Amanda's Holiday Hallowthanksmas Special, part 1

There is a transparent sky overhead showing the void outside, while in front of you is a cozy suburban neighborhood. This station, Plum Valley, is about triple St. Applegate's size, a much cheaper and less exclusive place to live, yet it still manages to exude simple, wholesome charm from every street and garden.

The Milky Way Church - the powerful organization which created both this station and St. Applegate, as well as about a tenth of all colonies in known space - has known for a long time that the larger and more diverse colonies grow, the harder it is for them to maintain the kind of cohesive, faithful society they want. That's why they have moved, in recent centuries, towards building artificial space stations with controlled climate instead of terraforming whole planets. That allows them to be a net exporter of population, which means they can slurp up funding and remittances from all of the corporate-driven colonization projects that inevitably overestimate how much population they can attract.

You're all too happy to play a part in this scheme. Specifically, ensuring a station like this will be a little more crowded 20 years down the line. And although you are strongly discouraged from returning to St. Applegate, your companion Valerie Glidden downright encouraged you to play Plum Valley a visit. Oh - there she is giving you a call now.

"Mmm. Hey babe. I'm in front of the place now." you say. "Just like you said, there are a bunch of holograms of monsters, giant fat birds with brown feathers and weird-shaped heads, ghosts, um, fat ghosts with black rocks for eyes and mouths... uh... some kind of giant squash..."

"Those are pumpkins, Amanda." Valerie still has a sharp and chiding tongue for you even though she's six months pregnant with your kid and spending a bit less time on her feet than she was when she was following you in person to your escapades a couple of months ago.

She doesn't have quite the energy level as she did when you two first hooked up, but Valerie still takes self-righteous pleasure in using you as a tool to test others: "It's disgraceful that they engage in this kind of heretical superstition on Plum Valley. I'd heard the rumors but I didn't think it would be so scandalously out in the open. This so-called holiday should have been crossed off the calendars a long time ago."

As you recall, St. Applegate has quite a lot of holidays - about a quarter of the year. None of the ships you ever served aboard in the decade it took you to earn your own ever offered holidays - that's something for people with a permanent home, not spacers like yourself. But this one seems vaguely familiar. "What's so scandalous about it? Even if you hadn't vetoed my 'sexy devil' costume, the regulations page would've banned it anyway. Every outfit I've seen on the streets so far has been pretty tame."

"Speaking of that," Valerie's voice says over the comm with a hint of resignation, "I wish you had gone with something a bit less... conspicuous."

You take a glance at yourself in a nearby window. You decided to dress up as the 'grim reaper', although delivering **** is the precise opposite of what you intend to do here. Your fit body is mostly hidden by a black cloak but underneath, every inch if your skin (and you do mean EVERY inch) is covered in jet-black nanopaint, with skeleton bones painted on top of the black, giving you an eerily erotic skeletal appearance. The only coverings beneath the cloak are tiny pasties over your nipples and a very snug banana hammock down south. "Oooh, but you haven't even seen the best part yet. I promise, I'll show you in great detail when I get back. But until then, I have some divine punishment to bring, right?"

"Yes." Valerie says firmly. "It is absolutely intolerable for ancient pagan holidays to continue to be celebrated on a station that claims to be adherent to the faith, especially since over a dozen genuine holy days have been crowded out by this two-month-long hedonistic festival of extravagance! The Church must be shown that these ancient holidays are laden with sinful and dangerous ideas, no matter how bastardized a form they're celebrated in."

"I'm happy to be your angel of vengeance," you say, a smirk forming on your jet-black painted lips, "as long as you don't mind me doing some 'bastardizing' of my own."

"Of course," Valerie says over the comm, "I'll be watching the entire time. To make sure you don't overstep your bounds. I've spread rumors all around Plum Valley that a massive interstellar development company has been lobbying to remove the protected status of one of the Milky Way Church's holy worlds and open it to mineral exploitation... and that the executive responsible has a futanari daughter who just so happens to be visiting Plum Valley for this 'Hallowthanksmas' nonsense to attend a few house parties..." her voice is getting more manic and excited as she speaks, "...and that if said futanari daughter were to be recorded by home security systems engaging in some very scandalous behavior, it would derail those plans almost immediately. Along with, no doubt, some generous hush payments to those in a position to give a tell-all interview to snooping reporters."

"Mmm..." you feel a dampness and stiffening down below in anticipation as Valerie's smooth voice works you up. "Going close to the edge of telling sinful lies without going over, right? It's true that my mom is an influential colonial administrator who does a bit of lobbying the local galactic senate committee on the side."

"Indeed," Valerie says with a low chuckle, "nor did I lie when I added that this futanari daughter is a 'spoiled, immature, hedonistic whore without a shred of morality or self-control.' Those were my exact words."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." you giggle before hanging up on Valerie.

You look ahead at the huge house festooned with holographic decorations. "Mmm... I'm not offering anything directly. This could be a bit of a challenge. I wonder how hard it will be to talk some ladies in a celebratory mood into a little fun?"

...

Fifteen minutes later, it turns out the answer is 'not very'. Before even walking in you encountered a pair leaving: an elementary-school-age girl in a black cat costume and, much more relevant to you, her mother: a tall, voluptuous raven-haired woman in a 'witch' costume with a pointy hat and a long black dress. Partway through she gives you a peek and shows that under that cloak, just like you, she is wearing something much more revealing - a lacy black teddy, thigh-high stockings, and a pair of panties so thin you can see her pubic landing strip.

The milf-y witch comes up with an excuse to 'bump into you' and you feel her hand brush up against your inner thighs and feel what you're packing there. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she explains. "I was just taking Chelsea here home. It's turning eight o'clock soon, which means curfew - no one under 18 allowed out, not even with supervision."

"Awww, but mom, I wanted to get more candy," the kid says.

"Darling, there's another six weeks of Hallowthanksmas! I'm worried you'll get too much at this rate!" The buxom witch sighs, then glances at you again. "But... if you promise to be in by eight, you can run to one more street of houses."

"Yay!" is the immediate joyous response.

The buxom witch gives you a sidelong glance and flutters her eyelashes with a smirk."Oh - I have to pick something up that I almost left without." she tells her young daughter.

"What's that?" the girl asks innocently.

"I'll tell you when you're older." her mom says, patting her on the head and sending her on her way... then turning back to look at you with a gaze so hot it could melt the steel of a ship hull.

...

"Oh fuck! Please, have mercy!" you moan. You and the lady - she never gave you her name - are in a guest bathroom. She's spent the last ten minutes at least giving you an agonizingly good blowjob as you sit on the toilet seat lid, always stopping before you can blow.

"You naughty minx," she says in a throaty voice as she flashes her eyes at you, a strand of saliva running from your cock to her plump lips. "Don't try and tell me this wasn't what you were looking for. How long did it take you to get this detailed costume work done?"

She is holding your erect cock in her hand. Like the rest of you, it's painted completely black, with a cartoon 'skeleton bone' painted on both the top and the bottom. And that's not all. The skeleton design on your chest also covers your boobs. But your favorite part of all is what the hot MILF is teasing with her tongue right now: your sack is pitch-black just like the rod above it, and each of your balls are highlighted with a skull.

"What can I say?" you giggle, reaching around behind her to toy with her pussy with your fingertips through the gossamer-thin surface of her panties. "This holiday is all about dressing things up as what they're not, right? So the things that are the source of life, having a motif of ****-"

She insistently presses two fingers against your lips to shut you up. "Shhh." she says authoritatively, as she stands up and peels her panties down, sensually tugging them off over her high heels and straddling your lap, "all you needed to say is 'It's a bone!', which it certainly is. A hard, round, magnificent bone. And all I have to say is... why don't you let me pretend to be a wicked witch, and ride it like a broomstick?"

A minute later the cramped bathroom is full of the sound of skin slapping against skin as a huge pair of tits gradually bounce their way free of the snug, lacy black cups that had been containing them. Tempting though they are, in this awkward position your hands are occupied gripping the sexy witch's generous ass and helping lift and drop her again and again.You feel her pubes tickling you as she grinds against you, squeezing as tight as she can with her pussy.

"Unnnhhhh... holy shit, I never thought something like this was going to happen at a... a wholesome religious station like this..." you lie as convincingly as you can while distracted by the tightness around your cock and the pair of F-cup titties bouncing in your face.

"Ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhh..." the witch moans sensually as she rocks back and forth in your lap, gyrating her upper body for your viewing pleasure. "Is that so? Are you, ahhhhh, a naughty girl who can't... ah... keep her dick in her panties? Did you come here... ah... looking for a mommy to set you straight?"

"Yes! Oh yes, mommy!" you cry out, embarrassing even yourelf a little bit as the words flow freely from your lips. "I'm a bad, bad girl and I can't control my cock... my cock... I'm about to cum!"

"Go ahead!" she lunges forward, kissing you on the lips and pressing her tits against yours. "Cum inside me! If my husband doesn't like it he can go to hell! Do it! Cum for your mommy!"

A sensuous groan escapes your lips as your eyes roll back in your head. Ironically for someone dressed as the grim reaper, you are the one experiencing a 'little ****' - not that there's anything little about the quantity of cum you're spurting into the mature raven-haired sexpot's depths as she milks you for your potent seed.

Both of you sit there for a minute. She keeps softly moving, allowing some of the cream to start flowing out around the base of your softening cock still deep inside her.

Suddenly there is a faint buzzing. "Oh shit." she hurriedly pulls up one of her lacy black gloves. With one hand she rudely covers your mouth completely with her palm, while with the other, she speaks into her wrist communicator. "Yes, dear? Ah - yes, I sent Chelsea home on her own. Like I said, she's old enough that she needs to learn a little independence. I'm glad she wasn't late. Huh? No, I'm not with anyone. I just needed to use the restroom to straighten up before I left..." she gets up off your lap, keeping her legs wide in an awkward stance so none of the cum dribbles onto her stockings. She takes her hand off your mouth and makes a 'shoo' gesture as she roughly edges you off of the toilet and lifts the lid.

You pretend to be embarrassed, although you'd love to see her trying to clean out her pussy so her husband doesn't grow suspicious. You've mostly been avoiding married women since you began this bet, more out of a sense of self-preservation than morality, but you can't deny the thrill of knowing that the sap on the other end of that comm call might spend the next few decades raising your bastard child without knowing. Considering what his wife is like, it makes you wonder if that kid in the cat costume was genetically his, either.

After you quickly wipe yourself off with wet naps and tug your top and bottoms back into place before re-covering with the tattered black hooded cloak, you walk out of the bathroom with a sigh.

In the main room of the spacious house (a mini-mansion, really) you see that the few remaining parents with kids that you'd seen on the way in are now gone. And in the meantime, a lot of new guests seem to have arrived, most of them in costumes, as well. Still tame compared to what you'd see in the festivals or holidays on some planets and stations... but showing a bit more leg, cleavage, or hint of midriff than would be appropriate at an 'all-ages' holiday party. Some of them are dressed in dark and 'spooky' outfits like that witch, but others are more wholesome.

There's a couple of male youths dressed as some kind of tribal warriors with feathered headdresses just like some of the porn actors and actresses in the first porno you directed last year, "Ride 'em Cowgirl". A couple older guys on the paunchy side are wearing fake white beards and dressed in what looks like fur-trimmed red pajamas, complete with a tasseled cap. Over on the other side of the room you see a group of young couples wearing matching deer costumes, headbands with fake antlers on their heads.

It all seems perfectly respectable. Someone announces that the 'feast' is being prepared and reminding everyone not to fill up on appetizers and cocktails before the bird is served.

Unsurprisingly, it isn't long before several guys come along and start trying to chat you up, including the ones in tribal wear. Normally you might indulge their interest a bit more but you only have one night on this station, so you don't want to risk any hot babes mistaking you as 'taken'. As you have a cocktail and make small talk, you see a few partygoers surreptitiously going over to the holographic fireplace. Over that illusionary fire, there are a number of what appear to be giant fur-trimmed socks(?) pinned to the wall. Those sneaking over there reach into one of those stockings and pull something out that they keep carefully hidden in their hand, before going off with whoever they were sneaking off to one of the bedrooms or side rooms with.

You glance down one of the halls, watching a couple go into one - one of the guys in the red pajamas and fake beard, and a giggling cocoa-skinned girl wearing a green minidress, cap, red-and-white striped stockings and pointy 'elf ears'. The man pulls off one of his socks and leaves it draped over the doorknob before the two of them slip inside.

Just as you are mulling the possibility of 'accidentally' stumbling into one of those taken rooms and seeing where things go, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Turning around, it's a young man in a goofy costume making him look like a giant ear of corn.

"Wow, that's a pretty corny costume you picked, huh?" you say reflexively. Rather than taking it as an 'in' or in good humor, he just rolls his eyes and sighs. "Yeah, whatever. Just... go to the kitchen, okay? Someone was asking for your help."

"The kitchen? I dunno... I'm a pretty terrible cook. Except when it comes to baking." you reply with a smirk. If only he knew you were making a pun about your skill at putting 'buns in the oven'.

"No, it's... just go there, okay? My aunt left my cousin in charge of making the simplest dish now that everything else is in the oven, and... Aunt Rachel said that you could help her by bringing a special garnish from one of those stockings hanging there." he points. "God, I can't believe they sent me to tell you this... just, don't let anyone see it in your hand, okay?" He's blushing as he hustles away before you can reply.

A smirk spreads across your lips as you reach into one of those stockings and find what was in it. Something small and round and made of rubber, which fits perfectly in the palm of your hand.

"Hmm..." you whisper to yourself, "he said 'cousin'... could be either gender. Well, as long as we're playing safe, a little fun with a boy-toy won't hurt. Still..." you cross your fingers with a giggle as you head to the kitchen area.

Just as you're reaching it though, a comm comes through. You answer and, unsurprisingly, it's Valerie.

"Amanda! So glad I could reach you. I hope the party is going well so far?" Valerie says.

"Swimmingly." you give your wrist-comm a meaningful wink.

"Hmph." Valerie tut-tuts to herself. "I should have known these so-called holiday parties were a cover for a months-long hedonistic orgy. I'm sure I can count on you not to hold back in your appointed role as a vessel for God's white-hot wrath."

"I'm a vessel for something hot and white, alright. And a certain unfaithful wife is a vessel for it too, now." you whisper conspiratorially as your hand lingers on the door handle. "There's someone waiting on me now, I'll tell you all about it later in the comfort of our quarters." you say as you turn the knob and push the door open.

"Hold on a moment Amanda." Valerie continues. "I'm not just calling to hear your first impressions. There's a high-priority call coming in on your ship's hyperspace comm."

"Oh shit," you mutter, "I hope you didn't accept the charges if it was a collect call. Those astronomical-distance calls cost like a hundred credits per minute."

"No, no charges," Valerie says. "But the interesting thing is it's from St. Applegate. I thought it might be for me but the message says it's for you. Whoever it is says you'll remember them well and that it's urgent."

"Oh." you say with a roll of your eyes, leaving the door half open. "Another of your former students who flunked a pregnancy test found out my real name, huh? Shit, I shouldn't say that out loud."

"You shouldn't say such filthy language out loud at all." Valerie chastises you sternly. "But as I said, they say it is urgent. Would you please accept the call transfer so this obnoxious beeping stops? I can hardly enjoy imagining you carrying out your creamy duties with this- hmmm? What's wrong?"

No doubt Valerie heard your sharp, excited, intake of breath as you finished pushing open the kitchen door and see what must be the corn costume guy's cousin. "Whatever it is, it can wait, talktoyoulaterValeriebye." you rush through your goodbye before hanging up.