Recycling Day
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Recycling Program free porn video
Recycling Program ? by: Lynn LeFey
John Pilgrim sat in a cargo net, which functioned as his sofa and bed.
He ate plain carb wafers with a thin spread of bean goo on them. The
dry wafer sucked the moisture from his mouth. He was so broke, he had
been forced to resort to using a dehumidifier to illegally gather water
to drink.
He wondered what had ever possessed him to get on that cargo ship and
head out into the frontiers of space. Adventure. Fortune. Sex with cool
alien chicks with different colored skin!
Unfortunately, none of it had come to pass. Instead, he was stuck here,
in the below decks of an aging space station. He was lucky to find
occasional work as a cargo handler. He was so broke, he couldn't afford
cryo passage off the station.
The hatch to his quarters swung open, and his bunkmate stepped in.
Garth Pendulum stepped through the hatchway, trying to pull the hatch
closed behind him.
"Any luck?" John asked his Antherian pal.
"Well, the pickings are pretty thin, but I actually found a nice warm
generator with an unpicked nest. Check out these babies!" he said
excitedly as he uncovered the little plastic box. It contained
thousands of little squirming bugs, which scattered as soon as the box
was opened. They bolted for the door en masse.
"Man, you know your life sucks when the roaches won't hang around your
pad!" John lamented.
"This really bites. I think I might go stand near the magnetic field
inductors and see if I can get a good hallucination or something,"
Garth started. His lanky pale green form turned for the door.
"Dude, you know that all the GOOD hallucinatory frequencies are already
taken. All you'll get are paranoid delusions. Same as last time," John
pointed out.
"Well? what is there to do then?" Garth whined.
At that moment, the telecom pinged.
"All right! My dad's calling to bail me out of this hole!" John
cheered, pressing the 'activate' button.
When the fuzzy holo appeared, it wasn't his dad. It was someone in
official station uniform.
"Is this the quarters of John Pilgrim, and Garth Pendulum?" the human
asked.
"That depends. Is this about employment opportunities or debt
collection?" Garth asked.
In response, a thin beam of red light shot from the com console,
performing a bioscan. John shook convulsively under the EM emissions.
He suffered from a little known condition that caused involuntary
orgasm every time he was scanned. It was embarrassing and caused him to
have to go through a twelve-step program to get away from using
tricorders.
Garth twitched, saying, "king-kik? kik-kiking kik!"
The man on the screen watched the two, waiting for the invasive effects
to settle down.
"Now that I have determined your identity, I have been requested to ask
you two to report to environmental recycling, deck 72, yellow sector,
at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. That is all." The transmission ended.
"Umm? why do they want us to report there?" Garth asked.
"Jobs, dude. Even slopping in waste tanks pays SOMETHING! Man, this is
our lucky day!" John hi-fived his roommate, who hi-sevened him in
return.
Sharply at 0619, John and Garth stumbled down the catwalk, having
finally found yellow sector.
In front of them was a blast door, with black and yellow striping,
marked 'Organic Recycling'.
"Cool,"' John said, giving a big thumbs-up. Garth's antennae lay
casually pointing forward.
"Let's dazzle them!" Garth said, pressing the button on the command
console. A secondary blast door slid down. Garth smiled sheepishly at
John. He pressed another button and both doors whooshed open, revealing
a well-lit control room within.
"Gentlemen! Welcome to OrgRec. Please sign in here," the man stated. He
was the same guy they'd seen before.
John filled in the blocks on the sign in sheet?. Name, Ident Number,
Mass in kilos, and checked the organ donor box.
"Please come this way, gentlemen," the old human dude said in a
professional tone, bringing the clipboard along. The two swanky friends
followed, into a door marked 'reclamation vat A'. The human stopped at
the end of a catwalk. They could see below a bubbling vat of some form
of liquid. The room smelled vaguely of soup.
"Okay, fellas, in you go!" the human gestured, smiling.
Garth turned to hop off the catwalk. John froze for a second then
snagged at the arm of his friend, barely catching it as they both
nearly toppled into the vat below.
"Holy Crap, We're here to be turned into biomass!" John realized.
"Damn? There's just no fooling you," the man said flatly.
"I don't want to die! I have so much to live for!" John said
dramatically.
"Such as??" the older man urged.
John was staggered by the devious psychological onslaught. He smiled,
scratching his head.
"Dude? give me a minute. I don't do well under pressure. I have test
anxiety!"
"You can't do this! Sentient beings are protected from non-voluntary
recycling under station code 1382-14, section C!" Garth blurted out.
"Good save, my man. Where did you learn that?" John asked, looking with
new appreciation on his friend.
"Hello? It's posted right up there!" Garth pointed a long finger at the
huge sign posted on the wall.
In large letters, it proclaimed 'Sentient beings are protected from
non-voluntary recycling under station code 1382-14, section C '
"That would be true, except that you are also guilty of criminal
offenses whose monetary value are greater than your biomass value. We
are entitled to reclaim our lost revenue under station code 1701-A."
the human said with a wicked grin, pointing out another large obvious
sign.
"Shit!" John exclaimed. He scanned the room for other signs that might
help him escape. "Well, what is it we took of monetary value?" he
finally asked.
The man held up a sheet of pseudopaper. John snatched the sheet from
his hand, scanning the text.
"A water bill! You're killing us over a two hundred credit water
bill?!?" John stated, nearly in shock.
"Yes. Your biomass will pay for one hundred ninety one credits of that
bill. Don't worry, we do not intend on going after your estate for the
remaining nine credits," the old human said professionally.
"Can we get that in writing?" Garth demanded. John smacked his friend
across the head.
"Isn't there anything we can do to arrange to pay this debt off?" John
asked.
"Well, we could check the open job listings," the man said
thoughtfully.
"That would be great," John said, backing toward the door they'd come
in.
"Now, you just stay where you are. I can pull it up on my lens-top
computer." The man fluttered one eye expertly, then muttered, poking a
finger in his eye. "Sorry, it froze up and I had to reboot," he
admitted a bit embarrassed.
"Ah? here we are. Are either of you skilled at gravimetrics?" he asked.
"No," the two spoke in unison.
"Okay? how about wave-particle acceleration weapons?"
"Nope," they again chimed.
"Hyperspace navigation?"
"'No."
"Hydroponics?"
"I grew some pot plants once. Does that count?" John asked. The man
gave a glare, and continued down the list.
"Oooo, how about plasma welder?"
"Nope."
"Cable splicer?"
"No."
"Assistant cable splicer?"
"What does that require?" John asked.
"The job description says, 'must have rudimentary understanding of
electronics and be able to pick up twenty five kilos'." he said getting
impatient.
"How rudimentary is 'rudimentary'? I mean? switches hate me," Garth
said anxiously.
"You know since that blorto ball accident, my doctor restricted me to
no heavy lifting?," John said.
"Dammit! Get in the tank! You are the two most worthless chunks of
water stealing biomass I've ever reclaimed!" he began huffing.
"Chill out. Jeez, you got this big red vein popping up on your
forehead," John stated casually.
The man charged him angrily. John fell instinctually to fetal position,
and the man tripped over his prone form, falling into the tank below.
"Biomass requirement fulfilled. Thank you," a soft feminine computer
voice lilted. The door slid open. On his way out, John saw something
shining on the deck. He reached down and recovered the lens-top
computer, placing it in his eye.
"Oh, gross! You just stuck someone else's contact in your eye!" Garth
turned a darker shade of green.
"This from a guy who brought a bucket of roaches home for dinner last
night," John returned. "Oh wait! Here's a job that old curmudgeon
totally missed? waitress!" John said, proud of himself.
"John?"
"It even says no experience necessary! Oh MAN! It pays fifty credits an
hour, plus tips!"
"John?"
"Uniform supplied! This is absolutely perfect!"
"JOHN!" Garth shouted.
"Yeah?" John focused on his friend.
"Why are you standing here talking about it? Let's go," Garth demanded.
The two stepped off the lift on deck 12. Before them was the legendary
Retro-Cool lounge. The two obviously cool dudes walked in like they
owned the place. Well, more accurately, like they had a longterm lease,
with an option to buy.
"May I help you?" asked the famous Lanita Fanathra. She was the hottest
chick in the Alpha Quadrant. She was tested as absolute perfection for
sixteen of the known sentient races. Even the broccoli-like Neathreans
wanted some of that.
"Kik?," Garth twitched.
"Hey, sexy, foxy, nova-hotty!" John said, smiling his best seductive
smirk. He moved to put an arm around her.
"Touch me and die," she said flatly. John slowly pulled his arm away.
"We're here about the job openings," John stated, still savoring the
most delicious eye-candy he'd ever seen.
"The waitress positions?" Lanita opened her perfect almond shaped eyes
a bit wider, trying to understand if the two humanoids in front of her
had recently been brain-wiped.
"That's the ones? ummm? those are the one? THOSE are the ONES?," John
finally finished.
"Did you notice the ESS at the end of the job title? I'm not looking
for waiters, I'm looking for waitresses,' she said flatly.
"Hey, that's discrimination. What does a woman have that I don't have?"
John asked hotly. Lanita shifted her gaze, first to his chest, then to
his crotch, then back to his eyes, waiting for his brain functions to
catch up. She waited quite a while before giving up.
"Look. This station has two hundred fifty thousand inhabitants. Two
hundred thirty seven thousand ninety one are male. Ten thousand seventy
four are lesbian. What does that tell you?" she didn't wait nearly as
long this time to explain herself.
"It means this place needs women," she said flatly.
"What if we got? you know? modified?' Garth asked. He felt like it was
a stupid question.
"Wow, that's a great idea!" Lanita said. "I'd even be willing to front
you the money for the mods. But you would be contractually obligated
for until you could pay me back," she said seriously.
"How long would that be?" John asked.
Lanita did the math in her head quickly. "Twenty hours each," she said
flatly.
"And after that?" John asked.
"After that, you have your pick of one hundred seventy two thousand
four hundred and eighteen men? and ten thousand seventy four women'"
she said working the numbers.
"This place will be ripe for us to plunder like the swarthy space
pirates we are," John said slyly to Garth.
"Yeah, whatever," Lanita said, rolling her eyes.
?
The two hurried down to deck 20, and found themselves in the open
markets of the station. In their hands were credit chips for the
modifications needed. They arrived at their desired location? Mithnul's
Ultra Nip-and-Tuc boutique.
Mithnul himself sat at the front, watching the two approach.
"Yo, mister body-modifying type. We're here to get some work done!"
John said brightly.
"Sorry, we work specifically on cosmetic enhancements. I can't do any
brain-boosting for you here," he said slowly, enunciating the words
clearly.
"No? dude? we're here to get? ummm? We want turned into hot chicks,"
John said with a bit of a blush.
"Ah. That I can do. Please, come in." The short, immaculately dressed
squidoid undulated across the floor into the dark shop. "For you sir,
we have a variety of options. First, there is the Bimbotron 2000. Then
there is the Cyber-Ho Ultra. Finally, there is the Super-Seductra Mark
V," Mithnul stated, waiving a pseudopod as he mentioned each.
"Wow?," John stated. He reached down, pulling up a pamphlet of the
Bimbotron. "Hey, Garth, imagine me a vacuous bimbo! What a laugh!" he
chuckled.
"You mean after the change?" Garth was a bit confused. John ignored his
'friend', reading on.
"Ohh. I could get custom skin and hair colors, in seventeen designer
colors!" John handed the credit chip over to Mithnul, sat down at a
computer terminal and started programming choices.
Finally, he hopped up, and jumped into the coffin sized booth of the
Bimbotron.
"I am so ready to do this," John said.
"Alright, sir? err? ma'am. You are going to feel a slight amount of
discomfort," Mithnul stated gently.
"How much discomfort? I have an allergy to pain," John was beginning to
whimper. Unfortunately, the bimbify button was already pressed. John
felt like his spine was being removed through his nose.
"Are? Are there usually that many agonizing screams involved in the
process?" Garth asked nervously.
"Oh, those are agonizing screams of JOY, sir. Now, while your friend
coagulates, let's get on to your modifications," the pleasant
invertebrate chimed.
"No, seriously. It sounds like the chick on 'Great Gig in the Sky', by
Pink Floyd. People only make that sound if they're dying or having sex.
Sometimes only if they're doing both!" Garth looked nervous. "Hey, just
tell me which of your contraptions hurt the least. That's the option I
want."
"I'm sorry sir. There is only one option for Antherians," he stated,
holding up a pair of plastic safety scissors. Garth fainted dead away.
?
"Wow? that sucked!" John stated, as the door of the booth swung open.
He staggered on wobbly legs out of the booth, trying to clear his
throat. "Testing? testing? Hey, I sound like Betty Boop!" he tried hard
to sound angry, but just ended up sounding cute and sultry. He stared
at his roommate lying stretched out on an operating table. He looked
basically the same, but his antennae were gone.
"Alright sir. The total comes to six hundred credits for you, and eight
credits for your friend," Mithnul stated, ringing up the transaction.
"What? Why did his cost so little?' John tried sounding indignant, and
ended up sounding cute and sultry.
"Antherians cycle through male, female, and asexual stages. Changing
their gender is easy. Actually, more sex changes occur by accidental
exposure to ceiling fans than you could imagine," Mithnul stated
flatly.
"Oh, all right then," John tried sounding cute and sultry. It worked
like a charm. He stood looking at himself in a full-length mirror. He'd
never wanted so badly to have sex with a plate of shiny glass before.
He had curves that bordered on caricature. His hair was magenta, but
went poorly with the gray jumpsuit he wore.
"For an extra twenty credits each, I can file name and gender change in
the station computer," Mithnul stated.
"Great. Umm? I'll be Jenna then. And let's call Garth? How does
Gertrude sound?" he smiled. Mithnul typed away at the extra large
button keypad, made for use by people not possessing fingers.
"Done. Now, let's get your girlfriend to her feet, miss," The shop
owner stated.
?
The remaining fourteen hundred credits were used to rent a nicer room?
one with a water cooler. Then, the two went on a wild spending spree,
putting together new wardrobes for themselves.
"Why 'Gertrude'? Why didn't you wait until I woke up?" Gerty whined.
"Oh, it's not so bad. You'll get used to it," Jenna said. She'd worked
her vocal range somewhat. She could now manage adorable and pouty,
along with doe-eyed, and a kitten-like cuddly. She was a bit bothered
by this, but it just made her look adorable and pouty when she thought
of it.
Their shift started in only a few hours, and they rushed to finish. One
of Jenna's outfits was a miniskirt in bright pink, a white bustier, and
mid-thigh pink vinyl boots with 5" heels. She strode out of the store
in them and fell flat at her first encounter with deck grating. One of
her heels had snapped off, and she'd fallen to her knees. Some fairly
wealthy looking man rushed to help her up.
"Thanks," she said coyly.
"No problem, honey. Say? you want to go out tonight?" he said. Jenna
looked up at the fellow. He was good looking, but she didn't feel all
that interested in guys.
"No thanks. I've gotta get to work soon," she said. She was growing
tired of her squeeky voice.
"Where might you be working," he asked, with a cheesy look.
"God!" she thought, "This idiot is using the same babe hunting methods
I used. No wonder I never got laid."
"The Retro-Cool Lounge? Deck 12," she answered. Maybe he'd come in and
she'd get some nice tips.
He winked and walked away. She wanted to throw up.
"Gerty? we gotta make one more stop. We've gotta find someone to do a
quick Neuro-rework on me. I'm gonna get sick of seeing myself as a
girl, and I hate guys hitting on me. I need this job too much to screw
it up," Jenna managed to sound somewhat desperate, but was still oozing
cute.
They rushed to Max's Brain-O-Rama. Max was working with another
customer, and finally came to greet his two new clients.
"Helloooo, ladies!" he said in a suave voice.
"Okay, so, like, here's the deal. I just got a body job, and I need to
get my brain rewired to match. We have?," Jenna looked at the credit
chip, "Crap! I have two hundred credits. What can you do for me?"
"I can give you memories of being a secret agent on Mars," he said,
smiling.
"No thanks," she huffed.
"I can insert any single trade skill," he continued.
"Waitressing?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure," he continued.
"Can you rewire my sexual preference?"
"Not for two hundred credits," he said, eyeing her perfect body.
"Well? how much WOULD it cost?" she asked desperately. She looked at
her retro-trendy watch. Time was running out.
"If I could record an experience of someone having sex with a girl as
lovely as you, certainly that would cover my expenses," he said,
smiling devilishly.
"And I guess that someone would be you, right?" she asked.
"You're brighter than you look? or sound," he stated, rocking back on
his heals.
Jenna closed her eyes, trying to think.
"All right, but you've got to make my neural changes first, and I want
you to throw in the waitress skill? and one other for free!" she
demanded in her adorable little voice.
"Sure? right this way." He began leading her back to what looked like a
dentist chair, with copious wires surrounding it. "Nothing for you?" he
asked, turning his attention to Gerty.
"How about the I-don't-sleep-with-you-and-I-get-a-skill-for-two-hundred
-credits thing?" she asked.
"Sure? what skill?" he asked.
"I guess I'll go with waitressing too," she said.
"I only have one waitress engram, sorry," he said.
"That's okay. How about something technical? like gravimetrics?"
"How about Pastry Chef?" he countered.
"Oh? okay," she said. Gerty realized she felt pretty docile since the?
removal.
Max loaded Jenna up into the chair, hooking electrodes in various
places. The machine whirred and hummed, finally putting out a 'ping'.
"There you are miss? Now for my payment," he said lecherously.
The two disappeared behind a curtain, into private chambers. Gerty read
a magazine while she waited. Seven minutes later they returned.
"Okay? let's go," Jenna said. Gerty looked a little surprised.
"You're done already?" she asked.
"Yep," Jenna replied.
"How was it?" she asked. With the antennae removed, her brain chemistry
was already beginning to change. She had a minor desire to know what
sex as a woman was like, and an uncontrollable desire to watch Lifetime
Television.
"Ehh? not bad, I guess," Jenna said in a nonchalant manner.
"Your? your lipstick is smudged a little. Hey? you got the waitress
skill, right? What else did you get?" Gerty asked with some curiosity.
Jenna stopped to think about it.
"That BASTARD! He loaded me up with a stripper/prostitute engram!" she
tried to fume. It came out just under cute. Gerty knew because of this
that her anger must be pretty serious.
?
The End? Maybe?. Sort of.
Author's notes:
I have just finished my second major story. It's over sixty pages long,
and will take time to be edited to my satisfaction. In the interim, I
wanted to entertain myself with something light.
This story is a complete piece of fluff, but one that I hope will at
least bring a few smiles. If it goes over well, it may be a series I
use to fill in spaces between larger projects.
Oceana
- 28.03.2022
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- Category:
- Humor
