Roleplay Ideas and Openings for Rps. MXF mostly...

[crosswordaholic]

( I'm making a new thread because my old one is pretty old.)
I Haven't been on here for a while and I miss roleplaying desperately, so check out my ideas and feel free to shoot me some of your own.
I really am just looking to get back in the game, I'm a pretty competent writer and prompt with replies.
Newest Craving:
-----------------------------------------------------

Name: Modern Goldilocks (needs better title :?)
Setting:Modern, somewhere city-like.

Story: (Just gonna keep this basic) Broke woman new to the city gets a job part time as a maid with a maid company to support her metal music aspirations and finds herself cleaning an apartment that is more lavish than anything she's ever seen. Especially the shower. Since the owners not home what harm can it do to get a taste of the good life and get cleaned up? I mean seriously, water jets? Who's gonna hear the door opening over that?

Requirements: Pretty straight forward I think, rocker chick gets caught by owner(totally up to you on particulars) and go from there...

Character pics: I have several pics to choose from.
-----------------------------------------------------

Name: Daddy dearest
Setting:Modern, somewhere city-like.

Story: A woman who has grown up without a father (Late teens to early twenties) manages to track her father down through research and private investigators. He had her when he was young and so is only in his late thirties to late forties when she finds him. She decides on getting to know her father before revealing who she is to him. She wasn't however counting on the attraction that grew between them. Without knowledge of who she is or even aware of the fact he has a daughter her father begins to find the girl alluring. Things escalate into uncharted territory the longer she withholds the true nature of their relationship.

Requirements: I see this possibly going several ways, her father makes the first move on her and she simply doesn't tell him. Afterwards the guilt forces her to reveal the true nature of their relationship. Or she could potentially reveal it ahead of time and still things escalated between them. I'd be interested in exploring the altering of their relationship afterwards.

Character pics: I haven't got any pics yet but I think it would be best to decide with my partner.


-----------------------------------------------------

Name: An honest mistake

Pairing: M/f, consensual most likely

Setting:Modern, somewhere city-like.

Story: I'd be open to most interpretations on the following situation, guy mistakes girl for a guy, I'm thinking more androgynous than masculine. I have a few ideas on how to approach this, if interested please pm with ideas or inquire with your own idea. Thanks

Requirements: I'm open to any suggestions and totally flexible on kinks, I just ask for fairly regular posting, solid details and more than a few sentences, ad least at first. I realize posts need to be adjusted to the scene and will vary in length.

Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Alice, more frequently Al. ad least to her friends and coworkers, had been working in the heavily male field of tech support for close to five years. I was an environment where Alice’s toned, curve spare build, along with her height, 5’ 9’, had allowed her to blend in seamlessly into the male monotony at the office. Her fine etched but androgynous features, set beneath crown of short blond hair, had always made her more uniquely suited to male company and dominated free times. It wasn’t infrequent that she was taken for a pretty man. In fact, she was pretty sure ad least half of the men in her office were still guessing which way she ran in the bedroom. And probably a fair share were still under the impression ‘Al’ was a man. For most woman this wouldn’t be ideal but for twenty six year old, this is just something she’d had to get used to. All her friends were men, and she wasn’t one to let what others said get to her.

Feeling bold on this particular Friday, and just off work. Alice looked both ways on the busy street before she crossed, heading into “Mayday’. The low key, working stiff bar which was located conveniently across from the building where she worked. Still in work clothes, a pair of loose jeans, worn over her thick soled black motorcycle boots, and clean white button up shirt, polished off her business casual attire. She often bought clothes a size too big for ease and comfort. ‘Just a quick drink to celebrate the weekend’, so she told herself as she took her usual sear at the small bar. The lanky blond in loose fitting jeans, ordered herself a whisky to nurse. In the moody lighting she appeared a totally unremarkable man, getting a drink after work.

----------------------------------------
Name: "Haven't you ever seen a woman before?"

Content:Basically I've always wanted to do one of these. In a world where the female population was wiped off the face of the earth, a woman manages to cross the veil between parallel earths. Coming from a place much like our own to appear to a man, randomly in his living room. He's of coarse blown away, having only seen women when he was child. She is effectively the last woman on the planet.

Setting: Any big city.

Requirements: Prompt, fairly regular posts. It doesn't have to be everyday by any means. Please don't write first person. Be descriptive but not overly long in your posts. Attempt to add your own twists to the plot, I mean, I know what I'm thinking but what you are thinking would be a nice surprise.

Other: Basically she can't really draw attention but she desperately wants to explore this world, I imagine her as a scientist of some kind. But of coarse she can't cause its literally a world full of sex starved men. Though she could get out occasionally, for ya know 'research'. I have an opening for this.

Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

It was only Rowan's second year at M.I.T., a theoretical physics major. To say she felt under appreciated would have been a gross understatement. Before college Rowan had won multiply junior science and mathematics awards, she was valedictorian of her high school and had comfortably been able to say she was the smartest person she knew. Now that she was in college with other like minded young minds, she was one nerdy girl in an ocean of brainiacs. Rowan had never been popular, partially because she kept herself thoroughly immersed in her scholastic endeavors. And partially, perhaps largely in part because she was a bit stuck up about her intelligence and tended to speak brashly, without regard for the feelings of others. And she certainly had no love life to speak of, her peers in the science community were largely a- sexual gnome like creatures without the slightest inkling of how to approach a women. Rowan had endeavored to meet someone outside of the maths and sciences, at clubs and parties but somehow her personality always shown through. Even with her good looks, she was simply too intimidating to most men who could easily move on to simpler girl more at their own level. But she had her intellectual prowess and the spotlight, up until recently, that had been enough. She would get it back, the glow of recognition would surely follow her bold attempt at greatness

Rowan's phone went off at midnight, buzzing on her nightstand. She groaned, a very un-lady like grumble of discontent. She reached across and turned her phone off, picking up her thin black wire rimmed glasses. Roman sat up and tucked the glasses over her dainty nose, blinking her hazel eyes a few times in an attempt to wake up. With a yawn she stretched her pale slender arms above her head, in a languid stretch. Swinging her long, bare legs over the edge of the bed and rising to stand beside her bed. She'd slept in her black bra, snug around her firm rounded breasts. Each cup lined with a frill of black lace, and the matching pair of panties. Black lace, low on her feminine hips and a tad snug around her pert backside. She squirmed and wiggled, shimmying her shapely legs into the tight pair of cigarette jeans. Fastening the snug jet black jeans around her hips, fastening the small silver button closure. Out of her clothes hamper beside her bed she pulls out a plain white t shirt. It fit snuggly over her breasts and left a few inches of taunt stomach between the waist of the pants and the hem of the cotton shirt. She grabs her crummy grey sweatshirt and casually drags her fingers through her thick, orange hair. Dispersing some of the bed head and coaxing her fringed bangs from her face.

With her back pack, containing her composition books of personal notes and equations, slung over her shoulder Rowan headed out of dorm. She ran across the the empty quad, the lamps were lit along her path to the science research building. As she is only a sophomore and not a doctorate student, she isn't entitled access to the sleek and modern, three level steel building. The front door, reinforced glass and steel, is opened with a key card passing over the electronic inscription pad. Rowan swipes her stolen, or rather 'borrowed', card and the door opens. Allowing her inside. She heads to the second level, where the doctorates were working under a government grant on the key to proving the existence of more than one reality. At the university pub she'd gotten into a heated debate with a doctorate student, who in his inebriation had mentioned the secret project and that they were having trouble proving their theorem.  Rowan had spent the next few weeks working out the equations in four different composition books, until yesterday she'd had a break through. Sure she could have just told someone, let the people actually working on the project take the credit. But that just wouldn't do. So she'd stolen a key and now she would prove her work.

On the second level, right off the elevator there is a sterilization room. Swiftly Rowan tugs her shirt off over her head and pulled her composition book from her bag. Leaving her shirt and her backpack in the cubby off to the side of the elevator. She walked into the clear plastic stall. Wedged between the elevator and the research room. The idea is to keep as few contaminants out as possible, a thin vapor like spray comes in around her on all sides. Coating her body and killing any foreign bacteria, dispersing with stray skin cells. The door on the other side of the stall opens and allows her through, she grabs a lab coat from the hook just inside the lab. Rowan pulled on the lab coat over her black bra and bare stomach, leaving it open while rolling up the white cotton sleeves. The lab is relatively small, being that it is supposed to only house the final project. A large white tower of electronics sits in the middle of the room, flanked by a small pedestal which looks to house a remote of some kind. Rowan walked up to tower, her comp book in hand and sterile from the sterile spray.

Rowan opened her book to the page containing the correct theorem and sat down at the computer beside the electronics tower. After a brief look through the requisite theorems and equations, she found herself somewhat misinformed. The team working on this project had set it up to do more than theoretically prove their theory.They were trying to literally prove it, by transporting a person between dimensions. This was even better, quickly Rowan began to type in her adjustments  The computer apparently ran on some sort of practical and explorative program that went to the tower. Then through the tower to the remote, transporting anything within a foot of it. When she had finished her reinterpretations of the equations, she hit send. The electronic tower buzzed and the remote lit up, the clear plastic turning to a bright green. Rowan tore a piece of paper from her composition book and crumpled it in her hand. Walking over to the remote on the pedestal, she set the piece of paper beside it. Everything was ready, when she'd hit send the camera overhead automatically started recording.  She pressed the start button and stepped back.

The remote beeped three times, still lit up a ripe green shade but nothing happened. Out of frustration Rowan approached, her lab coat gaping open and showing her taunt stomach and black bra. She picked up the remote and slapped it on her jean covered thigh, not exactly a calculated response to failure. Again she hit it on the edge of the podium shaking it, until it turned red and suddenly she found herself falling. She fell what felt like four or five feet, landing with a hard thud on the floor. It wasn't the sterile white floor of the research room however. And as she lay there, staring at the ceiling. She realized it wasn't the sterile white ceiling either. It seemed to be, as she sat up on her elbow and her other hand grazes the bump on the back of her head. Someone's living room? She turned to look towards the couch and the first notion that she had succeeded struck her. As her eyes fell on the remote, in two pieces laying on the floor. Wires and small bits of silicon chips everywhere, strewn across the carpet.

Slowly Rowan got to her feet. Her back ached, as she stretched her arms above her head. Doing a small spin in place to view the entire room. This could be in fact another dimension, one with only a slight differentiation from her own. The sound of water tickled her ears and vaguely she was aware of another presence. Whoever's house this was, they were taking a shower. Idly she wondered if they'd heard her yell or the thud when she hit the floor. Dumb as it was, maybe it was a lizard man or woman. Carefully she swoops down, picking up the scrapes of her device and the requisite two halves. Stuffing them in the pocket of her lab coat, which she carefully buttons to cover her mostly naked torso. The fear hasn't set in yet, the excitement is dizzying as she searches around her for some small but meaningful sign that this world is in another dimension.

I know its long but the posts don't need to be that long, seriously.

-------------------------------------------------------------

I'm pretty much always up for a western themed role play.

[crosswordaholic]

Opening that didn't get off the ground
Title: Good girl
Plot: Post apocalyptic world where women are animals...Check out the opening... It can be tweaked. My former writing style was too long, I'll be shorter now.
Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Seattle, Washington
Year 2044
30 years since the 'Turning'


Its been 30 years since the 'Turning' the popularized name for the cataclysmic, unprecedented occurrence of 2014. All the human women on the planet, young and old changed for ever, premenently into humanoid beasts. Dogs, cats rabbits all of them into animals. Feral and devoid of their humanity. Leaving the male population reeling in the aftermath of this transformative event. Romance is all but dead after the 'Turning', women are feral creatures kept under lock and key used for pleasure and breeding by the now dominate male humans. Slowly civilization continues, people die and baby's are born. Curiously male babies continue to be born human and females born animals human hybrids.

This new generation of females is more docile, like a breed of kittens and puppies bred from lions and wolves. They are often more comely and human than their predecessors, baring shorter claws and more demure teeth. Directly following the 'Turning' a good deal of female population was put down by male military forces, deemed too wild and dangerous. As a result the females available for breedings was outnumbered by the closing of the conflict, 5 to 1. The percent of these feral females who produced offspring, bearing some levity of humanity is even fewer. About 20 men to every one of this new generation of docile, female animal off shoots. So they are more of a prized commodity, like designer pets and usually reserved for the well off. In some rare instances a sort of control over the percentage of human to animal in their appearance, appears in the new generation of females. Able to manipulate their physical appearance, in very small degrees.

Lux was born well after the 'Turning', she was never human and well acclimated to her body. Lux's mother had been married during before the 'Turning' and maintained some of her humanity though it. So her parents stayed together as normal as possible, they lived in a farm out in the country away from the chaos that followed the 'Turning'. Lux's mother's appearance was that of panther, stretched out and gaunt on two feet. With little human resemblance all all, except for her hands. Lux found that at a young age she could manipulate her body at will and change from her cat humanoid form to that a normal, slender black house cat. Lux was slender and shapely, 5 foot 6 and could have been a pre-'Turning' model with her supple proportions at the tender age of 19. Save for the fact she had a dainty snout, her ethereal face and body was covered in short velvet like, black fur. Her ears are two small peaks of black fur on her head, she has her fathers hair a messy head of long dark crimson wisps on the crown of her head and fading into the black fur of her face and neck.

When her parents died she went into the city despite their warning and found her father had been right, to stay away from men. She'd always held a healthy fear of men, so she seldom went out on the town in her true form. Free, generation XX as they were called, were rare and often prostitutes. So she explored the city on four feet instead of two, save for the occasional freak out over a black cat crossing their path, Lux was barely noticed. She had herself registered and she wore a simple gold collar, from the small gold hoop hung a simple red, star shaped, gem stone with the name Lux and her registration number on the back. No address, as they would find her apartment empty save for a bed and a few Alphonse Mucha posters.

It was raining today in the city, no shock there really. Lux had slipped down the fire escape of her building and was padding her way, weaving through peoples legs, down the street. She was gonna go for a walk in the park, maybe hang out outside her favorite sushi place till they threw out some tuna after the lunch rush. She stopped at the light a few blocks away, looking both ways of coarse, she began across the street. The blinding white light caught her off guard and she stopped, turning just into time to move out of the direct line of a speeding car. Her small, 8 pound body hit the left fender and she bounced off the car like a rag doll. She hit the concrete twice, almost skipping across to the next lane. There was a piercing pain in her right paw when she landed with a splash in a puddle, draining into a gutter. She mewed softly and tried to lift her body, a pain shot up her right paw. It not broken but battered and she fell back into the concrete.  She wondered as she lay there, what would get her first. Would she be hit by another car? Would the torrential rain water wash her body into the gutter on the other side of the street. 'It would be a better death than being hit by a car' she mused weakly to herself, laying on her side in the street.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: Youthful Ambition
Plot: Successful 30 something divorce gets stranded on the roadside when a young man shows up to help her get to her remote chateau, lonely she decides to take advantage of what she assumes is just some dumb hunk of blue collar hunk... Twist?
Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

It was somewhere around nine at night, Noelle wasn't exactly sure of the time because tonight she hadn't left work at her usual time. The extra hours she'd devoted to taking inventory of the her gallery's collections, after all the party guests had gone home. Tonight had been the debut of a new artist in her gallery, abstract rubbish in her opinion but the modern art sold like Piccaso's. She hadn't voiced her opinion at the party, it was her job, after all, to hype on the positive qualities of the art in her gallery. Her efforts tonight had been rewarded with several thousand dollars worth in sales, a small fortune in 'art' sold to a private collector. Not bad for a nights worth of work, perusing and hobnobbing in four black platform heels, in a tiny red silk designer dress. The wide arm holes of mini dress showed that extra spoonful of flesh, hinting at the curve of her pert braless breast, sexy without being unseemly. The party had been, by all accounts, a complete success. A consortium of the wealthy mixed in with self proclaimed 'bohemians', had flooded her small down town space for her showing. It was several hours of mingling, over foreign cheeses and fine wine at her expense, to coax a few choice wealthy patrons to shell out unseemly amount of money for a bent bit of steel with a clever name.

For all her success she wasn't happy as she drove, not even truly eager to get home to her empty house on the hill, a modernest chateau nestled in the Pacific northwestern wilderness. For all the fine accouterments she'd acquired for herself by the age of thirty five, she was going home to an empty house. It hadn't always been like this, she mused bitterly to herself as she drove, turning off the main drag to begin her ascent up the hill, she was still technically a married woman. As the city disappeared into the distance she squinted into the darkness, the bright street lights fading behind her. She'd done everything she was supposed to, she'd gotten married right out of college to a wealthy older man and settled into a prosperous career. Anxiously she chewed on the ripe painted crimson curve of her bottom lip, this drive never seemed to get easier, not in all the years she'd live in this house with her husband. Everything had been picture perfect up to a few weeks ago, she hadn't even had the inclination anything was wrong, until her husband announced he wanted a divorce to marry his twenty two year old secretary.

She sighed at the thought of her soon to be ex, Markus, and his 'new' model wife, as she adjusted the rear view mirror to catch a brief glance at her face. She was still attractive, still young, she just needed to remind herself. Looking in the mirror she noted her smoky brown eyes, expressive and rimmed with her thick, dark, lashes. She noted the beginnings of laugh lines at the corners of her pouty red lips and subsequently averted her gaze, with a grimace, back to the winding road. She was perhaps ten minutes away when her car, a porsche Panamera 2011, began to make some rather disturbing mechanical, metal on metal, noises. It would be, she thought resentfully as she was forced to pull onto the side of the road, Markus's car that broke down on her, the irony of the situation was almost laughable. Almost. She drew her fingers through the reddish brown locks of her shoulder length hair, as she slipped her long bare legs out of the car, the engine cautiously turned off.   Her dark hair appeared red in the glow of her blinking emergency lights, petite even on her tall heels, as she approached the engine.

It was a struggle for her to get the hood up, she was slight of stature of and form, jumping up and down comically on the side of the road, attempting to get the hood to lock into place. The engine seemed to be steaming, even to a novice such as herself, it was obvious she wouldn't be driving it again any time soon. As the off white smoke dissipated she attempted to gain a better vantage at the damage done to her engine. She bent at the waist, the shiny red fabric of her dress riding up around her pert, palates' firmed ass. The line of her shapely legs extended as she leaned over her engine, down to her tall black heels, one leg bent up in the air, swaying behind her in the air as she gazed spitefully down at her temperamental engine. Going for her phone would have been an act in futility, the signal on this road was non-existent. At worst, if it wasn't something small she could fix on the spot, she'd attempt to walk the rest of the way. Not something she felt particularly inclined to do, in her tiny silk dress and inordinately expensive platform heels.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

In retrospect perhaps she shouldn't have gone to the unveiling, a party for the new showcase artist in her gallery. It was meant to be a mingling of artistic minds and unseemly wealthy patrons, over a banquet of decadent hors d'oeuvres and champagne. She normally loved these kinds of parties, she'd been the one financing it and it was her gallery, so why wasn't she in a better mood? Diana reflected on the night, it had been pleasant enough, except that she'd had to drive herself because her husband was…Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, her small hands forming white knuckled fists, as she turned along the winding road up to her house, located on the outskirts of town. The road flaked by woods. It had been a real estate investment early on in her marriage, somewhere ideal to start a big family with plenty of bedrooms and close enough to the city to for commute to work. Now it was more like hermitage, she was all alone in her big house with nothing to look forward to at the end of this drive, this wasn't how she'd seen things working out at the age of thirty five. Ad least, she told herself, she didn't have a cat.

Her career consumed most of her thoughts on any given day but as her sea green eyes darted up from beneath her golden lashes, to watch the nighttime city scape disappearing into the distance in her rear view mirror, she began to relax. She exhaled slowly, as if she'd been holding it all day, as her mind finally began to unwind from the stress of work, only to quickly refocus itself on the stress of her impending divorce. Her husband Lucas had been her first and only real love, they'd been college sweethearts and gotten married young, too young if she was to be perfectly honest with herself. They'd become different people as they got older, she'd wanted to start a family and he'd wanted to stave off middle age, by hiding between the legs of a twenty year old. She blew a, particularly annoying, wisp of silvery blond hair, her natural color, from her line of vision. Her up-do, a snug bun of fine spun golden tendrils, was coming loose after a full day of wear, loose wavy locks falling around her face. Partially obscuring the fine, dainty porcelain features of her face. When she turned, on one of the final bends, on the road to her home, her car, a silver Jetta, began to make peculiar metal on metal, sputtering noise.

Reluctantly she pulled off to the side of the road, it would break down now of all times, when she was so close to getting home, she could practically taste the red wine on her painted crimson lips. With an unladylike groan, she turned off the engine and slipped out of her car. Her light green pencil skirt was tight, perhaps too tight, hugging to the trim curves of her slight figure as she strode to the front of her car, quite confident on her platform nude heels. Getting the hood up took some effort, as it kept falling back, at a petite five foot three she had to jump to thrust it up hard enough to lock it in place. Her pert breasts bounced beneath the confines of her sleeveless white silk top, the shimmy fabric reflected the glow of her blinking emergency lights. For her efforts to get the hood up, jumping comically on her tall heels, she was rewarded with a face full of steam. Diana then found herself stumbling back, coughing and waving the smoke away from her face.

As the smoke dissipated, she reached into her pocket for her phone, somewhat reluctantly because she knew it wouldn't get service here. Just as she'd suspected, her cell glowing screen read 'no signal'. Her day couldn't get worse, she'd decided this would be her mantra as she inched closer to the vehicle and slowly bent over the engine. The length of her shapely legs was extended by her posture and one knee bent, as she kicked up her heeled foot in a dainty feet of balance, whilst searching for something obviously wrong with her engine. The steam of the engine had curled her hair on contact, her cheeks flushed pink from the warmth radiating off her engine, her steam curled tendrils of blonde fell in loose spirals in her line of vision as she searched for the problem.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Keeping it in the family
Plot: Everyone has a biological compulsion to breed and they must obey it, even if its father and daughter......(Could be brother and sister, whatever suits)
Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

It was in the year 2015, early in the twenty first century that the third world war was waged on the North american continent and in Europe. In the first war to be fought on american soil since the civil war, some 175 years prior, the devastation to the population came down to one in three and a death toll numbering in the millions by the end in of the war in 2018. The areas of greatest devastation, where even some 17 years after the war could still be seen in the devastation could still be seen,   metropolitan cities that were reduced to rubble. The interior of the country was spared from the harsher parts of the war, many survivors had moved away from the border cities and towns, in favor of the large untouched cities in the interior of the country. Chicago doubled in size as refugees flooded its ranks, survivors settled down to apply themselves to what was called ’The Biological imperative’, a government breeding program meant to cause another baby boom.

The biological imperative was made possible by a bracelet like device called simply a monitor, which was worn at all times by those who were of breeding age. The idea was simple, breed only the best and most desirable together, boost the population with an influx of genetically strong individuals. This seemingly impossible task was then made possible through the bracelet monitor, which would alert its owner when they came into contact with a desirable partner and of coarse there were also laws in place to ensure there was follow through. The laws to ensure, under penalty of death, that both individuals once paired would follow through and copulate, were astringent to say the least. In the 17 years which followed the Biological imperative,  the population steadily increased and life, for adverse citizens, went back to normal, as it had been before the war. Ad least thats what Faren had been taught, along with all the other post war kids, had happened and why she must never take her bracelet off.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

The bustling night life of post-war Chicago did not disappoint, underground clubs for teenagers abounded down town and Faren was hardly going to let a little thing like being grounded stop her from having a good time. The scene had been dark, save for the faint glow of bracelets, worn on every persons wrist, wall to wall teens rocking out to the band on stage. At seventeen she was no more than five three, a petite, white hot, blond with authority issues and a pair of bad ass steel toed boots. Her partying clothes, black booty shorts, a white crop top and denim over shirt, left little to the imagination, garnering her stares throughout the night. The outfit was meant to attract a certain class of guy, the reason she’d gone out, and attract them she did, specifically a 24 year old named Tom. It hadn’t taken much flirting on her part to bring Tom back with her, her father wasn’t supposed to get back till tomorrow so the apartment would be empty. Partially because the drinking she’d done at the club had made her horny and partially just to stick it to her dad, she’d taken the lanky 24 year old  straight to her fathers bedroom.

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Her parents had divorced when she was a baby, her mother remarried and so Faren rarely saw her biological father, they didn’t have a good relationship. Faren was in constant trouble at school, smoking and uncontrollable, all together too big of a problem for her mother, so for the last few days she’d been exiled to live with her father. Secure in the knowledge she wouldn’t be caught Faren had given herself almost completely to the older boy. They’re breath was coming in soft pants, they’re shirts long forgotten on the floor, as their lips crushed in hungry devouring kisses. The soft mews of excitement were already seeping from Faren’s red lips, as he for her, cupping the pink tipped globes of her breasts. Anxious for him she’d arched upwards, as he begun, in preparation for having her, to grind his jean covered arousal into the crotch of her shorts, driving Faren nearly over the edge with lust. Her father, just about the furthest thing from her mind, as she grew wet beneath the relative stranger.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Not Just another stowaway
Plot: Synthetic climbs aboard a spaceship, just a Sci-Fi futurist update of the hitchhiker or stowaway fetish. Seemed fun.
Opening:

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Olivia’s fear had been no less real, as she’d hid in the cargo hold of the ship, avoiding discovery, even though she wasn’t technically a real person. Both technically and according to the law, known simply by her model number 100987 on her home planet, she’d been a lowly member of the slave class just the day before. On the outside she was every bit the likeness of an 18 year old girl with the youthful physic of a dancer, her sloping curves toned beneath her fair skin. Her blond hair was cut close to her hair line, shaved in back with long bangs, cut on bias to accent her symmetrically designed features. Prior to yesterday she’d never have dreamed of stowing away on a space ship, bound for unknown and far away places. Since she’d picked the ship completely at random, the craft had been the only one leaving port the night before, when she’d arrived the ship terminal, looking for a way out. She hadn’t know where the ship had been headed in the past hours she’d been hiding onboard but she’d hoped it be somewhere better for ‘artificials’. Olivia had been desperate for a way off her planet, and out of her circumstances, so she’d hoped for the best, boarding the ship bound for where ever. Hidden amongst the cargo in the hold, avoiding detection by the ships owner, she’d hoped, after a day in the hold, that they’d been too far along for the ships owner to take her back.

She been wearing the same clothes she’d escaped in, a one piece white suit and a pair of heels. After a day or so in the hold, crouched between crates in her stars and stripes platform peep toe heels, she’d almost been relieved to hear the foot steps coming down the corridor. Olivia had escaped from the Daughters of Joy, a sub-sect of artificial humans for the sexual uses of those who could afford the exorbitant price. Faced with sexual servitude in a ‘common house’ in the red light district, she’d only been wearing a white one piece when she’d decided to escape and board a ship bound for anywhere else. Since most artificial humans didn’t question their servitude, to whatever sect they’d been bred or designated into, she’d had little trouble bluffing her new supervisor and climbing out her window. After she’d incapacitated a city accountant, her first client, with a vase to skull, and had climbed down the fire escape, there’d been no where for her to go except another planet. She just couldn’t be ok with her transfer, from she working on the internal city servers to servicing strangers, her above average intellect would not allow her to give in. 


“Don’t shoot or ’taz me, I can explain.”

When he’d come around the corner she’d crouched down, lower behind the crate, but he’d seen her, as he’d come around the corner of the crate, her eyes met his. She’d been in the middle of putting her hands up, to show him she’d not been armed, as she’d spoken, not that she’d really been able to hide anything. Her silvery one piece left little to the imagination, it hugged to her slender body like a second skin as she’d moved out of her hiding place, her tall heels clicking faintly on the floor. Faintly she stumbled just as she’d come to stand a few feet in front of the person inside the suit. Aside from her tattoos, which had been forbidden by law to ‘artificials’, she’d have seemed human, aside from one telling tattoo, the series of numbers 100987 accompanied by a bar code, which when scanned, would bring up her bio and warrant.