Zechs blinked. The steam rising up to give his eyes a gentle twitch. Steam glistening off the mostly naked form before him. Off the rears of his companions scattering like siths when the bill was due. Little rays of bewitching radiance glittering off the waxed seats and floating aroma of butt.
Yup. This wasn’t the bathroom. He probably should have taken a left turn at the bathroom sign pointing left.
He might not know who he was, but he knew what was expected of him. Something was about to go down. It was going to be rough. It was going to be slippery and not at all easy to manage breathing. The heat was really starting to get to him. Each breath felt like actual work. How could anyone like these things? He was sweating out of his eyes it was so warm. Maybe it was set for wookie or ewok bathing. No human could like it like this. But that was getting off point. Zechs knew what was expected of him. So… It was time.
Zechs dropped pants. “Come on, man. No pants, no problems.”
SL: 20th Wild Ride on the Rim
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Zechs Merquise
- Full Member
- Posts: 580
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
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Zechs Merquise
- Full Member
- Posts: 580
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: SL: 20th Wild Ride on the Rim
Lost in the galley of the ship, a lone boy sat pealing vegetables for the cook. “Hoo mony mair, dad?”
“Mair.” It was always the same. Though orders came in and food went out, the vegetables never strayed from their tin. It reminded him of the good old days. What was it his dad always told him?
“Son, we come frae a prood fowk. there's naethin' ye cannae dae, but first, ye main master th' art ay pealin' vegetables. they'll make ye strang an' gie ye a guid grip oan life.”
And so the boy continued to peal and peal. Always more. Always more. Until the day, he’d become a man and get promoted to stirring. Now those would be the days.
“Every cheil main learn tae stir th' soop. it's hoo we cause some braw trooble.”
His dad was as wise as a space ass.
“Mair.” It was always the same. Though orders came in and food went out, the vegetables never strayed from their tin. It reminded him of the good old days. What was it his dad always told him?
“Son, we come frae a prood fowk. there's naethin' ye cannae dae, but first, ye main master th' art ay pealin' vegetables. they'll make ye strang an' gie ye a guid grip oan life.”
And so the boy continued to peal and peal. Always more. Always more. Until the day, he’d become a man and get promoted to stirring. Now those would be the days.
“Every cheil main learn tae stir th' soop. it's hoo we cause some braw trooble.”
His dad was as wise as a space ass.
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Zasabi Ray
- Full Member
- Posts: 179
- Joined: Mon Aug 26, 2019 1:37 am
Re: SL: 20th Wild Ride on the Rim
Zasabi turned to face the only fellow who had remained and cursed himself. It was the farter, who had apparently decided to use his shortest appendage as a weapon.
Distracted by the sheer lunacy of the situation, he had no response when he was tackled by what appeared to be a sweaty landspeeder. The pair went flying through the locker room, landing roughly on the tile and sliding almost at full speed. Suddenly, Zasabi felt the pressure on his chest slip away and looked down. He had just enough time to notice the thug had been caught on the seat of a bench he had managed to slide under before he smacked cranium first into a steel door.
"Sithspit!" His hands clutched his head like the pearls of a wealthy matron, a throbbing pain filling his mind. Using a hand to secure his footing, he rose to his feet and found himself standing at the far end of the room, surrounded by lockers and benches. On the other end, several more thugs had assembled to fight for their boss' honor.
"So be it," Zasabi scowled. "No pants it is."
His hands raised, a moist towel stretched between them. Instead of protecting his modesty, now it would protect his life.
Distracted by the sheer lunacy of the situation, he had no response when he was tackled by what appeared to be a sweaty landspeeder. The pair went flying through the locker room, landing roughly on the tile and sliding almost at full speed. Suddenly, Zasabi felt the pressure on his chest slip away and looked down. He had just enough time to notice the thug had been caught on the seat of a bench he had managed to slide under before he smacked cranium first into a steel door.
"Sithspit!" His hands clutched his head like the pearls of a wealthy matron, a throbbing pain filling his mind. Using a hand to secure his footing, he rose to his feet and found himself standing at the far end of the room, surrounded by lockers and benches. On the other end, several more thugs had assembled to fight for their boss' honor.
"So be it," Zasabi scowled. "No pants it is."
His hands raised, a moist towel stretched between them. Instead of protecting his modesty, now it would protect his life.
