would make a toaster oven get a toast-on. The jumpsuit barely covered her shapely, jiggly ass, and her legs were long and shapely, ending in knee high black glossy platform heels.
"Thanks, boss." Vee said, her cheeks blushing a bit. Emotion programs were expensive, but where his hot-ass ship's computer was concerned, money was no object to the Titty Hunter. "How'd the case go?"
"I'm going to kill Nazio for this lead. Just a fucking spruced up pleasure bot."
"That obvious?"
"Please, I've smelled realer tits at a silicon factory. Besides that, she didn't even so much as yelp when I barged into the room. Classic fearless droid behavior-Got fifteen thousand out of it, though, so not a total loss."
OO
TEN MINUTES EARLIER
Smitty had worked hard all month to save up for this.
A lapdance with the famous stripper Uxi Borelle, who was known throughout the small world as one of the hottest babes around was expensive, but well worth the price-at least from what Smitty heard at his crappy day job as a laser-miner. Often times his pals would come to him, bragging about the experience of a lifetime for the low low price of just a few weeks pay.
And here he was, sitting in a private booth, his body quivering as the three eyed alien watched the beyond lovely, beyond sensual babe wiggle, waggle and writhe on his aroused lap. His eyes were wide and unable to peel away from her beauty. The Green skinned gal was flawless to behold. Her hair was long and silky, a vivid yellow in color to match her heavily lashed eyes. She was flawless, a full bodied, hourglass of a woman, with shapely, stilt like legs that could arouse a man of any species or age. She smelled divine, and her lush, mountainous tits bobbed and jiggled at the slightest movement.
Having paid an exorbitant 1,000 Gigabucks for a solo "gold pass" session that lasted a whopping ten minutes, Smitty was given free reign over her upper body, so he groped and fondled those all too perfect tits in his quivering grip, burying his face in her lovely cleavage.
Too lost in pleasure to hear the commotion outside, complete with breaking plexi-glass, screaming strippers and retreating patrons, Smitty was beyond shocked when the thin flimsy screen to his private booth with Uxi was torn down, and before the stripper and the miner stood something straight out of a nitemare.
Grey skin was stretched around a towering, muscular frame. His torso was bare save for a few ammo belts and tribal, wickedly stylish tattoos that covered large patches of his shoulders, arms, and chest. His hair was trimmed shorter and came in a deep burgundy type of purply-red, and his eyes glowed with a vivid orange light. Contrary to his massive, thick frame, two thin, graceful tentacles sprouted from his shoulder blades.
Immediately letting out a weakly sort of yelp, Smitty practically tossed Uxi at the towering man, for the miner knew exactly what he was.
You see, kind reader, grey skin, purply red hair, orange glowing eyes, and two tentacles from the back meant that the figure was of the Rovaari species, hailing from the rocky, dangerous world of Rovaar. This race in particular were known to be exceedingly rare, and nigh impervious to damage. It would tae nothing short of a nuclear blast to even make one of these horribly tough creatures wimper in discomfort, and they were best avoided if it was at all possible. When this rare species took to civilization, it was usually in some martial capacity, such as hitman or mercenary soldier for hire, so needless to say, Smitty just about wept at the prospects of facing one.
The large figure grabbed the forfeited stripper, clutching her roughly by the arm and staring down into her eyes. Far from scared, the busty Uxi gave a sultry little giggle and moan, rubbing up against the massive Rovaari. He looked down at her, seemed to sniff a couple of times with his broad nose, and threw her back into the lap of the all too terrified Smitty. And with that, the massive Rovaani was gone from the booth.
On his way out, a sleezily dressed, silver skinned alien blocked the doorway, his arms folded and his face a mask of agitation. Flanked by two massive robot bouncers, he pointed a finger into the barrel chest of the large Rovaari.
"What the kulz do you think you're doing? If you want a lapdance with Uxi, you'll have to pay up and wait your turn!"
The Rovaari smiled. "Ah, you must be the manager. Just the man I wanted to see." His grin displayed thick, straight teeth. He nodded towards the booth, and took out a thick, stumpy cigar, lighting it and puffing out a great cloud of hazy smoke before speaking. "Just checked out Uxi in the back, and the funniest thing happened..." He took a few wiffs into the air. "I smelled, not a flesh and blood woman, but a pleasure bot loaded with pheromone perfume. I would assume that the perfume would be used to trick the minds of anyone in there with her so that the experience would be enhanced, and so that they wouldn't know that instead of having the live and in the flesh Uxi Borelle, they were, in fact, groping and fondling a simple pleasure bot, that can be picked up at any Star-Mart, that was spritzed with some aphrodisiac to make them think it was a gal who in fact, hasn't set foot on this planet for five years."
The Manager's face flushed and he looked around angrily. "I...I should mop this floor with you!"
The Rovaari smiled and puffed on his cigar a few times, motioning to the array of droid bouncer parts around him. "Oh, you mean with your big, tough robot bouncers? Sure, if you have any more to spare, I have a few minutes. Better call a repair man, though."
The Manager fumed, looking around at the abandoned strip club, some dancers staring at the scene in disbelief.
"So, what'll it be, chief?" The Rovaari asked. "Do I go spread the word about your famous starring attraction, or do you pay me off to never come back here again, which I won't, if your price is right." He held up two thick grey fingers. "Scouts honor."
The Manager reached into his pockets and pulled out a wad of gigabucks, counting off angrily. "Ten thou-"
