Band On The Run: Part IV: A Tropical Getaway free porn video

Band on the Run Part IV: A Tropical Getaway by [email protected] Sirens whining, yellow and greens flashing, the cop was trying desperately to potjack the car, which of course was the first thing Snipe had disabled. I could see in my mind's eye the cop punching our VIN into his panel and hitting the "sleep" command again and again and wondering why the fucking car wouldn't fall like a lead weight out of the fucking sky like it was fucking supposed to. Snipe was a good driver, but crazy. I don't think he'd ever been taught, just jumped into a car one day, probably stolen, and hit the GO pedal. There was no in between for him, which is why we never let him at the controls. There was GO and screaming-jets-whining-G-force-please-save-us STOP! In this case it served us well. The cops were having trouble giving pursuit. I don't think Snipe understood the principle of sky cues, lanes, and I knew he couldn't read the icons. There was no yield or slow down for air pocket ahead. There was only GO. In a moment of surreal dreaminess I looked out the back window and saw a mass of police cruisers. We were accumulating more each second. They were on us like hungry fleas. They whipped up and down, in and out in our wake in an uneasy flock. I studied Snipe. Because of my position in the back seat I could only just see the side of his face. He was hunched over the controls, his lips fluctuating between a snarl, a tight grin, though it could've been a grimace, and a loose lipped drool. Meanwhile the car jerked down and we all screamed, except Jess, who sat with her arms crossed, looking pissed. I noticed through the sky roof the mechanics of the underside of the cop cars as they whizzed overhead, breaking off to circle down in a controlled descent. Snipe had been infected with nanos. He had to have been. So, how had he resisted? We were at street level and screaming past sidewalks at the penthouse level. Hundreds of well dressed business men and women were suddenly caught in a blurr of terror. Those people probably hadn't set foot on the planet's surface in twenty years. They had wandered through their corporate cities from penthouse to penthouse, from building to building, eating, drinking, fucking. They had probably never even driven a car, and here we were blowing by doppler style and making them scramble like disturbed ants. Snipe cackled like a maniac. "Stop it!" Jess fussed at him. It wasn't a wild scream, but the admonishment of a disapproving girlfriend. I still didn't understand what was going on with her, but it finally dawned on me why Snipe hadn't succumb to the nano-bliminals. He stuck out his hand and dropped a small vial of flex into Jess's lap. She understood what he wanted, even if we didn't. Sam was too busy hyperventilating and hugging her breasts as if they were the two most prized possessions in the universe. Jess sprinkled a few grams in her palm and offered it to him like a sugar cube to a horse. He huffed and he puffed, he gagged, then he cackled and jerked the car straight up into the sky. "Careful!" Jess griped. The rest of us were too busy being pressed back into the seats and trying not to scream. I wasn't doing a very good job of it. I stopped when I noticed it, but long moments would pass where I wondered whose annoying high-pitched shriek was piercing my ears, only to realize it was mine. The cop cars swarmed beneath us as we rose above the city skyline. They made the slow ascent behind us and I saw yet even more had joined the chase. The whole damn planet seemed to be after us. There was no way out of this. Where could we go? We couldn't just fly off planet. The car might be sealed, but it wasn't that secure. It wasn't designed for the cold vacuum of space. It wasn't designed to punch through an atmosphere. Did Snipe even have a plan? Or was he just flexed out of his head and taking us all on one last wild ride? His brain must've been riddled with the stuff. The nanos had probably spent most of their time trying to rebuild his neural network. I laughed, though it came out as a whine shaped in the words, "We're gonna die!" The nanos had probably helped him more than hurt him. They had probably given him the wherewithal to hack the jail and plan our escape. He'd fooled them all, and even us for a little while. The cops were on our asses now. Two of them shot sealant at us, and only just missed. Snipe gripped the controls tighter and hit the air brakes. We jolted forward in our seats, than backward, than forward again as we began the long plummet to the planet's surface. The cops hovered above us in disarray, buzzing around, dazed and confused. Through the front window I saw the city come into view. We were in a sickening moment of free fall, our stomachs in our throats, then Snipe hit the jets and we were zooming straight down. I think we all screamed then, and I'm sad to say it was a cacophony of terror, rather than a well-tuned harmony as you would expect from a kick ass rock band like us. We fell and we fell while the car shook and shuddered and the high rises came toward us much much too fast. The sidewalks zoomed past and the surface streets were filling our windshield. Snipe pulled back on the controls and for a second I thought I could make out through the blur of passing buildings the famous Mo-Tool complex. Then I knew. Snipe might be a crazy bastard, but he did have a plan. * * * Inser had a wormhole. It wasn't stable. None of them were, which is why so few communities invested in them. They used it for cheap goods. The cheapest. The wormhole had good days and bad days. Sometimes the goods arrived on time. Sometimes they disappeared. The wormhole flexed and fluctuated terribly. Delivery wasn't so important with cheap goods. If they didn't arrive, you just sent more. In fact, most of the time you over ordered, knowing half of your shipment might not arrive. Snipe pointed us for the open hungry swirling mouth of the monster and I was certain at that very moment that we were in fact going to die. For real this time. The cop cars had managed to make their way down from the stratosphere, down to our level, but even they screeched to a halt. I think they were in shock about what we were about to do. I sure as hell was. There was no telling where we might end up. Even if the wormhole delivered us to its programmed destination, we'd just be held and extradited. Surely, the Inser government was sending signals even now their ally to set up a net. They were trying to shut the hole down, but that took time. It wasn't just a flip of the switch, not if you didn't the the thing to turn inside out and suck away part of the planet into outer space. We rammed past the barriers and before I could politely scream at Snipe to stop, please stop, for all of our sakes, we'd go back to jail and be happy girls and never complain, but please, please, please DON'T DO THIS!!!... before I could do anything, we were inside. The car threatened to break apart. We felt the pockets of gravity shaking us into oblivion, though there was no sense of motion. It seemed to take forever, yet was over in a few seconds. We were ejected into space. It was peaceful. It was quiet. It was very, very cold. Then there was the whine of escaping air and a POP! Then there were more whines as the air began to bleed out. We were going to explode or implode or whatever you do in outer space. The spinning vortex of the wormhole began to recede behind us as a bright overwhelming light filled our windshield, which was already creaking and cracking and threatening to shatter. The fierce molten surface of a Sun filled our view. The car cracked and shook and shuddered and popped and was getting ready to break into a billion jigsaw pieces, us included. Our faces were on fire, burning, melting, while our backs were frozen. I suddenly had to pee. The angry yellow, orange and red glow of the Sun meant certain death. In a few more seconds we'd catch fire and burn to cinders. Snipe jammed the controls into reverse, but the immense gravity of the Sun had us. He ran the jets all the way up until they screamed. We slowly inched backwards, away from the blistering furnace, backing so slowly towards the lip of the wormhole that I honestly thought we wouldn't make it. Jess looked over at Snipe, who was cackling either with terror or glee, and said, "I hope you're having fun!" Then we were whizzing backwards through the hole, the car's temperature evening out, though my cheeks were still hot enough to make me think we were all going to have a rotten sunburn in a few hours... if we survived. A sea of Inser's finest turned to see us pop back out through the hole. But Snipe was already jerking the controls forward again, back into the hole. Before they could spray a single drop of sealant at us, we were back in, feeling sick and getting so used to terror that we no longer had the energy to shriek. The wormhole was still closing, its mouth whipping back at an alarming speed across the light years, but we got lucky and popped out of the tail just as it passed a planet. We had no idea which one, but Snipe was no fool. We were not about to retreat into that damned hole again. For a long time, all we could see was clouds. Fat droplets of rain splattered against the cracked windshield. We didn't know where we were or if there was even a breathable atmosphere, but we were here and there was no going back. With the last gasp of the dying car, we hit the water (another good sign) and managed not to kill ourselves in the process. We floated, though not for long. The car was taking on water fast. I gulped some in by accident and tasted salt. (As signs go, it just couldn't get any better.) We managed to eject ourselves from the car, managed to swim toward a sandy beach, to a tropical island. We crawled out of the sea like Darwin's nightmare. Snipe began to laugh. Jess reached over and popped him hard in the stomach. He wheezed and hissed and fought to catch his breath. I couldn't have been more proud of her. * * * The nanos were long gone, probably, but it didn't matter. The damage was done. The three of us were horny as hell the entire day. It nagged at us as we explored the island. It squished between our legs as we gathered berries and nuts. It kept our tummies tense as we gathered firewood. It fixed our eyes on Snipe's taut abdomen as he leaned over to start a fire with his lighter. I in particular was enamored by his lean arms, the sharp cut of his wrists, the tendons of his arm, and the muscle flashing with each tense and release of his biceps. He had a nice body. I had to admit it. Not an ounce of fat, and he knew how to move it. He was young and strong and I knew from experience, hung like a horse. A strange chill shot through me as I thought about that other "muscle" of his. I wanted it in a way I'd never wanted anything. I couldn't even remember what it was like to walk around with one of those things. How did I sit with it? Which way had I slung it to dress? We ate what little food we had, drank some water from an in-island fresh water stream, and collapsed into a heap on the sand under the stars. My body ached from the day's excitement and my eyes were as heavy as lead. Snipe griped and pouted, because we'd forbidden him from sleeping near us (mostly by my insistence). We sent him skulking off behind a big boulder down the beach. As exhausted as I was, I couldn't sleep. I worried about Michael. I worried about our future. I worried about the little money we'd saved. I worried about who would get the rights to our music. But mostly, I pressed my thighs together and tried not to think of Snipe laying on the sand behind the boulder, his arms rippling as he drew them up behind his head like a pillow, his cock stiff under his pants, waiting for me. I could see myself in the light of the moons, plodding on my bare feet over to him, leaving a tell-tale trail of sandy footprints in my wake. I could see myself lowering my body down to his, straddling him, his cock already up and ready and... pushing... into... me... and.... I turned over, made a pillow with my hands and clamped my eyes tight. Where were we? What planet? We were in trouble. We had to find food and shelter and some way of signaling someone to come rescue us, but not just anyone. Someone who wouldn't know who we were. Someone who wouldn't return us to Inser. He'd have his legs crossed at the ankle, his black hair in his black eyes, his snaggletooth showing as he grinned, as the heat rose in my cheeks, as that hot stiff thing popped up between my legs and.... I turned again, pressing my hands between my thighs. My attention span was still shortened by the nanos, but it was getting better. In jail I'd attempted to recall the opening sequence of a basic P1 genome and hadn't made it past the first few letters. Now I could get about two thirds of the way through the sequence, and the rest of it was there, flowing in glowing letters in my mind. It just kept getting interrupted by the empty desire wetting my inner thighs. Jess sat up abruptly. By the time I rolled over to ask her what was wrong, she was halfway down the beach. I was sick with jealousy. I saw her pass behind the boulder, heard their low voices, then a few moments later the sounds of moaning and groaning. It didn't take long for her to squeal with pleasure. Then it was a few minutes of giggling, followed by Snipe's unholy snoring. Bitch. * * * The island had plenty of sticky sweet fruit and nuts and berries. Snipe had attempted the old pointy stick fish catching routine and had stabbed himself in the foot. Jess cooed over his bloody toe and washed it and blew on it and wrapped it up with some cloth she'd found somewhere. Sam swam out to the sunken car and managed to get the seat covers off. She was apparently more of a survivalist than the rest of us, though turning them into nets to catch fish was my idea. Most of the day, frankly, was boring. We wandered around idly. We decided to swim back out to the car and see if there was anything we could use to make a shelter. I was worried that the car wouldn't last much longer, that the tide would eventually carry it away. The nights had been warm and pleasant so far, but all we needed was one bad wet, cold day to make us wish we'd been more prepared. There were no doctors out here, so if something went wrong, something as simple as a cold might keep get real bad real fast. That night Jess paced around the campfire. While Sam and I tossed and turned, she finally gave up any pretense and joined Snipe. I listened to an even longer period of grunt and groaning, cursing her all the while. Not that I was eager to take her place. Just the opposite. As much as I ached for a strong calloused hand to lay against the soft tender flesh of my hip, I was resisting giving it up to Snipe. It was like fucking your brother. We'd been through too much together, had known each other too long, and I was still planning on changing back one day and didn't want the memory of his cock tapping against my uterus knocking around my head. Sam was desperate as well. She humped her hand and whined quietly, her other hand clamped tight to her breast, her eyes shut tight, her mind meandering through some secret fantasy. Afterwards she curled up beside me, sniffling. "What?" I asked. "What's wrong with us?" "It's the nanos," I told her. "But... will it ever... will we ever...." I knew what she was asking, and I didn't have an answer. I gave her one anyway; it might've been a lie. I wasn't honestly sure. "It will. They've been screwing with our brains for awhile. The nanos are dead and gone. It's going to take time for our brains to get back to normal." After a long silence she asked, "Will they return to normal?" I nodded. If she really wanted to know the truth, she had only to press it further. She didn't, and I was relieved. I had dreams of my Officer Harrison. They weren't as intense as before, but they were there. I was ecstatic with fat boobs and a swollen belly and wanting to fuck him as he drank his morning coffee. I might has well been on all fours and fetching his damn newspaper. I cursed the Inser jail. I should've been cursing Snipe, I knew, but I was having difficulty mustering the anger. Every time I tried, my mind wandered instead to his square shoulders, his crooked smile, his sharp, fierce expression, and those penetrating black eyes. The next night Jess went straight to him. Sam and I exchanged glances. Were they an item now? What did that mean? What would happen when we changed back? Could two men who were both first gender maintain a friendship once they'd been together? Would Jess remember all the fucking? Would Snipe be able to hang out with his old buddy without remembering how her breasts jostled beneath him as he filled her with his cock and bit down hard on her neck and brutalized her breasts with his tough fingers and his teeth.... I turned over and tried not to think about it. To our surprise the next night Jess did not go to him, but instead collapsed by our campsite and began snoring. A happy, satisfied girl who was sleeping the sleep of the well-fucked. I exchanged a glance with Sam. Had they had a falling out? But Sam was not sharing my expression. Her eyes were locked instead on Snipe's boulder. It wasn't just a boulder anymore. It was sex. It was relief. It was caving in to all the girlish programming that had saturated our brains for months. She sat upright and glanced over at Jess who was snoring like a lumberjack, her hand slung over her head, her pretty platinum blonde hair in a mess over her face. Sam stood, pawing at the sand with her feet like an anxious mare, and in a moment the decision was made. She marched toward Snipe's boulder. She didn't look at me; she'd gone out of her way to avoid looking at me. A few minutes later like fucking clockwork, I heard Sam groaning and grunting and giggling and it didn't end until I heard her squeal. Bitch. Asshole. I was so pissed at Snipe. He was clearly enjoying this. Did he even care? Did he even know what he was doing to us, the band? He was... he was fucking us to death! I wanted to walk over and spit at them both, but I just didn't have the courage. I didn't want to see the tangle of their limbs, Snipe's large hand on Sam's pretty pink breast, his rough masculine legs over her soft white legs, his angular jaw, slack with sleep. He'd part his eyelids and penetrate me with those black eyes of his. He'd beckon me forward and I'd go. He'd pull me down, angry and rough, and take my lips between his teeth and he'd... I turned over. I decided to take a long walk on the beach. It was a long night, and I barely slept a wink. We had more fish the next day. We had berries and nuts and all the water we could drink. It didn't take long for me to get sick of fish, berries and nuts. We had a fruit fight that left us sticky and laughing, so we dove into a freshwater pond to clean off. We swam in the ocean. We laid around on the beach and tanned our curvy bodies. We were getting skinny, despite ourselves. For a girl, of course, getting skinny only meant that our breasts looked larger. It shrunk our waists and enhanced our hips which made us look all the more attractive to Snipe. Jess stayed a little plump, and Snipe seemed to like that, and she seemed to like that he liked that. She went out of her way to jiggle and to flaunt it every chance she got. Snipe, the bastard, seemed to get leaner and more tan and more manly with each day. We bathed and then let him bathe and I felt an urge to hang behind. What was wrong with me? The nanos should've been long gone by now. But I wanted to see his cock. I wanted to see if it was like I remembered it. I couldn't imagine being filled by something that size. Well, that wasn't true. I could imagine it. That was the problem. Sam and Jess took turns. Each night. There were no fights. Only giggles and compromises. If this kept up, they'd probably have a threesome. Three nights for Jess. Three nights for Sam. They doted on him. The three of them seemed to get closer. They giggled and shared secret jokes. They got into play fights and let him win. They wrestled, pinning him down, only to surrender to his kisses. By the time Sam was yielding her breast to him and moaning, and by the time Snipe had Jess moaning with a tongue shoved down her throat, I'd had quite enough. I hated them. I hated them for making me an outsider. And every night, I squirmed, I turned and tossed, I pressed my hands into my wet panties and got myself off thinking no longer of my baby- faced club buddy or of Officer Harrison, but of Snipe. I was becoming obsessed with him. The nanos had re-wired my brain and had done a damn good job of it. My concentration was back, but I had the libido of a sixteen year old prostitute. I wanted it and the more I resisted it, the more I wanted it. Finally, the night came when Jess passed on her turn at Snipe. Sam passed as well and the two fell into a fitful sleep, both snoring beside me. I tried to sleep, but my eyes kept drifting and locking on his boulder. Jess would get up soon and go to him. Or Sam. One of them would walk over and that would decide everything. I knew if I laid there long enough I'd eventually just fall asleep and the decision would be made for me, but how long did I have to wait? My hand was between my legs, pressing, rubbing. I was beyond wet. I was charged to the hilt. I needed it. My nipples were up. My tummy was churning. My skin was as sensitive as a sunburn. I licked my lips, surprised to find my eyes fixed on his boulder yet again, remembering the sounds Jess and Sam had made, the moaning, the groaning, remembering the intimate little touches they shared throughout the day. I'd even caught Sam holding hands with him once. I sat up. I'd tell him what I thought of him. I'd tell him he was killing the band and wasn't he fucking happy about that since all of this was his fault anyway? I'd walk over there and spit in his face and tell him that we'd given up Michael who'd helped us and how did he feel about that? Then I was walking toward the boulder. My lips were wet and I realized I'd been licking them. I was gearing up for a fight. I was going to let him have it. I stopped. The boulder was there and I was afraid to turn the corner. I saw his lean, brown legs sprawled out behind it. I wriggled my toes anxiously in the sand. I looked back, expecting to see Sam and Jess sitting up and grinning with their little smart ass expressions of "we knew you'd do it sooner or later". This was all a plan, a conspiracy. They'd done this on purpose. They'd purposely decided not to fuck him tonight, to leave him open for me. They'd whispered and plotted and planned to get me in their little cult. The cult of the cock. Well, it wouldn't work. I was going to show them. I turned the corner, spittle on my lips, eyes full of ire, heart full of hate, ready to spit and to fume and to yell and scream and carry on and give him hell. He was asleep. Night after night of sex had exhausted him. Shit. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. But he looked inviting. He looked cold. One arm was cast out just begging for a soft head to lay against it. His head was turned to the side, his jaw slack, his lips parted and quivering with each snore. His lower body was covered as well, to my dismay. I laid down beside him carefully. I didn't want him to wake him. Well, I sort of did, but mostly I wanted to sleep beside a warm body and just feel... safe. I sniffled a little and his arm curled up and wrapped around me. He kissed the top of my head, mumbled something, and began to snore again. I don't think he even realized it was me. I felt sort of good, sort of happy, and suddenly I was incredibly sleepy. * * * I awoke to having my breast pulled. I whined like a child on a school day and tried to push whatever it was away. Then a tongue flicked across my nipple and I gasped with pleasure. When I finally managed to get my eyes open, I found Snipe administering gentle kisses down my belly while his fingers did wonderful things to my breasts. I couldn't help it; it felt too good. I moaned and felt my back arch. My pelvis pressed forward giving him a signal I wasn't certain I was prepared to give. My body wasn't listening to me, however, because suddenly my hands were on his shoulders, my fingers weaving through his coarse black hair. He parted my thighs with a knee and I opened my mouth to complain, to refuse, to express uncertainty, but his mouth shut me up. Hard and urgent, his tongue found mine and, though his breath was a little sour, the scrape of his beard and the pressure of his knee on my crotch had me moaning. He was working me and we both knew it. He inserted another knee between my legs and began to spread them apart. I swallowed and felt myself tense. "Uh... maybe-" But his mouth pressed against mine again, and this time I was helpless to it. His body was hard and lean and spilling loose grains of sand onto mine and the sensations drove me into a pleasurable trance. Then I felt it, something hot and hard laying against my leg. I was keenly aware of its presence, aware of it brushing across my wet wanting lips, aware of it laying on my mound, aware of secretly willing it down, down and in, down and filling every part of me. It wasn't much of a mind read, considering the circumstances, but he did slip it from its resting place, from its bed of coarse black curly hair, down between my thighs, parting my wet desperate lips with its tip, grinning at my gasp, down until the tip was at my entrance, ready to fill me. He kept it there, waiting. He wouldn't give me what I wanted, and that made me want it more. I began to groan, to clutch at him, to push my pelvis down into him with an urgent request, but the bastard kept me wanting and waiting and whining until my body and soul and heart all begged simultaneously. He cackled and snarled, and finally gave me what I was desperate for. The fireworks went off in my body. I wish I could say we found love and tenderness and the spirit of all that is right with man and woman, but the truth is he fucked the shit out of me, and I moaned and pleaded and called out his name and the name of anything and anyone that might get that gorgeous cock deeper inside me. When it was out, I was empty and desperate and pleading like a child. When it was in, I was filled and desperate to have it deeper and moaning like a whore. When it was deep as it could go, I was in heaven and thanking him like a prisoner who has just had his life spared. I exploded and he exploded, and suddenly his cum was everywhere. Inside of me. On my legs. Smeared on my belly. He dabbed at it and stuck his finger inside my mouth. It was salty and had the same mineral taste as the trickle of water we'd drank from the mossy rocks. Suddenly it occurred to me that if he wanted me to suck him off, maybe I wouldn't be so against it after all. He collapsed on me, and part of me understood what I'd just done. The rest of me didn't care. I knew I was part of the band again, one of the girls, a secret branded member and would soon be sharing secret little giggles and tender touches with our boy. In another week we'd probably all be on our hands and knees like little harem girls and giving him whatever he wanted. My hand scraped something rough under the sand. I rolled over. Snipe took it as a cue to sink his teeth into my ass. I yelped and giggled and wondered how long it would take him to get that beautiful cock of his back up, because I wanted to know what it felt like to get taken from behind, his rough hands on my hips, maybe one hand wound around my hair, pulling me back into him, pulling me into-- There was wire mesh under the sand. I swept more sand away. I dug a small hole. I sat up. Snipe leapt forward, pressing me down, nibbling on my neck. I shrugged and glared at him. "Would you quit it?" He shrank back, shocked and confused. I pushed more sand away. I scrambled to my hands and knees and dug into the sand. Not wire mesh, but metal plating, designed to prevent erosion. This was a thin spot, a flaw in the design. The design? My mind raced. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. It couldn't be. I shrieked out the loudest profanity anyone could imagine. "FUCK!" I stomped in a circle, a mad Indian doing a war dance. The girls rushed up to see what was happening. Sam glared at Snipe and was about to dig her nails into his eyes. "What did you do?" she yelled. I stopped her. "It's not him!" "Then what?" Jess insisted. I couldn't even tell them. I was stupid. I'd been that stupid. I hadn't seen it, hadn't figured it out. "What?" Jess asked again, this time of Sam. Sam brought it around full circle to me again. "What the fuck is going on?" I shook my head, half laughing, half sobbing. Snipe snuck away, wanting a little distance. Sam grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me, forcing our eyes to meet. "What did he do?" "No," I said, "No, no, no, no. It's not-it's not him." "Then what?" My shoulders sagged. I shrugged off her hands. I looked up at the sky and said, "Emergency stop!" The breeze continued, the tide continued, but we all felt it. A charge. A signal had gone out. The girls turned in circles, conferring with themselves, full of questions, conspiring to have me committed. Even Snipe looked dubious. We waited, probably less than four minutes, when a representative in a dark suit appeared. "Is-is there a problem?" * * * The wormhole had been closing, and in closing followed through with its routine, hitting every planetary delivery port one last time. It was an agreement between the co-op: anyone could shut the hole down, but it had to run its routine so no one lost any goods. Find the most rigid political system on a planet, and it will be surrounded by pleasure planets. Gulliver Jones had built most of them. In our attempt to escape, we'd been ejected straight into one of his fantasy domes. It was just our bad luck to land in one off season and unpopulated. We'd probably popped out just before or just after it delivered its last payload to Gulliver's port. The rep apologized profusely, offered us free passes, but we wanted a hotel room. They'd put us up, of course free of charge, providing we signed certain waivers. We each had our own room. What a luxury! I stood in front of the mirror and took a gander at myself. Tanned to a golden brown, hair bleached and streaked blonde, thin and looking like an island native. No wonder there was never any cold or rainy weather. No wonder there had been so much fruit, so many nuts and berries. No wonder the fish had been so easy to catch. The ponds, the "ocean" had been stocked! I cried. I sobbed for a very long time, and afterwards I felt so much better. I felt buoyant actually. I bathed and set the bathroom to pamper at its most lavish level. I was oiled, massaged, moisturized, painted, tickled and put to bed. I slept for a week. But it didn't last. We were soon called to the Gulliver security office. The four of us sat, fresh as daisies, except Snipe who looked rotten as garbage and smelled the same because he most likely had just come off a five day bender. We awaited our fate. Gulliver did not hire idiots. They employed only the brightest and the best. I suspected it hadn't taken them long to figure out who we were. No one expected any explanations from us. Instead they gave us their policy. Gulliver 101-A might share a wormhole with Inser, but they did not share an extradition agreement. We were therefore welcome to stay or go as we desired, except the free ride was over. We would be given another comped week in the hotel, after which we were on our own. We thanked them, and thanked them again, and on our way out, following a whim, I inquired about the club scene. He offered to send me a thorough listing of them to my room, for which I yet again thanked him. We got drunk. We found the closest, safest bar for three girls alone and tied one on that could not be untied. We didn't talk about our bodies or how we'd shared them with Snipe. We instead tried to figure out our next move. Gulliver had no green machines; the planet was technically an artificial environment like a space station which made them illegal here as well. We didn't have enough money to get off planet. At the most, even if we'd had the money, we might've been able to arrange to have our brains uploaded into male clones, but those were rentals at best and didn't have the benefit of the years of muscle memory that our current bodies still had. Clones don't play kick ass guitars. The thought of getting jobs in the domes did not appeal to us. Show up at eight, leave at five? No thanks. Hell, we'd gone into music to avoid those kind of hours. Then it struck me. We had the support of the Gulliver administration; they'd identified us and had sent updates through highstream channels to make it official. We were who we said we were, but genetically altered to be female. With that information made public, we could call our agent and our banking rep and get access to our accounts. Granted, we didn't have a lot saved. We'd always spent it as it came, but we did have enough to buy some new rigs. The shades of the dingy club faded and we watched the virtual Sunset, which even I had to admit was breathtaking. I didn't care what the purists said, give me an A.I. atmosphere any day over a natural one. They took the fractalized beauty of an organic planet and punched it up that much more. I looked over at my band mates, all drunk and glum and looking like wet sad kittens, and giggled. "What the fuck are you so cheery about?" Sam griped. Snipe grunted and fell off his cushion, emitting a puddle of drool on to the floor. Drunk bastard. I laughed and felt happy, truly happy for the first time since our whole adventure had begun. Even Jess sat up. She exchanged confused and hopeful glances with Sam. "What?" she asked. I knocked back my cup of sauce and ordered another round. Sam clamped her hand down on my wrist, whispering, "Are you sure we can afford that? We're kind of short of funds, are did you just fucking lose your mind?" I nodded and was overcome with the giggles. I gave Snipe a sharp jab in the ribs with the dull tip of my cheap heels. Our clothes were not exactly electric, but then they were free and from a nice charity, so who was I to complain? I resolved to donate to them as soon as we were in the black again. "She's fucking lost her mind," Sam told Jess, who nodded, but grinned as well. "Maybe... or maybe she's got something. What've you got?" Jess bounced across the cushion and draped her sexy legs across my lap. She was playing the little girl again, and it served her so fucking well, and she was good at it. Every man in the bar wanted to take care of a little girl like her, and by take care of I meant fuck until one of them, possibly both, walked funny for a week. The drinks arrived and I sipped mine, feeling its heat, my head all buzzy and swimming like I liked. The great thing about being a girl is your bar tab is never really yours. There were always guys who were willing to contribute to the cause, even if it was in the hopes of benefitting from your uninhibited libido. I'd be lucky to make it back to the hotel tonight. I'd probably end up on the wet side of one of these handsome boy's mattresses. "We've forgotten who we are," I told them. "We know who we are," Sam informed me. "We also know we're fucked. We don't even have enough money to buy our way off planet." "Yes," I agreed, and sipped my drink, a stupid grin stuck on my face, "but we do have enough to buy new rigs." "New... new rigs," Jess wondered. Sam started to complain, but froze in mid-motion, her finger ready to wag but shrinking, her jaw clamping shut. She sat back and crossed her arms, suddenly deep in thought. "Well whaddya know." "But," Jess continued, "it's all wrong. Our voices won't work the same." "We'll need new harmonies," Sam explained, more to herself than to us. "We can play old stuff, or well, uh, 'covers' until we write new stuff." Jess sat back and a smile broke out across her lovely face, dimples appearing in her cheerleader cheeks. "We certainly have enough material, don't we?" I giggled and nodded and raised my shot glass up for a toast. Another round of drinks appeared at the table. I looked at the waiter. "But we didn't-" "From the table there by the patio," he explained. Three lovely looking boys raised their drinks and smiled like the wolves they were. The three of us giggled. "We'll need a new name," Sam complained, ignoring our new benefactors and potential companions for the night. Snipe sat up, loose and wobbly and looking like he might topple back over any second. In the clearest, crispest voice he said, "... don wanna play in no fucking girl band." It was the voice he hid in the harmonies, but that we'd never actually heard. There was no snarl, no grunt, just a clear rich tone that shocked the shit out of us. I pushed him back down with my heel and he grunted, "... well's fuckit!" The three boys were approaching our table. We weren't exactly beauties at this point, and were self-conscious as hell, our makeup substandard, our clothing charitable, nothing smart and sexy, but it didn't seem to matter. "We're fugitives," Jess whispered. "Well, yes," Sam agreed. "I guess we are. If we leave this planet, we'll have to be careful." I pondered the point. "So we'll play the Gulliver circuit. There's enough of these artificial globes to fill a lifetime of tours. I'll get our agent to contact the Gulliver entertainment director." It wasn't our first choice. It was like playing a cruise ship, but considering how much sex and booze and how many women, er, men came to these places, I felt certain we could do fairly well. "Nooo," Jess whined, and held up a finger to the three boys standing by our table. They obeyed like the sexually deviant puppies they were. "I mean... we're fugitives!" Sam and I exchanged glances. Sam pointed to her with a thumb, about to say, "What in the hell is she going on about?" but then we all got it. "We're 'The Fugitives'," I said. It was a good name. Hell, it was a good back story. We might lose a few of the first gender demographic, but we'd sure as hell pick up the rest, second, third, fourth gender and so on. And the best part was that it was all true. We were the band that got in trouble on a police planet, jumped across borders and genders to make our escape, then began a new band. Three sexy girl rockers with one male leftover, has-been drummer. The Fugitives. We raised our drinks and toasted. After we'd knocked them down and were all roasty and toasty inside with liquor and dreams of the future, Sam put a sparkle in her eyes, a seductive grin on her lips and addressed our gentleman callers. "So... what are you lovely boys doing tonight?" The first one, the smart one, replied, "You... we hope." Right away I knew he'd been claimed by Sam. He just didn't know it yet. I kicked Snipe's leg out of the way to make room for my pick, who was a lovely, if shy young thing with brown curls and electric blue eyes. The Fugitives were ready to rock, but first... a little roll. THE END All The Fugitives' and Blatant 2.8's streams can be found on light frequencies 16 through 108, and parts of 122. They are currently playing Gulliver 15 from April 5th through August 28th. To join the Fugitives' fan club or to start your own POP, link to stream 6 and input "The Fugitives Live @ 68 LWF".