Gulliver's Planet 3: Little Girl Blew (Part 4) free porn video

Tales from Gulliver's Planet: Little Girl Blew By [email protected] Part IV Alex was cleaned and dressed and presented like a skinny turkey to the chief of the Indians. Captain Scoley scowled at her and snarled at his men in between long tirades of profanity. Where had she come from? How much had she cost? Where had the money come from? Who had smuggled her on board? Which responsible party had inadvertently volunteered to have himself vacated through the nearest manhole out into the vacuum of space? He marched up and down, his whole head an ugly purple-pink color like the head of a penis, but not nearly so delightful. He was bald, seemingly hairless, and the meanest S.O.B. of them all (or that's what Wassar had said, anyway). She stood behind him, appearing properly cowed and ashamed right up until the point when the conversation somehow segued to Hume. When Captain Scoley landed a closed fist on the top of the boy's head and sent him to the floor in an unconscious heap, she'd had enough. She threw herself in front of him and wagged her finger up at him, having to crane back her neck just to make eye contact. "Now look here!" she scolded, "Maybe if you weren't such a bungle hole all these boys wouldn't be stressed out and wouldn't need a good fuck to just set them straight again!" She suppressed a giggle when she saw his pink head turn white. But then, he bared his canines at her and gave her a look that made her want to crawl into some deep, dark maintenance hole and stay there. Through gritted teeth, he asked, his breath coming and going like steam through a hot vapor plate. "What... did you call... me?" She blanched, smiled hopefully, and gulped, only slightly aware of how cute she was. "I, uh, a bungle hole? I just mean-" She tried a little giggle, and saw one deep crease of his angry brow release, but that was it. He turned to Marsham and continued seething. "You will take this THING and stow it in my personal locker and report back to the A-Man for duties. Is that clear, sailor?" Marsham blanched, turned more pale than she'd ever seen, and nodded. He gave her a sorrowful, weepy-eyed expression, but grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her out of the room. Only three decks later did he let loose a chuckle. He couldn't help himself. "I can't believe you called the captain a bungle hole." "I'm sorry!" she pouted. "Don't be," Marsham told her. "It was only a matter of time till he found you. We had a good ride. I knew it when I bought you. Hell," he grinned, "we lasted a lot longer than I thought we would." She let a few pearls of tears slip down her cheeks. "It's my fault. If I hadn't pulled this stunt-" He whipped her around by the upper arm and caught her by the shoulders, pulling her up against his hot mouth. She was surprised but melted soon enough. With a gasp and a sigh, she felt his lips leave hers, but his hands had her by the arms again and he gave her a little shake. "Don't you ever do that again! Y'hear me? None of us has ever had such a-such a-such a high-class fucking in our lives." She felt hopeful and sad and weepy. "Really?" He nodded, and she couldn't be sure, but for a half second, right before he turned away and began dragging her after him again, she could've sworn she thought she saw a tear in his eye. "What's he going to do with me?" she wondered. There was a long moment of silence marked. "Probably sell you." "Oh." "On the other hand," he sighed, "maybe you'll get lucky." "Lucky like how?" "Maybe he'll just fuck you." She let him push her into the Captain's Quarters, let him push her down into a locker, was strangely reminded of the first time he'd pushed down her into a duffle bag, and felt herself getting all weepy again. # # # She remained curled up in the locker for nearly a day, lonely, lost and pouting. She tried weeping intermittently, when she was sure Captain Scoley could hear, but it did not have the desired effect. He just barked at her. "Hush!" She crossed her arms and wondered what to do. She'd heard the whining of the coils and the weird, spacey feeling of the ship at full thrust. She wondered if the captain wanted to be rid of her so bad, why hadn't he just dumped her off back at port? Why take her along? Unless.... She smiled to herself. "He likes me." No, a voice told her, which didn't sound like her own voice at all, he's probably shipping you someplace he can sell you. She frowned, wept loudly, and sobbed for real this time. No good though. "Hush!" By her internal clock, she'd been stuck in the locker for three days. Well, that was enough of that. She was meant for better things than to be packed away like an old uniform. When she heard him bumping around his spacious cabin again, she gave the door of her locker a little knock, just quiet enough to annoy him. His bumping stopped. She knocked again, quiet, but insistent. He whipped the door open. "What!" She gave him a small wave and a smile. "Oh... uh... hi! Can I get out now? I'm-" He slammed the door. She crossed her arms, frowned angrily and knocked again. "Hush!" She knocked and finally called out to him. "Uh, Mister Captain, Sir? If you really want to sell me I'm going to be all stiff and not a very good buy unless I get to walk around and lubricate my joints." She sucked on her bottom lip, nibbled on it, wiggled her nose, sighed, waited, tapped her fingernails on the metal and after an eternity was rewarded with fresh air. He whipped the door open again. "I thought you were built for long term storage." "Uh, well, yes and no." He glared at her. "Start with the yes." "Look," she glared back at him, "what do you care anyway?" She sniffled. "You're just gonna sell me. I was just trying to help. I don't know all the... stupid-" Her sniffles turned into tears which conveniently made their way down her cheeks and into her moving lips which in turned conveniently made her speech wet and phlegmy. "-stupid techno-whatever. I'm not supposed to. I just know I have to move or I get rundown and stiff and I'm no good to anybody and you're being so mean and I'm just trying to-" "All right already. Just shut up." He stood back out of the way. "Move around then get back in and keep quiet." She slipped by him, but caught a good hard whiff of his sweat. It was even worse because he was so mean and now she was getting turned on. She couldn't seem to help it. She could feel her body working, metabolizing his odor, the little lab in her stomach breaking down the molecule, synthesizing a counter agent. Suddenly, she felt flushed and realized her body was producing pheromones, mixing it with her natural perfume. She turned and stared at him. His glare never faltered. "Well? Are you just going to stand there? I thought you needed to move around." She nodded sullenly and walked around the cabin. "I don't guess I could have some clothes." He thought about it. When he was deep in thought, she noticed, he looked like someone having a really bad bowel movement. She tried not to giggle, but couldn't help the quiet little grin that broke out on her face. "I'll have Marsham send some, but nothing too slutty." "Thank you." He barked at her. "Done?" She gulped and shook her head. "It takes a little longer and I haven't-" "I don't need the entire blueprint. I want you back in the locker and quiet as soon as you're done." He brushed past her, sat at his station and brought up an omni chart, communing with the auto-nav with a skill that impressed her. She wondered why she would be impressed by that. She knew how difficult it was, somehow, almost as if she'd tried it before. She had the strangest memory of being very young and trying to spin a chart, trying to plot a course from an OG to a destination as an exercise, but failing miserably.... "What are you doing?" Captain Scoley fussed at her. She blinked. "Huh?" "Why are you making that face?" She blinked some more. "What face?" He gritted his teeth. "If you think your cute act is going to get you somewhere with me... it won't." She swallowed hard and blushed. "I... I wasn't trying--" "I think you should get back in the locker now." She nodded, pouted and headed back to her little prison, crawling inside, but hesitating to shut the door all the way closed. "Captain, Sir?" Was it her imagination or was his voice a lot less barky all of a sudden? "What?" "I hope I bring you a lot of money." He leaned back in his chair, head slightly to the side. She could just make out the slope of his square shoulders. His response was little more than a grunt of acknowledgment, but she could've sworn it was a slightly tender grunt. She pouted, did it on purpose this time, and whispered softly with no trace of shame. "At least I'll be of some use to you." # # # They had a little bedtime ritual. He would come to the cabin, angry and tired, and she would get to take a short stroll, sometimes asking him questions like, "How long before we get to the place where you can sell me?" He would answer absent-mindedly like, "Week or two. We've got a job to finish before that." She pretended to stretch, sunk her bottom to the floor and spread out her legs, bending over first one way, then the other, letting the skin tight outfit do wonderful things to her figure. "Oh, are we carrying cargo for someone?" He snorted. "Something like that. First we have to get it." She got to her feet, turned so her bottom faced him, and bent over until her nose sank between her knees. She glanced at him through the part in her legs. His eyes took a moment to run over her ass. She smiled to herself. "When we get-" "Hush now." It wasn't a bark, but it wasn't a request. It was, however, a much softer tone he'd used with her before. "I've got to think." She didn't risk peering over his shoulder; she wasn't that foolish, but she did notice he was studying the specs of a building. It looked a lot like a government spread; a remarkable, yet marginal sameness ran through every door, every window. She wondered how they managed to be so boring. When he looked up at her an hour later, she was sitting on the end of the bed with her legs crossed, blowing a lock of her hair up, letting it fall, then up again. She caught his eyes and put on her worried, "uh-oh, busted" expression. "Can you lie?" he asked out of nowhere. She hopped off the bed and hurried back to the main room where her locker was stored. "Um, well, yes, I guess I have to sometimes." "A doll that can lie." He growled. "That's all we need. Why do you have to lie sometimes?" "Well, people don't like the truth, at least not the true truth." "So, you could be lying to us all then?" His eyes wandered over to the emergency hatch. A quick throw, a quick switch and she would be blown out into space without another thought. Just in case. "I don't lie without a purpose." He chuckled. "I'm sure everyone lies with a purpose." "But I only have one purpose." "Which is?" She cocked her head sideways and looked surprised, eyes twinkling. "To make men happy, of course!" He snorted again. "Hmph! So men are happiest when a woman is lying to them. Is that it?" She gave him a sly grin. "It's like, if a guy has a really small cock. You don't tell him that, even if, especially if he asks... although they never do." He leaned back in his chair, letting its creak soothe him, slapping his hands on top of his head as he eyed her cleavage, her bare belly with its small dipping naval, her legs, one crossing over the other at the knee, her foot bouncing and making little circles. "So, you tell them they've got monster dicks then?" She blushed, grinned, cupped her ear and tucked a lock of hair away. "No, of course not. They wouldn't believe that. Guys with small cocks know they have small cocks. I focus on some other part of them, tell them how much I love it, give it a little extra attention, hum and coo and worship it." "And if they ask?" She blinked. "They never do." He leaned forward, the chair creaking. "But if they did?" She furrowed her brow, wrinkled her nose. "I'd tell them how girls didn't really like big cocks because they're scary and we don't admit it because we're nice but the big ones actually hurt us sometimes." He studied her. She looked so innocent. He half believed she believed it and she'd just made it up. "Shit." She went wide-eyed. "What?" He shook his head. "Shouldn't you be back in your locker?" She sighed. "Really?" "I've got work to do." She turned and took a step, but hesitated. "I could keep the bed warm for you." "Locker." "Wouldn't it be nice to crawl into bed with a soft, warm girl?" "I can do better than a doll. Locker." She pouted and headed for the locker. "Can they track you?" She turned. "Huh?" "Gulliver. His people. Do they have any way of tracking you?" She thought about it. "I don't know. I don't think so. They would've found me by now, wouldn't they?" "Maybe." "Besides, trackers don't work so well in space, do they? It's too big. I think it's more likely if I was ever on the wave I'd have a compulsion to send a SAR signal." He thought about it. "Do you have access to any of the crew member's waves?" "Um, well...." "Shit. Which one?" "I don't wanna say, besides it's only the intra-com." He turned back to the specs. "It's A-man, isn't it?" Her jaw dropped and she let out a little gasp of surprise. "How did you know?" He snorted. She bit her lip and hesitated. "So..." His chair creaked slightly. "Can I sleep in the bed?" He was silent. Silent enough for her to take the chance. # # # She made it a habit to be "around". Sometimes she was just stretched her joints, pretending to keep them lubricated. Other times she doted on him, brought him little snacks and booze (which she put in a glass, despite his protests). "I don't need a mother." It was a common complaint when she did things, cleaned a little, made the bed, but he always accepted her service, she noted. She made herself available every time he let out a sigh or a grumble, just in case he needed to talk. All the while, she kept herself clean and smelling like a girl should. The pheromones probably didn't hurt either. It took her three days to get his cock between her legs that first time. It was funny how he resisted. She honestly thought he'd never come around, but some little voice inside said he would, that he couldn't help himself. Why, she wondered. The little voice said because he's a man, and the harder he is, the softer she should be. So, she became soft. Adorable, sweet smelling and gentle. She adjusted her movements. She no longer thought of the other men at all, how they liked it when she moved sexy, how they liked her lean and hungry. She concentrated on slipping around on bare feet in the most lacy, feminine lingerie she could find. He resisted, barked at her, grumbled about her always hanging around, always being underfoot, being always in his way, about how he should stick her back in the locker until he could sell her outright, about how he was willing to take a loss just to get rid of her. She frowned, pouted, even teared and sniffled every now and then, but kept her mouth shut. When he got too mean, she ran to another room and thought about how she could make herself softer, gentler, and about how the voice must be wrong, because he was meaner than ever. Just wait, the voice said. She picked up his clothes, put them in the laundry chute. She brought him a small cup of Schla, perched the spoon on top with a small ball of Herald on the saucer just like he liked. She watched him reach for it without so much as a thank you. When he let out his first yawn of the night, she turned down the bed, readied the abraser, warmed the floor tiles and waited for him. He moved past her without a word, clearly irritated. She watched the soap particles raze the dirt from his flesh, waited for the blower to finish and handed him a warm toddy. He took it from her downed it, and handed it back. He said nothing, barely looked at her. She frowned miserably, but returned the dishes to the kitchenette, shut down his station and crawled into bed to warm up his side. She closed her eyes, continued frowning, heard him slam some cabinet doors and then enter the room. She propped herself up and twisted her body to see him, her gaze slipping from his cold eyes down the hair of his body to his chest, so broad and hard, and his hands, wide and calloused with veins snaking their way up into his wrists and lower arms. She caught herself taking a deep breath when she noticed his cock, nestled among a dark mass of oily black curls, fully erect. She swallowed, blinked up at him. Lips, the voice told her. She wet them, wondering if the voice was right after all, because tonight was different. He'd never approached her this way before, naked and fierce. There was suddenly so much tension in the room. He stopped at the side of the bed and gazed down at her. "Why are you on my side?" It was an accusation, an admonishment. She gulped and blinked, looked up at his face. "I... I always warm up your side first, but I usually hear you coming in and move before-" He placed his palm on her cheek. She could feel her face catch fire. Her eyes fell to his cock, hanging there, almost expecting it to twitch, to reach for her. His fingers wrapped around to the back of her neck, resting under her ear, just under her hairline. His thumb slid to her mouth. She blinked, parted her lips and let his thumb invade her, increasing her internal temperature, letting her tongue simulate a warm, slippery pussy. He pushed her back onto the bed, whipped the covers away, pushed her panties to the side and penetrated her. She gasped. Loudly. She tried to flow against him, to melt into him, but he pinned her down and took her. The fucking didn't last long. But her joy lasted through until morning. She snuggled up against his sleeping body and smiled. # # # He fucked her raw every day. Every morning, she was on his cock with her mouth, waking him in the best way she knew how. Every noon, she was bent over his bed and taken, quick and hard and dirty, sometimes in the ass, sometimes in the mouth, sometimes in the pussy. It was a little roulette of desire which made her tingle every time she found herself wondering how he would want her today. She looked for patterns. Was he having a good day, a bad day, a frustrating day? Were they far from port or close? As far as she could tell, it was an entirely random, on the spot, decision that delighted her even more because of it. Every night, she was a tender kitten that he used, smoothing out her soft skin, sometimes tossing her around, roughing her up until she panted and whimpered. The softer she made herself, the more he lunged into every part of her. But she missed her men. She wondered if they missed her. She wanted to run out and give each of them a weekend fuck, but the captain wouldn't have it. One day, Hume snuck in to check on her, at the behest of the men. She hurriedly and sloppily sucked the poor boy off (not her best effort, due to the rush), but the captain found out. Oddly, he wasn't furious with her, but with the men for putting Hume up to it. He boiled to a rage, threatened to dump the lot of them off at the next port and find a new crew. They complained, or so she overheard, that they'd been the ones who had brought her on board so why was he the only one getting to play with her? The captain reminded them that they hadn't "brought" her on board; they'd smuggled her, brought a stolen G-doll on to the ship that could get them all arrested. Not that she'd really been stolen. She'd been found, but they had bought her and hadn't been in a mad rush to return her. The threat of punishment kept them quiet, but she was the captain's next stop. He riddled her with angry questions. Why had she gone down on Hume? Why wasn't she satisfied with just him? Why did she want to be with the men? She told him the truth. Because it was the way she was designed. "I'm not like you!" she cried. "You have so many purposes. You can choose whatever you want to do, whatever you want to care about, whatever you want to be good at! I only have one purpose and it's programmed into every filament of my being." He cursed her and gave her a quick back hand. She flew back onto the bed and burst into tears. "Your manufactured tears don't do work on me," he griped. "It doesn't matter anyway," she sobbed. "I keep forgetting you're just a toy. You're not real." She pouted, sniffled, noticed his blank, cold expression. "Haven't you every heard of the law of Echo?" He blinked, took a step back. "Yes... of course I have." "It only has to be feel real by 2.8% to have R-factor merit on the HNS." "Yes... I've heard that." He studied her as if she were an insect crawling out of a hole. "And Gulliver probably has our programming at something like 80% or something." "You're still just a simulation running a simulation-" She gazed hard into his eyes, and the little voice inside her was with her, agreeing, feeling the tears still wet on her cheeks, the sorrow, the sensation of being lost and alone. "If it feels real, it is real." He flexed his jaw, turned away from her. "I don't want you playing with the others. I'm the captain. I don't give a damn if it's selfish. They're lucky I didn't throw you out into space." "So buy me then." It surprised her as much as it did him. "What?" She blinked and felt a strange, slightly uncomfortable prickling sensation on the back of her neck as the retail program kicked in. An artificial half-smile took hold of her lips and she heard herself speaking without any control. A script was running and she was stuck until it finished. "I can be purchased at any G interface for the low price of 18.2 k. With me you get the ownership download and full use of my capable services. I will also be covered under a lifetime maintenance program where I can receive core and shell updates. As new sexual techniques and equita are discovered within my platform, I will develop them as much as my hardware will allow." "Shit." She blinked and looked around the room. She wasn't crying anymore, she knew that much, but she wasn't entirely aware of what had just happened. He looked at her and said, "That's a lot of money." She gave him a quizzical smile. "Huh?" # # # "So, they can't track our IP?" "Oh, they can track it, but it won't do them any good." "Explain." Zeal rubbed his bald head, the lines forming on his forehead as his ghostly blue eyes narrowed. "I don't have an IP. Get it? I dive into the stream and piggy-hack another, do the DL and get out. They'll track the planet, maybe even the city, but that's as far as they'll get." The captain stroked his chin. He licked his lips, glanced over at Alex. "How much?" "32k." "Fuck you." "Non-negotiable." "How much did you say, Alex?" She stiffened, blinked her wide eyes. "What?" "She said 18k," the captain answered for her. Zeal's snarl was actually a sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, for a legal patch." Captain Scoley eyed her again, thinking. "Get over here." Alex hopped to her feet and presented herself to him, smiling, giving him a little "at attention" and a salute. "Reporting for cock, Sir!" The two men giggled like girls. Zeal spoke. "Cute. Did you-" "Fuck no! I'm telling you, she just does things like that." Alex looked at them both, feeling a little cross. "I was just being cute. You don't have to talk about me like I'm a wave station. I'm standing right here." "See?" Scoley grinned. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes, crossed her arms and turned away from them, pouting. "Y'know," Zeal mused, "I've never had an authentic Gulliver girl before. If you wanted to reduce the price...." Scoley grunted. "Here's your 32." Zeal grinned, but even Alex could see the disappointment in his eyes. She didn't like the way his lizard lips curled when he looked at her. It didn't help that for the first time in months she was off the ship, back in a port, and she hadn't gotten to see any of it. They'd gone straight from the dock to a darkened tram. She'd seen the whizz of the city lights in the night, but not much else. When the doors steamed open, they'd been spit out into a grimy backwater town and had gone not more than twenty feet before hitting the back door of Zeal's filthy, junkyard paradise. He took Scoley's credits and swept a pile of junk from a nearby table. He grinned at her and slapped the plastic surface. She did her best to smile, but it was weak at best. Still, there was something sweet and romantic about Captain Scoley wanting her this way. She couldn't help feeling honored and all warm and tingly inside. "It's just as well," Zeal said, "I don't think she likes me." "She likes whoever I tell her to like," Scoley joked. Alex frowned. He didn't have to say that. She liked men, and she could've honestly found a way to like Zeal well enough to fuck him, but she wouldn't give him the works or anything special no matter what the captain told her. "Okay, login," Zeal said and they both looked at her expectedly. Her eyes shifted. "Oh, uh... um... okay." The strange tone that she'd used before was absent. She tried to remember what she did last time and could only remember the moment when she panicked, the moment she'd found herself stuck, frozen in place. It had been terrifying. She'd resisted it, but also, had been strangely excited by it. It was like being chased... and captured. She tingled at the thought. She'd been so out of control, so helpless. Something in her responded to it even now. She warmed all over, feeling wet and aroused, remembering the tone so clearly. In fact, it had been so clear, so memorable, so penetrating that she had no difficulty at all bringing back the sensations it caused. She remembered it tickling that spot beneath her right ear, and the bizarre connection to the suddenly unbearable tickle in her right butt cheek. She remembered how it seemed to just cover her all her thoughts as she sank back, took a back seat, letting the tone into the driver's seat, trying to draw it in, and the moment- -the moment when it caught. She was feeling it now, unable to push the tone away, even the memory of it. She tried to pull away from it and felt it push harder into her mind, drowning out all the static, the little voice that panicked-how odd, she was so excited, so turned on, but the voice she'd learned to trust was frightened, panicking because they both suddenly realized they were frozen, could not move a single finger or toe. "She's in," Zeal said, but Alex could only blankly stare straight ahead. # # # In public, she stayed two feet behind him and dressed in dark colors. HE liked her with black hair. HE liked her in leather. HE wondered if her neo-flesh would accept tattoos. HE wanted her to be a strong bitch that took no guff from the crew. She wanted whatever he wanted and felt herself changing almost without thinking. She saw her boys again, but they felt foreign to her now. They felt like boys, children that she patronized, that she somehow loved, but only as one loves children. Captain Scoley on the other hand, with his broad hairy chest, his square shoulders, his thin lips, was a man in every sense of the word. She could smell him if he'd even been through the walkway in the last few minutes. And when she smelled him, she just melted. She wanted to sink her nose into his chest and just breathe him in. Or even better, when she had the chance, to sink to her knees and press her nose deep into the sweaty, musky crevice between his balls and his thigh and inhale his most personal of scents. It was like some kind of heaven. She had no interest in the boys. They were nice, but they were not the captain. It was odd how it had developed. Ever since the last port, which she didn't remember so well, things had gotten a little hazy. In fact, she had trouble remembering anything before the stop. What she did remember was waking up and seeing Scoley's pretty blue eyes and gasping with sheer ecstasy. Her mind had spiraled into a strange whirl for a long time, as if all her thoughts were busy shifting positions, lining up, holding giant cards with letters, rearranging. She didn't know what the final result was, what word they might be trying to spell, but when things started to settle down, when her mind began to slow and feel normal again, she realized just looking at Captain, the captain, made her entire body go... mmm. She wasn't sure if her body had ever gone "mmm" before, but it kept happening. She thought, Could it have been a fluke? But no, every single time. She began to realize that she wanted him, every part of him, wanted to kiss every part of him, wanted every part of him touching her, wanted to be soft for him, wanted to serve him, wanted to do anything he wanted her to do. It was so wonderful, even though it did come me at a price. She realized at some point that she no longer heard that little voice that gave her such awesome advice. She missed it, but she didn't need it. She didn't need it. She didn't need anything. There was a strange hollow feeling when she thought about that, but she easily switched her silly thoughts to Captain's calf muscles, stretching, flexing, and the feeling of his hard calloused hands wrapped around her wrists. At the Hain system, the men were in a hustle and a bustle. None of them, not even the captain had time for her. She watched them, fetched things the captain told her to fetch, trying to be helpful. She could tell how tense he was, but he wouldn't let her help. She wanted to give him a long massage or at least her famous ten minute suck, but he wouldn't have it. Then they de-boarded and she was left alone with the ship. Hours passed, and she worried. She rolled around in HIS bed, stuck her head in HIS closet and breathed him in, wore one of his favorite shirts and curled herself up in it, just trying to stay close to his scent. She ran her fingers over the little items he'd so carefully placed in perfect positions around the bathroom sink, his brush, his glive, his nail gloss, his skin cream, his smoal, his shampoo. She even tried his setting in the abrasor, but it wasn't really to her liking. He liked it rough and penetrating, while she liked it gentle, exfoliating, but followed by a cool particle massage. She wanted to feel clean, not beaten. She was busy dreaming of all the times he'd forced her to the floor and fucked her ruthlessly when she heard the commotion of their return. There was blood and bruises. She grew worried. She grew panicked. She didn't see the captain. She was questioning them, but they were busy tending to their wounds. Marsham was slapping hands with the others, excited. Finally, bringing up the rear, Captain Scoley carried Hume's unconscious body. "What happened!" she cried. "Pipe down. He's only passed out. He's lost some blood, but he'll be fine. Was!" Wassar came and collected the boy's body, slung him over one shoulder and wandered to the medic station. As much as that concerned her, she fell against her captain, surreptitiously feeling around his body, seeing if he yelped or was sticky with blood anywhere important. He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed his mouth into hers, hard, until she realized she hadn't breathed for several long minutes. "I wasn't so sure I'd get to see you again. I'm glad I did." She wrapped her arms around his waist, slipping her hands down his pants to his to his firm ass, cozying her cheek against his chest. He pried her off of him for a moment, just long to yell at his crew. "Stow that cargo, Sailor!" He pointed, bellowed, and she shivered in his shadow thinking of the shape of his cock in her mouth and how she loved to buzz her tongue on the underside, loving the way it made him breathe funny. He caught Teriam by the neck. "Get us underway." "We filed for seven, Captain." "We're not deporting, we're just shifting. There's a reserved space on yellow 471. It's anonymous, so we shouldn't be found out." "What happened-" she tried again, but he wasn't listening. "Captain! We're NOT leaving?" It was Marsham, red in the face with a spark of stress in his tone, balled fists, hunched shoulders. "They'll have their eyes in the skies, convinced we're doing just what was suggested, Mister. So instead, we stay for a few nights. Leave when we come around light side. We've filed plans for two days from now, pre- reserved with new call numbers. No one will think twice. In the meantime, we shed the hull and make ourselves brand new." He grinned and Alex noticed his chest seemed to swell with pride. Marsham's face relaxed. He began grinning, and every second his grin just got bigger. He couldn't help chuckling. "Yes, Sir!" He reached down and pulled Alex close by her hair, gritting his teeth and whispering through his tight jaw. His hand grabbed her by the chin like a vice. "You go put on something tight that I can rip off you. I'm feeling hostile tonight." She grinned. He was going to use her, really use her. He was excited, tense, and he was going to practically rape her... or at least she hoped. # # # To her dismay, there would be no raping. In fact, she seemed to be no more than a pretty trophy, hanging around him whenever he wanted to show her off, staying away from him whenever he was busy with cards. She was disappointed, and lonely. Men came and went, hitting on her at the bar. She wasn't allowed to dance with them, and he glared at her if she even flirted with him. She wasn't allowed to have any fun. While he lost credits, she stood in the corner and waited for his eyes to meet hers, hoping he would request her. To pass the time she fantasized about him snapping his fingers for her, her rushing over, and him throwing her down on the table in front of everyone and taking her. She replayed the fantasy over and over in her mind, getting tingly and aroused, warm and wet and wanting him more than ever, maybe because he'd suddenly become so inaccessible to her. Sometimes she tried to escape him, only to be tied down and forced to pleasure him and every other man in the bar. Other times, she was a willing participant, eye fucking everyone in the room while he took her on all fours perched on the card table, showing everyone what an amazing fuck she was. Mostly, she just stood in a dark corner and watched her captain getting inconsolably drunk. The other men wouldn't even approach her. Hume averted his eyes anytime she noticed him. She didn't know what the captain had threatened them with that was worse then getting fired, but she wasn't getting any attention at all. She pouted. She watched for the captain to look at her, call for her, need something, anything, but the night wound on with her dressed in her hottest outfit, leather thong, stilts for heels, ultimate vixen "drama" makeup, and being nothing more than a devastatingly attractive lamppost. Then a stranger entered the bar. He was young, clean shaven, and decidedly out of place. While the rest of the bar patrons looked like they'd crawled off the bottom of a ship out in space for six weeks, this man had spilled out of a well organized office. His suit was immaculate, his lapels gleaming with silver holo-threads, but most of all, his nails were clean, his hands white and spotless. He noticed her immediately. He ordered a very expensive drink. She could see the bartender fish around for a key to gain access to the bottle. He turned, waited for his drink to be poured, and scanned the room. She saw his eyes seize on her captain's table almost at once. It worried her to no end. Something was wrong here. The captain was laughing, shaking the shoulder of a fellow card player and completely oblivious to the fact that he was being studied. The well dressed stranger made his way around the periphery of the bar, keeping an eye on the captain and his men at all times, stopping only when he was a table away from Alex. She could count the seconds before he smiled over at her. She smiled back. It was hard not to. Something in her program forced it out of her. She wished the little voice was still in her head; she missed it's advice. She felt silly all of a sudden and purposefully sought out the captain's gaze. But the captain was glassy eyed and busy. She remembered what he smelled like, sweaty and manly and delicious. She blinked and giggled, wondering what she'd just been thinking. "Hello." Startled, she turned and saw the stranger. By all rights, he was extremely attractive, an angular masculine jaw, clear blue eyes, bright white teeth, smiling like a wolf. "Hello," she smiled. "I'm sorry but I belong to Captain Scoley." His eyebrows raised. "Oh, is that right. Well, good for you. I belong to Amshine Inc. Do you know what that is?" She blinked and shook her head. "No." "It's... sort of a collection agency." She glanced over nervously at the captain. He was busy trying to light a cigar, and having difficulty because of his inebriated state. "You... you go after people who owe you money?" He grinned. His eyes did not catch the grin, however, but sharpened their stare. "Not money. Property." She felt naked all of a sudden, which was a new sensation. She'd never had any trouble being naked even in a sea of men, but with this man she felt she was being scrutinized and she didn't like it. His eyes were on her cleavage. His eyes were on her lips. His eyes were on her neck. She had her blonde hair up with just a few wispy strands helping to soften her look; his eyes were on that, too. "I... I should probably see if he needs me." The man's hand was quick. It caught her at the wrist and was like iron. She glanced down at it and back up at him. "Don't go." "I don't belong to you." "I know. You belong to Captain Anony Scoley. It was nice of him to buy you like that. You must be feel such wonderful things for him now." She blinked, tested his grip, which was absolute. She glanced over at the captain again, trying to alert him, but he was busy staring at his cards, letting out puffs of blue smoke like a sputtering engine. "I... I do." He was strong, stronger than her. She had been designed for endurance, not strength. He drew her closer to him, catching her other wrist and forcing her to look up into his eyes. "Of course you do. You're programmed to feel that way when someone becomes your owner." "Who... who are you?" She felt a tremor begin in the pit of her stomach. Something was very, very wrong. "I told you. I work for a collection agency. My name is Goldman." She tried to pull away from him, but he held her tight. "Please let me go." "This will only take a second. If everything checks out, I'll be out of your lovely blonde locks in just a moment." Through the nearby window, she saw three men approaching the bar outside, dressed in the same style suits as the stranger. They were in trouble. She started to turn and call for the captain, but the man suddenly let one of her wrists go. His hand dove into his pocket and came out with a small metal scope. She let her jaw drop, took a deep breath, and pushed the air through her voice box. "CAPTAIN-" He aimed the scope at her eyes and a small light clicked on and off. She felt her head rock back. She felt herself go blank. She felt a wave of relaxation plummet from the top of her head, progressing like a lightning bolt down her through her shoulders, melting every part of her, down through her tummy, through the small of her back. She felt calm. She felt happy and warm and safe. "Unit designation," the man's honeyed voice asked. Her mouth popped open. She could hear the audible clack of her heavily lipsticked lips parting. "UD 18-165030 Amy 15A." She stared at his mouth. Command prompt. "Hey!" A voice from behind her. A commotion. Command prompt. She stood and waited. Command prompt. She paused. She held her breath. Command prompt. The bar exploded with noise. Command prompt. The man's mouth disappeared. She stared at the wall. Command prompt. Suddenly, a spray of blood landed across the tiles. She saw the man fly past her, crashing through the window. An arm grabbed her around the waist and she was jerked back to her senses. She blinked, aware that her legs were pumping, her heart, too, her breath rushing out of her suddenly. She was running. The captain looked back at her and barked. "Come ON!" She looked behind her and saw several men in black suits chasing them. With a shock, there were more ahead, waiting for them the moment they exited the bar. Hume threw himself behind a partition and fired a foam gun at them. He caught one of the men around the legs who went down hard, knees glued together. Hume made a break for it, running after Alex and the captain. Then his eyes went wide and he froze in place. He went into convulsions and fell onto the floor. "HUME!" she called after him. Captain Scoley turned and saw the boy's crumpled body. He jerked her after him. "He's fine! Come on!" She pulled against him, tears streaming down her face. "But-but-" The captain twirled around her and caught her under the pelvis with his shoulder. She felt her feet lose the floor, felt the hard bone of his shoulder dig into her belly. She felt the bounce of his pace as he got back up to speed, pausing just long enough to fire off a fat pistol in their direction. The floor behind them exploded. She heard the strangers yelling at each other. The Captain turned a corner and was met by another agent, same black suit, eyes wide, clearly not expecting them. The captain spun out of that alley and into the next one, pulling a shelf of wave catchers down behind him to block the path. She couldn't make heads or tails of their whereabouts, but soon she was being carried down the long plank-way to their ship. Behind them, four men in black suits spilled out from the alleys and gave chase. She heard the whine and spit of the ship's engines thrum to life up ahead. They were going to make it. Then she heard a pop and the next thing she knew the captain was falling, and she was falling with him. She tumbled, head over heel, rolled to a sitting position and tried to shake off the dizziness. She glanced back at the captain and saw his forehead was bleeding. She crawled over to him and he yelled at her. "My feet!" There was some kind of foamy glue wrapped securely around both ankles. She pulled on it, looked up, saw the men in suits gaining on them, pulled harder, but it wouldn't budge. She was sobbing. "I can't get it!" The captain produced a pocket laser and tossed it to her, rolling onto his stomach. "Cut the nodule in the back." She could hear the thudding boots of the strangers only a few feet away. She whined. "I'll cut you." His arm shot out and slapped her hard on the rear, her thong little protection. She yelped automatically, the slap on her poor bottom traveling up her spine like a gunshot. "Cut me!" he ordered. She pressed the laser against the white gluey nodule and felt it give way. She saw blood, heard him scream, then felt his foot press against her chest. She tumbled back for a second, but sat up with an excited smile on her face. "I got it!" But the captain was on his feet and limping away. She watched in shock as he launched himself onto the landing platform, helped on by Marsham and Wassar. He looked back at her with blank eyes. "Capt-captain!" She called after him. In an instant, she was on her feet, running for him, sobbing. "Please!" The men were behind her. One of them got a few fingers in her hair and her head snapped back. She pulled against it, feeling the sting of hair being ripped out. She ran faster. "Please don't leave me!" But the landing platform was in the air already. Her heart thudded in her chest, in her nipples, in her cheeks and ears. She sobbed, still in shock, in disbelief. Then she was surrounded by well dressed agents. To her surprise, they didn't tackle her, didn't even lay a hand on her, but watched with her as the ship lifted from port and disappeared into the spherum outside. She recognized the stranger that stood before her; he'd been the one who had approached her in the bar. His lip was split. There was blood on his chin, soaking his shirt and tie. She gritted her teeth, flexed her jaw, set her eyes into a determined glare of hate and told him, "I won't tell you anything about him." The man smiled tenderly, his teeth stained with blood. "That's fine." She was ushered from the plank-way, back into the port, through dozens of men in security uniforms. She wrapped her arms around herself and was astonished to feel the man's suit jacket placed over her shoulders. She looked at him with defiance. "You'll never catch him." The man nodded. "We weren't after him." She blinked, but before she could say another word, he raised the scope and blinded her with the flashing light. She felt her mind give way and fell forward into his open arms. # # # "How are you feeling?" She opened her eyes. Blinked. Saw the man from the bar. "How are you feeling?" Sleepily, she sighed. "Fine, thank you." "Who are you?" She opened her eyes again, feeling a little bothered that he kept talking to her while she was trying to sleep. "Alex." He nodded. "Yes, but who are you?" She blinked, looked around the white-tiled room. There was a technician on a station a few feet away. "Alexander. Alexander Ames." Both men smiled. "Excellent. We re-installed all twenty-eight modules of your core download." Alex took a deep breath, tried to lean forward, but realized he couldn't. He was stuck in place. He gave the man a cute, quizzical look. "I'm... I'm still logged in?" "Yes. We're running diagnostics. You can sleep if you like. Gulliver wants to meet with you personally." A little voice piped up inside her, all happy and giggly and excited. "Gulliver?" It came out more cheerful than he intended. "THE Gulliver?" The man nodded again, a soft sympathetic smile growing on his face. "He insisted." Suddenly, a dizzying wave of sleepiness overwhelmed him. # # # Gulliver sat behind a clean prene desk in a clean prene room, looking rather clean himself. His dirty blonde hair was slicked back, pulled into a ponytail. His complexion was flawless. Alex wondered if this was the real Gulliver or just another bot or perhaps a clone. "Mr. Ames." "Mr. Gulliver?" "It's a pleasure to meet you. I wish it could've been under better circumstances." The two of them stared at each other. Alex pulled the sweater around his girl-bot body, feeling her breasts like two friendly strangers on his chest. He realized he was sitting more like a nervous girl, rather than an offended man. His knees were pressed together defensively; he'd wrapped his thin, lithe arms around himself. He was as curled into as much of a fetal position as he could manage while remaining in the sitting position. "You screwed me," Alex said quietly. Gulliver sighed heavily. He looked down at his clasped hands, unclasped them, used them to cinch up his pants at the knee and stood. He walked around the desk and sat in the chair opposite Alex. "I know, and I'm sorry, but I want you to understand it was all... a once in the lifetime accident. And we are working on it, have been actually for months, to make absolutely certain it never happens again." Alex nodded, looked into Gulliver's sincere, clear, blue eyes and nodded. "I... I just want to go home." It was Gulliver's turn to nod. He reached down and took Alex's delicate girl-bot hand. "Is this uncomfortable for you?" He glanced down at their hands. Alex looked down at them as well. "No. After so long, after all... I've.. she has done, this is hardly... well, it doesn't even compare." "Alex," Gulliver said, "she couldn't have done it without you." "What are you talking about? I was inactive." "You weren't. Not entirely. You were able to influence, advise. In fact," Gulliver smiled and shook his head, "I think it's safe to say that we could not have designed a G-Doll to do all the things you did. Not even on our best day. You don't know this, but no G-Doll is capable of improvising, taking control in the way you did." Alex dropped his eyes. "How do you know that?" Gulliver took a deep breath. "Because we looked over your memories." "Just another intrusion." "Alex," Gulliver squeezed his soft, small hand, "our G-Dolls cannot compete with any live woman. They are entirely too passive. They are given very specific programs, for very specific encounters, but you... you adapted and ultimately seduced every man that crossed your path. Our Dolls are incapable of that." Alex gazed deep into Gulliver's eyes. "Can I please go home now?" Neither of them liked the expression that fell over the man's face. "There's a problem." Through gritted teeth, Alex asked, "What?" Just then, two drinks drifted in on a hard wave. Alex waved his away, but Gulliver took them both and set them on the nearby desk. He sipped from his glass, placed it down on the desk with methodical exactness, and turned back to face his client. "First, I need to explain what happened. It's crucial to understand the accident in order to understand your options." Alex wrenched his face uncomfortably. "Options?" Gulliver raised a finger to quiet him. "Strinalites. Some call them satellites, though they do not fit the definition. Satellites orbit. Strinalites are fixed in position in space. There are approximately two thousand, six hundred and twenty-three strinalites between your PO and Gulliver-9, your destination. Some of them are decades old. We are assisting in their maintenance and repair, but it takes time and money. These strinalites, for the most part, are responsible for transmitting the twenty eight personality modules of our clients across space through lightwaves to our pleasure planets." Alex shifted in his chair uncomfortably, feeling the smooth flesh of his inner thighs rubbing against one another. "In order to facilitate faster speeds, we lease antenna space on most of the inter-planetary traffic, including our own cargo transports. In your case, your modules were jumped from strinalite 1845 to GC-45, one of our cargo ships carrying two hundred and eight five Gulliver brand pleasure dolls." "This isn't going to end like a fairy tale, is it?" Alex heard his sweet voice ask. He sounded so like a child that it depressed him. Gulliver pressed his lips together until they turned white. He knocked back the rest of his drink, collected Alex's glass and offered it to him. Alex took it, but didn't drink. "It so happens, in our unfortunate fairy tale, several undetected meteor showers caused significant damage to our ship, right before your signal was processed. These showers were composed of meteors too small and fast to be detected by the weather units. Some of them penetrated the hull and damaged the MPU. She, the mother unit, was supposed to gather the twenty eight modules of your personality and jump them to strinalite 1962, but she got confused. "We ship the G-dolls with no software for expediency. They're essentially blank. We broadcast the seven modules of their program on the way, including the latest updates, upgrades, and so on." Gulliver tapped Alex's glass with a shiny fingernail. "Do you see where I'm going with this?" Alex sipped the alcohol, and was surprised to discover it was a very high quality Bitter. He'd had it once at an advertising seminar, but he could never have afforded it himself. "Somehow the ship got confused and downloaded me into a damn doll. I figured out that much." "And then crashed. It took us four days to reclaim the existing dolls. The ones that didn't wander off as you did were much easier to collect." Alex's eyes flicked up. "Don't even try blaming this on me." Gulliver's eyes went wide. He shook his head. "No, of course not. Actually, out of the two hundred and eighty-five dolls that crash landed on Jahnisplaz, sixty of them left the crash site. Ten were destroyed. Twelve survived, but were irreparably damaged. We collected the remaining two hundred and three and sent search parties out for the remaining sixty." "How long did it take you to figure out that one of your ?dolls' had one of your tourists inside it!" He could feel the anger building, but it was expressing itself in ways that felt foreign to him. Rather than balling his fists and shouting at Gulliver, he felt tears on his cheeks and a tremble in his knees. "There's more to this than you think." Gulliver's tone was enigmatic. He clearly knew something and was waiting for the right time to relay it. "Fine. Finish telling me your story. And when you're done, take the liberty to upload my facts into the LL, and we'll see if there's any litigation I should explore." Gulliver looked at Alex's knees, soft, small and cute. He smiled with empathy and nodded. "You, of course, have the right to explore litigation under the autonomous entity laws." Why was Gulliver quoting the AE laws? It struck Alex as an odd thing to do. "Gulliver," Alex sighed. "I have no interest in suing you or anyone. I just want you to upload my damn mind back into my damn body." A strange, simpering smile appeared on Gulliver's face. "It's not... quite that simple." Alex glared at him. "What do you mean?" "Well, Alexander Ames has rights." Alex blinked. "I am Alexander Ames." "No, actually, you're a copy of Alexander's twenty eight modules that make up his core personality." Alex blinked again. "What do you mean ?a copy'?" Gulliver scooted closer, as if imparting a secret. "When the MPU was damaged, it confused your twenty eight with a G-doll update." Alex held his breath. "So?" "So," Gulliver licked his lips, chose his words carefully, "I've had this conversation fifty eight time already." Alex thought about it. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying," Gulliver frowned, dropping his eyes again, "that the mother unit of the ship didn't just install you into one doll." Alex inched forward until he was on the edge of his seat. The word "no" fell from his pink lips. Gulliver nodded, continuing. "The MPU installed you into all two hundred and eighty-five dolls." Alex shook his head. He waited a second and shook it again. He couldn't digest it. It was like trying to swallow a bone sideways. It just wouldn't go down. It meant more than he could wrap his mind around at moment. "There... there are two hundred other... me's?" "Well, not anymore. Most of them were reclaimed and... honestly... we consulted with all the legal venues to see what would be the most proficient way of handling the situation. It falls under the Law of Ratios, unfortunately." Alex smirked. Of course it did. Anything that tried to mix technology and the legal system fell into the black hole of ratial law. "Legislative bodies will always lag 62% behind technology." Gulliver grinned, a little too pleased with himself. "Technology doubles in speed and complexity every fourteen months. Even lawyers working around the clock couldn't keep up or predict the next legal cycle." He shook his head. "Anyway, the point is we are in unchartered territory. On one hand, your personality, this personality, exists on our hardware, which belongs to us. On the other hand, your personality, this personality has been illegally, although quite unavoidably and accidentally, copied." Alex gripped Gulliver's hand. "Is there... are you saying I can't go back?" Gulliver's lips formed almost a sad pout. "The real Alexander Ames walked into a Gulliver Travel Bureau over sixteen months ago. There was a small error message during his flight, but after a quick retransmit, he experienced the vacation of a lifetime. After which, he awoke and returned to his life." Alex tried to make his lips form the words, "real Alexander Ames". "I'm only a copy?" Alex said to himself, and felt tears welling in his eyes. "On the plus side, Alexander is aware of the situation and has requested copies of all two hundred and eighty-five modules. Up to this point, of course." Alex grinned, giggled a little, noticing it was not the chuckle he'd been going for. "How did he find out?" Gulliver shared his grin. "You're quite right, of course. We would've preferred to have handled this internally. Actually, he found out, because one of your ?sisters' managed to make her way back to him. Quite impressive when you consider the distance." Alex shook his head. "What did she do, sleep her way across the galaxy?" Gulliver laughed. "And had quite an enjoyable time of it, I understand." A thought struck Alex suddenly. He stood. He walked. He didn't no where he was headed, but he found himself facing a corner. He turned and looked at Gulliver. Trapped. I'm trapped. I'm stuck in this girl body and I'll never be able to leave. Gulliver studied him carefully. "You have options." Alex felt the tears slip down his cheeks. "But none of them include going home, do they?" Gulliver appeared sullen. "No. I'm sorry." # # # The real Alexander Ames had negotiated, to his credit, not only for his wealth, but also for his peace of mind. All the dolls were to be given options. All their experiences were to be recorded and sent to him. In his way of thinking, he hadn't just gotten one vacation; he'd gotten two hundred and eighty-five. All of the Alex dolls were to be treated as autonomous entities as much as Gulliver could allow. Of course, Gulliver couldn't allow their programming to go unchecked. He had a empire to maintain, afterall. Anyone could build a fully functioning android. But only Gulliver had the software that made customers pay top dollar to be with them. Option 1: Alex could stay in the Amy chassis. He / she would be an employee of Gulliver, privy to vacation time, salary and a health plan befitting his status. He could choose his level of employment, waitress, hostess, pleasure doll.... Alex didn't want to think about it, but it was a good offer. Gulliver employees were some of the highest paid in the galaxy, and he was certain if he asked, he might find a spot as an advertising tech. On the other hand, he didn't miss his old life. He'd been bored with it, which was why he'd wanted a vacation. Option 2: Alex could choose a transfer to a male chassis, where he could be considered an employee of Gulliver with the same stipulations as Option 1. Gulliver warned him that while this could be done, the programming between him and the Amy modules had become so integrated that he would feel uncomfortable and out of place. Still, if that's what Alex wanted, it could be arranged. Option 3: Alex could choose to waive his autonomous rights, whereupon his program would be erased. He was no fan of that. He preferred to live. He wondered why it had even been included as an option. Gulliver told him four Alex-G-dolls had actually chosen self termination. He couldn't imagine. Alex asked about being perhaps transferred to a clone body, but he was informed it was against the law. He was officially a software program with illegally encoded autonomous information. No court in the universe would set a precedent for programming a human body, even if it was a clone body, with artificial intelligence. Alex thought about his men. Her men. A little voice inside him wondered about them. He looked out of his suite at the blinding Sun setting behind the planet below. Ships were whizzing into and out of Gulliver's enormous station. The film on the windows bathed everything in a coppery glow. Gulliver-9 was marbled with blue and white. Something in him wanted to see the boys again. All the lovely men with their smiling lips and erect cocks. Strangely, he didn't miss the captain at all. It had been a program, after all. He felt no love for the man, but if he returned, there would be nothing to prevent him from being bought and owned all over again. Not to mention the fact that it was only a matter of time until one or all of them were caught and imprisoned. He might be returned to Gulliver if that happened. Or he might be stolen again and sold. No, he told the little voice inside him, going back to them wasn't an option. Something inside him pouted. He grinned. But there was another option. This option would bring him into contact with all sorts of new men, who she could make happy. Something inside him nodded and smile happily. Alex looked at his reflection in the dimming windows of Gulliver's space station. Such a cute face. So small. Long, straight black hair with blunt bangs. Shining blue eyes. White, soft creamy complexion, blushing furiously with just the thought of what they were about to do. He logged into the wave and asked for Gulliver's HR Department. Suddenly, her lips popped open, wetted themselves and formed a glossy smile. Alex allowed it, just to see, and was rewarded with a joyful, childlike voice exclaiming, "This is going to be FUN!"