The Hard Way (fu/fu, m/fu, fu/m, oral, anal, sci-fi, shota)

Story by Kuroshio

The Hard Way

(futa on futa, male on futa, futa on male, oral, anal, rough sex, interracial, sci-fi, straight shota)

The last of my contest potentials. I think I'm least happy with this one because the plot was eating up wordcount like crazy and I didn't know how to get it under control while still touching on all the "winning" fetishes. But that being said, I don't think it is bad or else I wouldn't release it here. So I hope you guys enjoy.

There are always two ways of doing a thing: the easy way and the hard way.

Some wiseasses like to say there is a third – the right way – but I’ve always thought that was bullshit. If you’re doing something wrong, you’re really not doing it, now are you? The only question is how much you sweat and bleed for the success. Sometimes the hard way is right, sometimes the easy way is right. But those are the only two choices you get.

So choose wisely.

Now, if you ask me, they made the wise choice with their policy regarding contested colonization. Instead of a slow-boat generation ship that takes centuries to reach a disputed piece of real estate – by which time it’s probably a self-sufficient world with defenses coming out of its ass – they sling out a fast-stack transport ship. A fast-stack transport is mostly unmanned; it doesn’t have squishies (“people” as you probably know them) onboard when it burns outbound.

Instead, the entire squishy crew is birthed, raised and trained by AI-control as the fast-stack finishes braking. By time the ship hits orbit, it’s got a full ship’s company, all the necessary support infrastructure and five complete combat regiments: locked, stocked and ready to rock the block. The transport bombards anything substantial on the surface and once the troops hit dirtside, we strip any resistance off. Then they de-orbit the ship to break it up into a shake-and-bake colony town, the squishies become the new colonists and they have a new possession. They’re looking at mere decades between identifying potential Gaia worlds and having a seed colony in place; minimal fuss, no muss.

Naturally, this kind of deal isn’t something everyone can agree upon. Particularly since once a fast-stack transport is on its way, there is no recall button and damned sure not a self-destruct either. It’s committed to fight, one way or the other, and the only thing that could stop the process is for one of its own colonies to beat it to the punch.

But buddy, good luck outrunning a fast-stack transport with anything in the known universe. As much as the bleeding hearts might dislike it, colonization is a race where second (or third) place sometimes wins. You’re not trying to get there first, but be the last man standing. That’s the easy way.

Of course, I’m just a bit biased. I wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for a fast-stack transport giving me life, nurturing me in a crèche, teaching me in a classroom and training me in the simulations. I’m human, but not in the same sense homo sapiens are human. I’ve been enhanced up and down – physically, mentally, and emotionally – built to be as much a shock troop as a settler. And much as the pacifists don’t want me to exist, I do, far outside their reach and currently only a few days from sliding into orbit on a nice, temperate, 0.96 gravity world. A world they’ll show up on in another few hundred years to boost the population, politely ignoring the circumstances of acquisition until they are comfortably established, at which point they’ll then bemoan the “superfluous barbarity” of their origins while enjoy it’s fruits.

Fuck those hypocrites. I’m proud of who I am and what I do. I was born a pod-grown orphan, but I’ll be damned if that’s the way I’ll die. I’m six foot four and hung to the floor, made of nothing but twisted steel and sex appeal, an expert in scrubbing decks and snapping necks. I’ve got wide hips and luscious lips; calloused mitts and big-ass tits. I’m a fighter and a lover; a father and a mother. I’m a bona-fide, born-again, true-blue shock troop and that fact gives me more pleasure than anything you care to imagine.

And right now, I’ve got a drop to prepare for.

***

I was just running my last two pieces of gear back from being refurbished, impatiently pounding on my troop bay’s ‘open’ button using my elbow. There were sounds coming from the other side, but I didn’t pay much attention – there are always sounds on a ship – so imagine my surprise when it finally opened with a hiss and I stumbled right into an orgy. I mean that literally: my foot caught on someone’s thigh, sending me stumbling across the passageway. Apparently, the main access to a shipboard space is a great location for public fucking, who knew?

Fortunately, I didn’t fall to the deck or drop the delicate equipment in my hands, so once I’d collected myself the full extent of my ire was a stiff kick to the offending leg and some pointed advice to take

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