Payment (Scootaloo and Anon) (by ScootAnon)


                                            >It's about 450 years into the future. An unknown apocalypse destroyed the world below.

                                            >Society's since collapsed and built itself back up, culminating in a mix of technology and industrial sleuth in the form of flying sky-cities.

                                            >At least, that's what the crazy guy near your house screams every morning.

                                            >Anyway, you're on your way to work on the Summit Island Ship when your hover-pack gives out mid-flight.

                                            >You had just enough juice to land on the port side of the city.

                                            >A good five miles shy of where you needed to go.

                                            >With at least fifty miles of straight sky beneath you leading to a polluted wasteland at the very bottom.

                                            >Golly, what a way to go that'd be.

                                            >You find yourself in the Red Gears District.

                                            >It's like the Red Light District by the stern, but here were some of the best damn mechanics, hunters, and doctors this side of Serena.

                                            >No doctorates, no licenses, no problem.

                                            >They were the gears that kept society turning.

                                            >They just had a unique kind of payment...

                                            >You shudder at the thought, but you venture into the district hoping to find someone who knows how to tinker with flying machinery.

                                            >Sure enough, you find a young boy in the middle of working on a small hover-bike in a small mechanic-esque kiosk, aptly named "Scoot's Flying Fixtures".

                                            >Knowing how things work around here, you feel your heart sink for this poor boy and you ultimately grow nervous.

                                            >But all the other stalls are full and you have an hour before work, so you approach the young lad regardless.

                                            >Surely, you can spare some extra goldings instead...

                                            >The young boy, which you assume his name is Scoot, pulls himself out from underneath the hover-bike and wipes off his face—which only gets it dirtier with what you guess is oil.

                                            >He's shirtless and drenched in sweat and oil.

                                            >His eyes fall on your sudden appearance and he jumps in place.

                                            >"Chrysler Fuck!" he shouts in an almost girlish tone.

                                            >You jump back yourself out of surprise and feel a hint at guilt of showing up unannounced.

                                            "U-Uh, great sorries, ki... sir. But are by chance you open for business?"

                                            >After Scoot got up and collected himself, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face off better.

                                            >It was smeared on his face now, but you hardly noticed.

                                            >"Maybe perhaps..." he said, looking you up and down. "Give me a time to see this work."

                                            >He tilts his head in the direction of the bike and you nod understandably, letting him do his thing for a couple more minutes.

                                            >You watch him bring the bike back to life with a deep roar. It hovers and gives off a delicate hum that sounds to be in tip-top shape.

                                            >At least, you think. You're no expert, you just use whatever works these days.

                                            >Scoot places the bike in a small stall next to his kiosk that says "Ready For Go!" and returns over to you.

                                            >"So, whatcha need for help?"

                                            >You show him your busted hover-pack and he takes a few moments to inspect its ins and outs.


                                            >"Ahh, nah. Blaster Chamber just needs some fixin'," he answers matter-of-factly. "I can kill it in twenty minutes!"

                                            "Real? That would be amazing."

                                            >Then the sinking feeling returns...

                                            "So... how do I pay...?"

                                            >Scoot tilts his head.

                                            >"Whatcha meaning...?"

                                            >It takes a moment for the question to kick into his head.

                                            >Then he just... giggles...?

                                            >"New to the Red Gears?"

                                            >You just sheepishly nod.

                                            >Scoot just giggles again, wiping his forehead and smearing the oil more on his face inadvertently.

                                            >"Well, you're steaming, so tell you a guess: Let me do a little suckle, and all you need to do is milk my face, clear?"

                                            >Your face heats up immediately.

                                            >Not because of the offer, necessarily—in any other case, it would be too much... but maybe if it came down to it, you wouldn't mind.

                                            >But this was a child!

                                            "That doesn't seem... right..."

                                            >Scoot just rolls his eyes.

                                            >"Greatly new..." he mumbles to himself, but you can hear him.

                                            "What's your year?" you ask him.

                                            >"Just shying eleven."

                                            >So your hunch was right.

                                            >Laws in recent years regarding younglings has since eased due to population shortage.

                                            >But not everyone jumped onto the idea.

                                            >"D'you want your pack killed up or not?" Scoot asks you, hand on his hip.

                                            >He isn't necessarily annoyed, but you do know you're holding up his business.

                                            "Are you sure you don't need goldings...?" you ask him.

                                            >Scoot only shakes his head and waves it off.

                                            >"Nah, I'm solid on money. I like fixin' stuffs. On the sides, I like having fun with dealers. A girl like me's needs needing too so this place hits!"

                                            >Wait... girl...?

                                            >So... she's...

                                            >You stand silently before the topless girl.

                                            >She waits oddly patiently now for your answer.

                                            "I..."

                                            >"C'mon, guy," she says. "I'm the best fixer around here. I won't chop. Promise."

                                            >She's insistent—and it makes sense now with what she just told you a few seconds ago.

                                            >Good on money.

                                            >Likes to do this with customers and fix their broken things.

                                            >How can a girl her age have "needs" like this...?

                                            >Who did this to her?

                                            >Were you really considering this...?

                                            >You check the time on you watch.

                                            >It's past the eighth hour.

                                            >You had just under an hour.

                                            >This job was all you had left now.

                                            "... Okay."

                                            >"Awesome, let's ready it!" she says excitedly.

                                            >Before you can even take a step forward, Scoot's already on her knees and fumbling with your pants.

                                            "Wo-wo-wo-wo-" you say, trying to stop her.

                                            >She looks up at you, hands on the zipper.

                                            >"What?"

                                            >You look up at the other people strolling around the street.

                                            >Nobody's paying attention to you. They're going about their business.

                                            >You see a man and a woman going at it a couple kiosks away, and nobody pays them any mind.

                                            >"Ohhh," Scoot says with a smirk, "don't like eyes seeing you, huh?"

                                            "... Yeah..."

                                            >It was one way of putting it.

                                            >"C'mon, in my house," Scoot says as she gets up on her knees and proceeds to the back of the kiosk.

                                            >You follow her behind a set of curtains and into a small metallic pod.


                                            >Despite its small size, it's admittedly a little cozy, and is clearly donned with all the amenities of the average home on Serena:

                                            >Kitchen, toilet, bath, and a bed.

                                            >There's even a television with some movies on the shelf.

                                            >Some of the movies are ones from before the Great Event!

                                            >"Like it?" she asks as she catches you gawking at her house. "It's cramping, but there's home here for me. Look at here."

                                            >She hops down into a small cubby-like room underneath the floor and you duck down inside with her.

                                            >The ceiling just barely reaches the top of her head, but you're able to rest your arms on the floor above.

                                            >The room itself consists of a small reclining chair and a series of computer screens that all seem to connect to the security cameras along the hull of the city.

                                            >Like one big window looking out into the abyss below. It's honestly a bit unnerving.

                                            >But Scoot seems unfazed by it.

                                            >"I love seating down here just to look outside," she tells you with a grin. "Makes me imagine flying."

                                            >You can see why she'd think that...

                                            >"So, ready for going?" she asks you, and you immediately remember why you're here in the first place.

                                            "Uh... sure," you say simply.

                                            >In reality, you're still incredibly unsure of going through with this.

                                            >But the kid was insistent on doing things her way.

                                            >And you really need to keep your job.

                                            >"Awesome! Stand there, comfort your head. I'll do the work!"

                                            >You decide to do as she says and stand in place, using the floor above you as a place to rest your upper body.

                                            >You decide not to look—but you can feel and hear Scoot get up from her chair and kneel down in front of you.

                                            >You can feel her undo your pants.

                                            >And you can just hear her surprise.

                                            >"Whoa... your dicker's huge, man!"

                                            >You can't help it.

                                            >You look down and see the sheer shock on Scoot's face as she sees the sheer size of your shaft.

                                            >From your perspective, it didn't seem all that special—you were no bigger than the average male onboard.

                                            >Scoot, on the other hand, treated it like it could tear her in half.

                                            >You leaned forward just barely, and felt your tip rub against her lips.

                                            >They were so soft.

                                            >Scoot snickered.

                                            >"Too readying, huh?"

                                            "Sorries..."

                                            >She smiled.

                                            >"All good. Readied?"

                                            >You breathe deeply and nod.

                                            >But you can't help but watch in morbid anticipation.

                                            >It's just payment...

                                            >It's just payment...

                                            >It's just pa—

                                            >You watch your cock vanish into her mouth.

                                            >You shudder and grip the air around you, struggling to watch her.

                                            >Her throat takes you in with no problem; her lips manage to reach the base.

                                            >Scoot gags for a split second before pulling away, leaving your cock drenched in her spit.

                                            >She spends a few seconds with the tip in her mouth, and you can feel her tongue lapping away at it.

                                            >Being sensitive as it was, you grab a clump of your hair in your hand and breathe through your nose.

                                            >It does nothing to calm you down.

                                            >And maybe that was her plan.

                                            >Without wasting another second—Scoot starts sucking you.


                                            >She bobs back and forth with no resistance whatsoever, moaning and slurping with every push and pull on your shaft.

                                            >Her hand jerks you in time with her movements.

                                            >The feeling is immeasurable.

                                            >Immaculate.

                                            >Savory beyond all repair.

                                            >You wonder how many times she's done this...

                                            >There's a bit of guilt that floods back into your mind.

                                            >But it disappears when you feel Scoot run her tongue all the way from the base to the tip, and back into her mouth you went.

                                            >You find yourself cycling between looking down at her and finding something to lay your eyes on.

                                            >Just forward of you, you see her bed with a photo frame by the side.

                                            >It's of her when she was younger, next to two other figures.

                                            >Probably her parents.

                                            >The photo looked only a few years old.

                                            >You wonder where they were now...

                                            >She looked so happy...

                                            >You look back down to the same girl that's now fellating you.

                                            >She pulls her mouth off your cock and slaps it lazily against her cheek, giggling joyfully as she did.

                                            >A faint print of your cock sits on her face, smudged by the oil stains.

                                            >The sight should make you sad... and deep down, it does.

                                            >But you can't help but feel so turned on by the sight.

                                            >Maybe you really were no different from everyone else...

                                            >Before you could get lost in your own head, Scoot buries you back into her throat and continues bobbing back and forth.

                                            >It isn't long before feel your loins begin to burn.

                                            >You reach one hand down on Scoot's head.

                                            >She looks up at you, and your eyes meet.

                                            >Hers twinkled with this hint of innocent, muddied by a yearn for rebellion.

                                            >You almost forgot what you wanted to say.

                                            >But you didn't even get the chance to say it before she popped her mouth off again.

                                            >"Rising?" she asked you with a grin, continuing to jerk you off.

                                            >You clear your throat and nod.

                                            >It was hard to look away now.

                                            >You wanted to see this.

                                            >Scoot giggled.

                                            >"Learned it."

                                            >Scoot rested one hand on your hip, while the other furiously began to pump your cock back and forth.

                                            >It was hard to breathe right, and you found yourself caressing her head with your hand.

                                            >All the while, she just looked up at you with this innocent and childish smile.

                                            >It was the greatest contrast from her actions.

                                            >"C'mon... milk me..."

                                            >From her words.

                                            >You had no chance.

                                            "C-Chrysler Fuck..."

                                            >Without warning, your tip erupted, and a thick jet of white shot out and struck Scoot in the face, landing on her cheek all the way to her forehead.

                                            >Then another came roaring out.

                                            >Then another, and another, and another.

                                            >You painted her face, just as she asked for.

                                            >She opened her mouth, and after only a couple ropes, her mouth was full.

                                            >She swallowed and opened again. Then she swallowed and opened again, until you could barely fill her mouth anymore.

                                            >Finally, she stopped jerking you off.

                                            >After several moments, it was over, and you almost fell to your knees with how weak you were.


                                            >It was only when you sat down on the ladder behind you that you really got to see Scoot at face level.

                                            >Her face was absolutely plastered with cum, dripping down onto her topless chest and down her belly.

                                            >You managed to even shoot a few fresh loads on her budding breasts.

                                            >And Scoot just giggled at the entire thing.

                                            >"Chrysler Fuck, dude! You milked the hell out of me! When's the last time you got suckled?"

                                            "... A lot of moons..." was all you could say as you tried catching your breath.

                                            >"I learned that," Scoot said with a smirk as she sat there on her knees.

                                            >She looked over to the nearby mirror and saw just how much you covered her.

                                            "Sheesh. I should've quest'd you to rail me 'stead. Maybe next stop by, huh?"

                                            >... It was bad that you were considering that.

                                            >With a light grunt, Scoot got up on her feet and licked at the cum around her lips.

                                            >"Alright... give me twenty minutes and I'll make it fixed," she said, referring to your hover-pack. "For now, have some food! You'll need it to fly!"

                                            >All you could do was weakly nod.

                                            >Scoot climbed up the ladder and left the home to get to work.

                                            >You just sat there for another minute, just to catch your breath.

                                            >When you finally managed to compose yourself, you climbed up the ladder and sat on the floor.

                                            >You were honestly considering calling out for work after that.

                                            >But you knew better than to take such a risk.

                                            >After making yourself some toast—even though you already ate breakfast, that alone had you craving something—you shambled your way out the front door of Scoot's home and reentered the kiosk.

                                            >And just in time too, as you saw Scoot landing on her feet right in front of you, wearing your hover-pack.

                                            >"Woo! This thing can rush!" she exclaimed excitedly with a cute grin on her face. "Where'd you pay for it?"

                                            >But before you answered, something immediately caught your eye.

                                            >The cum still on her face and chest.

                                            >It was dry now, but it was obviously still visible.

                                            >You glanced around, waiting for somebody to ask why there was cum all over a topless little girl.

                                            >But nobody reacted.

                                            >Nobody even glanced in her direction.

                                            >Nobody cared...

                                            "Uh... Summit Island," you say after a moment.

                                            >Scoot doesn't seem to notice your hesitation; she's too busy looking over the hover-pack and beaming over her accomplishment in fixing it.

                                            >"Cool! I'll have to pay one for me too!"

                                            >She holds the hover-pack in her hands and holds it out to you.

                                            >"Here you are! Ready for go!" she says confidently.

                                            >With a little smile of your own, you grab the hover-pack from her and put it on.

                                            "Great thanks, Miss...?"

                                            >You already knew her name, at least some of it. But it was still better to ask.

                                            >"Scootaloo," she answers with her hands out in a shrug, "but people name me Scoot, so that's my life-name."

                                            >You give her a nod.

                                            "I'm Anonymous. Just name me Anon," you tell her with a smile.

                                            >You look back at the rest of the district. The smell of sex is in the air, but everyone continues to go about their day.


                                            >Unaware or uncaring of the two of you.

                                            "So... was our happening okay?"

                                            >Scootaloo rolls her eyes again, but otherwise nods and smiles.

                                            >"Yep! Most dealers mostly like to milk me, but most times I just get railed. Haven't been milked in a while, tho!"

                                            >That doesn't sit right with you, but...

                                            >"If you like it, you can pass by again!"

                                            >Was she... propositioning you?

                                            "... Are you sure?"

                                            >"Yeah! You're pretty steaming, can't lie. And I like making friends!"

                                            >You blush at the compliment.

                                            >But you ponder the idea of accepting her invitation.

                                            >Not out of disdain, but out of concern.

                                            >What would it mean? For you?

                                            >For her?

                                            "I'd like that."

                                            >... Guess you'll find out later.

                                            >You check the time on your watch again.

                                            >It's thirty minutes past eight.

                                            >If you're lucky, you'll get there with two minutes to spare!

                                            "Damn, gotta work! Great thanks again, Scootaloo!"

                                            >You start backpedaling from the kiosk, waving her goodbye as you turn on your hover-pack.

                                            >Scootaloo waves back at you.

                                            >"No problem! Pass by later night, Mister Anon!"

                                            >With a nod and a smile, you lifted off into the sky.

                                            >You waved goodbye until you couldn't see her anymore.

                                            >With another turn, you made way for Summit Island, which floated off miles away but seemingly so close.

                                            >The entire flight, all you thought about was Scootaloo's proposition.

                                            >It's been a few years since you had any form of intimacy. Your last partner walked out on you because you put too much time into your work.

                                            >But these days, slacking off just once would be enough to knock you down permanently.

                                            >Scootaloo, on the other hand, seems to have it in a proper balance—between her seeming passion for fixing broken gadgets to making her customers "milk" her, there didn't seem to be any sign of struggle or unhappiness.

                                            >The only problem for you was simply the fact that she was still young.

                                            >VERY young.

                                            >What kind of person would that make her in the long run?

                                            >What would it make you?

                                            >Guess you'll find out tonight.


                                            End...?