>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...?