This choice: "Now boarding, flight to San Diego." • Go Back...Chapter #10"Now boarding, flight to San Diego." by: Yote   Angel Airways is a low-cost, low-quality airline company which was quick to capitalise on the emergence of TF tech. The stewardesses are blonde bimbos (even by airline standards) with large white dove wings grafted onto their backs and flimsy metal halos attached to their caps. They cut costs everywhere but save the most money on their super-economy class, where passengers opt to be altered into small, easily transportable cubes of flesh. A single Angel Airways flight can transport several thousand passengers at once by packing them into their pressurized cargo hold, each customer only paying a fraction of the cost and using an even smaller fraction of the fuel.
You watch out of the boarding lounge window as the luggage cart trundles across the tarmac carrying three thousand softly jiggling cubes of flesh. Each one has a barcode that must be scanned as they are, with all the care and concern given to regular baggage (i.e. none), loaded (i.e. thrown) into the Angel Airways cargo hold. On arrival, their barcodes will be scanned and their original bodies restored to them.
It is not a pleasant way to travel, even devoid of most sensory organs. Fortunately your dad has chipped in extra for seats. You head to the boarding gates. The angelic stewardesses greet you with pearly smiles, glance once at the passport photograph of your 40-year-old dad, glance up at the corresponding naked blue woman, beam vacantly and usher you on to the plane.
It is all but empty with row after row of empty seats. Most people these days opt for the flesh-cube method of travel, at least on budget airlines. "Sit wherever you like," the stewardess coos. "We're only expecting a few more passengers."
You find the seat with the least amount of chewing gum stuck to it. Dad fidgets with the suit, tugging at the material that was now his skin. "Damn them, they even disabled Jennifer Lawrence mode!"
"What does Jennifer Lawrence mode do?" you ask, daring to dream.
He rolls his golden eyes. "Exactly what it sounds like. Switches the suit to J-Law mode. Though at the moment it does absolute nothing. They must have disabled most of the suit's features when they locked me in here. I suppose we'll have plenty of time to play with them when we arrive."
Yet as the plane finally began to trundle down the runway, there were only two of the suit's "features" you wanted to play with. As he leaned across your lap in the narrow seats to peer out of the window, his tits pressed briefly against your chest and you find yourself suddenly and unwillingly hardening. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, wishing that he wasn't sitting so close... or that he was sitting closer. He not to notice the effect his proximity is having, and why would he? He would never entertain the idea that his own son might actually want to fuck him and, until now, neither had you. Suddenly it was the only thing you wanted to do.
"Here we go," dad says excitedly as the plane engines roar and the acceleration kicks in, craning so hard over you to see the runway racing past that he is almost seated in your lap. He's so near that you can smell the rubbery "new car smell" of the suit.
As the plane tilts upwards, there is a noise from below as if from a poorly stacked pile of flesh-cubes being thrown about. As the plane levels out, a stewardess hurries down the aisle to check on them. Dad drops back into his seat.
"Welp," he announces. "Long flight ahead. I'm going to go find the drinks trolley."
He heads away, finally giving you the time and privacy to rearange the boner in your pants.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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