Rey's No Good Really Bad Awful Week

Rey had known it was going to bad week by the simple fact that it was always a bad week on Jakku -- but emerging from a crippled hammerhead destroyer with a sack full of busted power couplers to find that three sand-scutters were sprinting towards a pair of speeders with at least two days worth of back breaking labor on their scrawny backs.

"Hey!" Rey shouted, dropping the couplers and sprinting -- her feet pounding across the rough, blaster and sand scarred hull plating that served as the ramp from the desert floor to the bridge of the long dead Republic starship. Her feet hit the sand and she felt the familiar shifting, swallowing motion beneath her feet, which made walking or running anywhere that wasn't trampled flat by hundreds of other people feel like running in a nightmare. But this nightmare was real: Every sprinting stride she took left her father behind the scutters, who had scrambled onto the speeder. They jabbered at one another in Huttese, and one actually turned back to give her a jaunty wave as the engines kicked on and the speeds shot away, throwing up a spray of white sand.

Rey growled as she hurled her junk staff like a spear. It landed in the sands about ten meters away, thumping down point first before slumping, defeated into the desert. She panted, slowly, as the sound of the speeders and the laughing scutters faded. She turned back and saw that the power couplers had also stopped moving: They had spilled down the destroyer, leaving their glass and electrical components smeared along the hull like stains of blood.

Rey picked one up and winced as only half of the coupler came off the ground -- the rest remained sitting in the desert. She looked down the jagged pipe at the snarled guts, and then scowled to herself.

She would not scream.

It wouldn't be dignified.

But she dearly wanted too.

The speeder ride back to Plutt's junkyard was spent with Rey's head ducked forward and her eyes narrowed behind her goggles. She craned herself left and right, taking every chance to skim along dunes rather than between them. It was a risk -- it left her more visible, and on Jakku, there was nothing to stop some low down crook from shooting someone off their bike. Often times, a bike was more valuable than even a slave. After all, a slave you need to feed and water. But soaring along the ridges of the dunes let her see if there was any scrap she had missed. But while there were distant, triangular mountains of metal -- ancient Imperial Star Destroyers, each one holding riches enough to make her wealthy beyond her wildest dreams -- all of them were false hope.

She didn't have the team of fifteen thousand engineers, nor the plasma cutters and gravity-manipulators and cargo ships it'd take to wring profit out of those hulks. And she definitely didn't have the three days it'd take to roam their guts for smaller salvage.

But maybe -- maybe she'd...

No.

She saw the junkyard far before she saw anything of value. Rey kicked out the stand to her speeder and slid off of the red bike. Her hand rested along the side, feeling the thrum of the machine. She started to remove the components that'd keep thieves from being able to simply steal it. Even so, she parked it where she'd be able to keep her eye on it while she waited for her chance to...turn in what she had and to hope. It was a grim, pathetic hope. But it was hope.

Her plan ran into a sang.

That snag was two and a half meters tall, nearly a meter wide, and made entirely out of fur and exquisite muscle. Thick, slab like muscle beneath thick, curly golden fur. Rey's eyes widened as she slowly traced the lines of those muscles in that bared back. She had never seen anything that radiated pure strength like this...wall that stood before her. Not even large ore haulers made her feel quite the same mixture of wary respect and faint awe. As she looked at the creature's chest, she heard a faint shifting sound -- the sound of feet on the sand -- and Rey forced herself to look up and saw that the creature had turned back and looked over his shoulder at her.

His face was broad, with a pair of thick, saber sharp tusks, and his eyes were black and filled with an intelligence that made Rey reconsider her first impression -- she had thought this might have been some beast of burden or something. No. No, that was foolish. He was wearing pants. With a tool belt. And a chest as muscular as his shoulders and back. He looked down at her, then grunted. "What are you looking at, girl?"

Rey lifted her chin. Never show weakness. Never. She looked him square in his eyes and said: "Just waiting to drop off my load."

The alien grunted.

He began to dicker with Plott. The bloated, fishy-like creature who had been the central axis that Rey's life had orbited for far, far, far too long started to dicker right back. Rey perked up her ear, but her head kept getting distracted by wondering about this furred beast. What had brought him to this particular spec of nowhere? ...was his fur soft. Was his voice really as deep as it sounded or...was it just his size that was misleading her. She shook her head, clenching her jaw -- and managed to actually hear: "You don't expect us to only take ten thousand credits?"

"I don't expect you to think you can squeeze blood from a stone," Plott said, his thick, gloppy voice sending Rey's hackles rising up. "If you think that you can extort money from me, you can leave. Thank you. Good day."

The furred wall snorted, then turned. As the immense alien walked past Rey, she heard him growling: "Fucking asshole."

She stepped forward as Plott turned to face her. He smirked that ugly little smirk that showed he knew that she had had a bad day. She set down what little bits hadn't been stolen, opening up the bag to show Plott. She looked at him. Plott's entire face seemed to swell up ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing. He leaned forward, then glared at her. "Is this a joke?" he asked, his voice low.

"It's what I found," Rey said, clenching her jaw. She wouldn't beg. She wouldn't grovel.

Plott shook his head. "One tenth."

"One tenth!?" Rey exploded. "That won't be enough for a day, let-"

Plott waved his hand. "Be happy it's anything at all, you useless jetsam. Now leave. Go!"

He slapped down the pitiful single ration pack, which skidded across the counter to her. Rey snatched it up, half tempted to throw it into his face. Her hands clenched into fists, to hide their shaking. She turned and stalked off, her head held high. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She wouldn't. She would-

A furred wall blocked her way again.

"Human," the alien from before said.

Rey nearly walked into that barrel chest. She forced herself to take a step back, blinking as she actually had to crane her head backwards to look into those dark eyes. "Rey," she said. "My name is Rey. Yours?"

"Baktet," the alien rumbled. "I'm a freight captain and it looks like our ship's going to be stuck here haggling with that bloated mound of fat" He grinned, toothily. "I hear that you and he had an argument about payment. He clearly doesn't pay you nearly enough. And definitely not for the right job." He chuckled, quietly.

Rey rolled one of her shoulders, slowly, measuring her response. Part of her wondered if...maybe...no. Even if he was offering a position on his ship, as a mechanic, well...how would he know she was a good mechanic? Even if he saw her fiddling with her bike. And if he wasn't interested in her mechanical skills, what in the universe could he be thinking of. She tried an ever so slight smile. "And what job is that?"

Baktet chuckled. "On your back, with your legs spread and your panties in orbit." His hand cupped his crotch and Rey's eyes almost popped out of her head in utter shock. She felt as if she had been slapped -- a heat flared across both her cheeks. And...elsewhere. She shook her head, forcing her self to grip onto the simmering anger that was now boiling in her gut. She grabbed her staff, then thrust the point into Baktet's chest, his fur and his muscular body absorbing the sharp prod as if she had barely touched him.

"If you ever come near me again, I'll break your fucking knees," Rey snarled, then turned and stalked towards her speeder bike, her spine ram rod stiff and her chin in the air. The alien watched her go, and she could feel his eyes drinking in her body. She had never felt so...aware of her slender form. Of her pale skin. Of the tautness of her behind, and of the way that her leggings clung to the curves of her back. She clenched her jaw even harder and ignored the alien as best she could. She started to plug the bike's control unit back in.

"It'll pay more than just rations and water you know," Baktet called. "And our ship's in the junkyard. If you're curious."

Rey ignored him and shot off to her home.

***

Rey lay in bed, looking at the ceiling of the canted AT-AT walker she used for her shelter in the frigid night of Jakku. Her stomach was knotting with hunger pangs. She had to go out into the desert, and scavenge. Find something. Anything to sell to Plott. She licked her lips, her eyes half closing. She could do it. But as she considered which ship she'd try to search first, her stomach knotted again and she groaned. Whimpered, really. She had been hungry before -- but never this hungry. And...never this...

Tempted.

On your back. Legs spread. Panties in orbit.

The sound of Baktet's voice echoed in her head. Rumbling through her like a seismic vibration, the feelings that it stirred in her was a horrifying, sickening mixture of disgust...and...wonder. She had never...gone that far before. There had been other bad days, bad weeks, and she had needed to get on her knees and take a smelly human cock in her mouth. She had always made it fast, spat out what was left, and then taken the food rations and never looked at the man again. Since they were always off-world traders, it had worked.

But Baktet wasn't human.

And hadn't been asking for just...

He'd been asking for...

She squirmed in her bed. Her stomach knotted.

Rey groaned quietly.

She'd just go and search a ship now. She'd check a ship and she'd see if she could find something. That was why she was getting her helmet on and adjusting her goggle. Then she'd fly to a ruined ship and she'd make some food. She swung her leg onto her speeder and started, casually, to pick up speed as she accelerated through the desert. And...well, she might...check the ships near the junkyard. She wasn't actually going to go to Baktet's freighter. And as Rey drove, she found herself slowly adjusting the heading of her bike, getting closer and closer to the junkyard. Well. She was just going to see if she could...maybe ambush Plott and beat money out of him. Yeah.

She wasn't going to Baktet's freighter.

The speeder came to a stop near the parked freighters that lined around the canvas shrouded junkyard. The harsh, cold wind of a desert at night caused canvas to crack and snap, rippling in undulating movements. And her eyes fell on the huge hauling ship -- the green hull plating turning nearly midnight black in the gathering dusk. She licked her lips slightly. She wasn't going to speak to Baktet. She was simply...

Going to...

For her curiosity.

Rey swung her leg off her bike, then started to walk towards the freighter. No. She was here because she was angry. Offended. He had thought she was some common...common space walker? Yeah. That was why. She clenched her fists as she came to the airlock of Baktet's freighter. She lifted her hand, ready to hammer it on the metal. But then she stopped. Her head felt like it was spinning. Her stomach had knotted with hunger even more -- and suddenly, her mouth filled with spittle. Standing near the airlock door, she could smell the scent of cooking.

Real cooking.

Actual food.

Rey whimpered, lowering her hand.

Which was when the airlock door opened and she found herself looking into the broad, scaled, muscular expanse of a Tradoshan's chest. The Tradoshan had emerald green and bright gold scaling. His triangular head was split into a wide snarl, and his eyes glittered as he tilted his snout forward to glare down at Rey. He was dressed in an opened vest, leggings, and nothing else, which left his scaled feet and his scaled forearms and his scaled belly entirely exposed, which only reinforced just how well muscled and dangerous he was. He held a blaster pistol in one hand, and he leveled it at Rey.

"You here to steal?" he hissed, his voice deadly. Like a snake.

Rey scowled at him. "I am not!" she said.

"Thrash!" Baktet called out from deeper in the ship. "What's going on out there?"

"Some human bitch is out here," Thrash said, his free hand scraping a set of claw-marks into the wall of the airlock, adding an uneasy screech to his voice.

Baktet's thumping footsteps filled the air a moment later. Then he was there, standing behind Thrash. The Tradoshan was nowhere near as tall as whatever race Baktet was, and he stepped aside sullenly as Baktet gently pushed him away. But it was the smug expression on Baktet's expression that nearly sent Rey stalking away into the night. His grin. His glittering eyes. His quiet purr. "Well, well, well, look whose here..." he said.

Rey sniffed. This was a mistake. This filled her nose with the scent of cooking. She tried to sound strong. "I want to discuss terms, first."

"Come in," Baktet said, jerking his head.

Rey narrowed her eyes.

"Girl, I won't lay hand on you until you agree," Baktet said, grinning, which made Thrash perk up ever so slightly. His iridescent eyes widened and his teeth flashed as he grinned. Rey ignored him. She was here for Baktet and his offer. And so, she followed the broad shouldered alien into the freighter proper. She saw that the interior was cleaner than she had expected. The walls were smooth, and the doors were well oiled. They walked past several corridors that led into the cargo hold proper before coming to a kitchen. Two other aliens were there. One was lounging around on the couch in the corner of the room -- a blue-furred lupine who wore nothing but a loincloth that rested only lightly across quite a prominent bulge. The other alien was tending to the simmering pots and cauldrons that were cooking the alien's meals.

This fellow was a race that Rey recognized: A besalisk. A large, four armed lizard-like creature with a pronounced crest on their head and broad, trunk-like legs. Unlike many besalisks, this one wasn't overly fond of his own cooking. He wasn't fat and chubby. If anything, he was nearly as muscular and fit as Baktet, who gestured with his hand. "That's our cook, Kells, and that lazy furrball is our porter, Xoan."

Xoan flipped Baktet off.

"R-right," Rey said, then stood up straighter. "Where's your offices?"

"Offices?" Baktet asked. "Girl, this is where we discuss all our business. And here's how it goes. For every day in port, you get food, water, and twenty five credits. In exchange, any of us can fuck you at any time. We want your cute little lips to suck, you suck. We want you to put your ass up so we can lube it and fuck it, you put your pretty little ass up and beg for more. We want to fill your human pussy with so much alien cum that your belly's as round as Kells, then you spread your fucking legs and smile. That's the offer. Take it. Or..." He jerked his hand over his shoulder, towards the airlock. "Leave it."

As he had spoke, Rey felt as if her head had grown lighter and lighter, her eyes widening more and more. Her mouth was opened into a perfect O, and she found herself jerking her gaze away from Baktet and to the others. She saw Xoan looking at her with a wide, toothy grin. His loincloth...she had thought it had bulged before. Now, she saw that his bulge had only started to show. Her mouth felt dry. Her stomach growled. And she tried to think through the calculations. A week of this would be enough to not worry about Plott for weeks.

Rey's tongue darted out. "A hundred a day," she said, her voice husky.

"Fifty," Baktek said.

"Sixty," Rey shot back.

"Deal," Baktet said. Rey didn't have time to feel anything but faint shock before Baktet grabbed her shirt...and tore. Rey let out a single squeak as the tatters of her shirt fell to the ground around her feet, some few scraps sticking to her sweat slicked skin. Her breasts bounced ever so slightly as she jerked back, her shoulders drawing back as she opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't quite sure what she would have said, had Baktet not put his large, furred hand to her cheek and slid his thumb into her mouth. Rey's eyes half closed as she made a muffled noise in the base of her throat as Baktet's rough, blunt claw-tip pressed to her tongue. It felt like she was a piece of meat, being examine. Tested.

He grunted, then pushed her to her knees, one hand on her shoulder, the other still in her mouth. Rey made a quiet, angry noise -- but then his hand was drawing back and she could speak. "I haven't been fed yet!" she said, trying to sound like she wasn't terrified. She hadn't imagined that he'd be like this. So...

Powerful.

"That's something I'm about to fix," Baktet said, chuckling -- and other laughs came from the room. Rey glanced around and wasn't sure if it was more or less frightening that neither of the other aliens were paying particular attention to her. The utterly blasé attitude that oozed from both the cook and the porter impressed on her that...that...Rey's eyes widened. Baktet had slid down his leggings and underneath were trunk-like furred thighs and a thick sheath, like a canid. But emerging from that sheath was a cock nearly as thick around as her wrist, and it was still growing longer and harder. The color was a nearly midnight black, slick and faintly reflective, while the tip was nearly tube-shaped. A thick strand of pale white liquid dripped from it, spackling onto her breasts, nearly sizzling hot. Rey gulped, loudly.

And breathed in.

Her head spun. She had never been quite so hungry in her life -- and right now, nothing had smelled quite as good as this male's cock. Her nose slowly bumped against the side of the thick, black member, and her tongue darted out, tasting the side of his cock. Salty. She drew her head back, forcing herself to look at the cock, to look attentive and focused. Not...drunk. "What race are you, anyway?" she asked, her voice tight. Brusque. Her hand closed around the base of his cock. It was just like sucking off a human -- save that her fingers didn't reach her palms, by the Force. She looked up. And up. And up.

God he was tall. And muscular.

Baktek chuckled. "You never seen a Yuzzem before, girl? Now..." He grabbed her hair. Not roughly, but...firmly. His fingers slipped through her brown locks and he squeezed enough to get the message across -- though Rey could feel the iron hard strength in his palm. "Open your lips. I haven't been blown in six standard fucking weeks." He growled as Rey opened her mouth -- to respond. To breathe. But Baktek didn't care. He pressed the tip of his cock against her lips, then pushed forward. Rey made a little noise at the base of her throat, her eyes closing as she tried to go slack, her jaw hanging open as Baktet felt the resistance, then pushed forward a bit more. His large, furred balls slapped her chin and Rey's eyes half closed, tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.

Holy fuck, she thought, feeling her throat stretch.

Then Baktet started to actually move. He thrust and thrust and thrust, grunting low in his throat as he held her head in place. Rey closed her eyes, trying to focus on the simple mechanics. To not think that she was being throat fucked by a two meter tall alien she had never met, who had bought her. Like a speeder bike. Like a droid.