Eleven

11th Sun: Chapter 8: Marcus

I stand for a long time in front of Paint. They must do a lot of business, they have a fancy sign that changes color and font. This is what you want. Go in there.

I don’t move.

Go in there, Eleven!

I move. Put my hand on the door handle. Open it. Step inside.

The smell in here is overwhelming. A hundred different kinds of perfume. There are vials on the wall. Lotions, soap, scrubby things, all in pastel.

I have entered the Temple of Woman.

11th Sun: Chapter 7: Street Meat

I step out of the hanger, into the core, on the zero level, and there’s just ringed corridor with some personal elevators, and a bunch more freight lifts. D’Neesha’s is on level 2? I find the button, which is on a box, suspended from the ceiling, by a cable. The lift doesn’t close, just jerks to a start. I watch the innards of the tube scroll past, and look out on the first level for a moment.

11th Sun: Chapter 6: Logan's Fun

“Yah need a carbon mod fer yer printer, but I dun’t think you’ll know how ta print one.”

First male I’ve talked to while I have breasts. He’s not attractive, thank god.

I’m on call with a Sector & Sector mechanic who knows nothing about me, or the mission, but is supposed to know a hell of a lot about this ship. Maybe he does, but I’m coming face to face with an attitude that should have died out last millennium.

“Look little lady, is the ship captain there, I think he’d better understand what I’m talking about.”

11th Sun: Chapter 5: Fire

I’m getting a welcome signal. Someone wants me to come visit them.

There’s a little HAM Digital receiver in the flight deck. I picked it up in a truck stop, with a wink and a nod, for $100 bucks, ten years ago. It’s about the size of a lunch box, with a four foot antenna cluttering up the deck. I’ve got a pretty heft load on the antenna, so it’s strong enough to pick up from inside the ship. There’s no jack for an antenna on the surface hull, and it would get melted into vapor on re-entry in any case.

11th Sun: Chapter 4: Speculation

“How has your week been?” Dr. Jordan has a plate of chobbish and is munching away. I have (ugh) noodle rations. We’ve been having dinner together once a week for four weeks now. It’s been about four days since I managed to get off for the first time, and now I’ve been doing it at every opportunity. Sometimes I dress up, sometime just my thoughts are enough to get me off.

“You said I’d have a teenager’s libido. That’s pretty much true.” I still fantasize about Dr. Jordan’s mouth, but I’m learning to control it.

11th Sun: Chapter 3 [XXX]: Tantilization

Okay. I’m ready to touch my pussy now.

The clothes have me hotter than ever. I turn off the monitors, then turn them all back on again. Why do I want to watch myself? Why wouldn’t I want to watch myself? I’m hot as hell.

Still in the stockings and heels, still squatting, my fingers run down my chest to my stomach. It’s a straight line to the tip of my clit. On the monitors I can see it peaking out of my engorged lips. I don’t go straight for it, I’ve been around the block a few times. I know what a woman wants.

What this woman wants is tantalization.

11th Sun

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The 11th son of a intergalactic CEO, Eleven has no place in the company. Instead his father puts him to work running guns across the galaxy. On a mission to a planet uninhabitable by "classic" humans, he opts to grow a body that can deal with the rigors of interplanetary commerce.

11th Sun


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Eleven

11th Sun: Chapter 2: Adjustments

I’ll be honest, I panic.

First because some girl managed to stowaway aboard the ship. That’s a huge problem, she’s going to be hungry and I only have enough food for 6 months of me and no one else.

This assumption lasts for long enough for me to turn around and see no one behind me.

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11th Sun
Eleven

Updates Saturdays. Yes, every Saturday.

Influenced strongly by Heavy Metal Magazine, featuring: transgender exploration, promiscuous debauchery, noir humor, space drugs, reckless violence, and weird alien sex.

11th Sun: Chapter 1: Birth

“My dad is not a very nice person,” I explain to my therapist. “Maybe it’s because he never expected to have a child after number ten. Maybe because he was 96 when I was born. Maybe because he’s an asshole.”

My therapist signals that I should go on, “When I was born my oldest brother had just been married, my youngest,” Here I gesture with my fingers on my glass. “Well the one closest to me, was starting High School. He didn’t have time for me.”

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