Bounty to Booty [A Green Alien Space Babe TG Story] - Part 2

Commissioned Anonymously

~

Magnus woke slowly, warm sun filtered across his skin, and without thinking, he snuggled deeper into the soft cushions of the couch, blanket wrapped around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so cosy and comfortable; even his bed back on Thebe had been a thin mattress. He had always kept it slightly uncomfortable so he could wake quickly, a deep sleep meant death for a bounty hunter if the wrong person came knocking. It felt alien to wake so slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning. 

“Morning, sleepy head.” Zender smiled. “It’s almost ten. You seemed wiped out.”

“Ten!?”

Magnus felt his cheeks turn teal; he hadn't slept that late since…he couldn’t remember. The idea that he’d been lying here, totally vulnerable with this stranger around, was disconcerting, to say the least. He quickly snatched up the cred stick that had fallen from his grip in the night and checked it; the few creds he had to his name were still there. Zender looked at him but said nothing. Lacking any pockets, Magnus stuffed it in his cleavage; if that didn't force Zender to show his hand, nothing would. 

“Here, I made breakfast,” Zender said, not even acknowledging the action. “Once you’ve eaten, I can take you to the housing lodge, you can sign up for a public housing waitlist, and then I can help you find anything else you need. A job, I suppose?”

“I have a job,” Magnus replied curtly. “I just…need to retrain for it.”

“Like, a new qualification?”

“Something like that.” Magnus grinned. “I need to learn how to fight.”

“F-fight?” 

“Yes, I’m a bounty hunter, you see.” 

The look on Zender’s face was worth all the credits in the world. It took all Magnus’ self-control not to cackle. He grinned wider, enjoying watching the softie squirm. 

“I was a human once, male too. But then this scientist did something with a syringe, and here I am. So I am off to learn how to fight in this body, then get back to it.”

“And…kill him?” Zender swallowed.

“Maybe.” 

Of course, he was joking. A dead bounty was no good, but he enjoyed watching Zender try to continue his breakfast without his hands shaking. That would be the end of his help now; Magnus was sure. Either he believed him, and he was terrified, or he didn't, and he thought Magnus was certifiably insane. Either way, Zender wouldn’t want anything to do with him now. They finished their food, and Magnus looked at Zender expectantly, looking forward to his hastily thought up excuse for not helping him anymore. 

“Right then,” Zender put down his cup and stood up. Shall we go? I need to open the shop in a few hours, so we better get you on the waitlist.”

Magnus felt his smile falter.

“Alright then…”

~

“I’m afraid it's a bit of a long wait. It takes time to grow more houses, you see. It’ll be weeks before I have anything. And, of course, to qualify, you need to be employed. And get yourself some proper identification. Authentic identification” 

Magnus gripped his knees; he’d never had to worry about this sort of thing before. On Thebe, you could get by so long as you could pay. Nobody cared about credentials; half the time, the less they knew, the better. Magnus didn't even understand what this woman meant by ‘grow’ more houses. 

“Can she still put her name down?” Zender asked.

“Of course, but she’ll need to put her full name, Magnus, isn't enough, I’m afraid.”

Zender looked at him expectantly, and Magnus pressed his full lips into as thin a line as they could make. He had forgone a last name since he got into this business. His grip tightened around his knees. He hated this. He hated all of it. He just wanted to go home where things made sense, where people were assholes, and he could trust them not to stab him so long as he had money or the muscles to stop it. 

“Screw this.” He muttered, standing upland, not bothering to excuse himself as he stalked out of the building. 

“Magnus, wait!” Zender called, chasing after him. 

Magnus stopped on the mossy footpath and glared over his shoulder at him. 

“I can say you work in my shop, if you like.” Zender continued. “Speaking of which, I have to go open it now but-”

“Enough. I am sick of you.” Magnus growled. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, this whole nice guy act? But it won’t work on me, understand. Now, go back to your little tailor shop and leave me be!”

Magnus didn’t wait for a reply. Everything about this trip had gone wrong and he just wanted something familiar and safe, like a good fight. The sooner he learned to defend himself properly in this body, the sooner he could get the hell out of here. It took him longer than expected to find a gym, But as he stepped inside, Magnus wanted to scream. 

His hopes for some bastion of normalcy were dashed instantly. Warm, soft lighting illuminated a sleek space filled with equipment that looked almost decorative. The air buzzed with the quiet hum of conversation as the other gym-goers went about their routines. None of them were here for combat training. Most of them were stretching in poses similar to yoga, others ran on treadmills or lifted weights, but there wasn't so much as a punching bag. 

A middle aged looking Andite woman was manning the desk as he approached and she smiled warmly. That same warm smile Zender used. Magnus was getting sick of these overly friendly people, it almost made him wistful for the asshole who'd tried to exploit him yesterday. Magnus understood him, at least. 

"What can I help you with?" The woman asked.

"I need to learn to fight. Do you have anybody around here looking for a sparring partner?"

“Oh, dear, no,” she had said, laughing lightly. “We don’t do that sort of thing here. Violence is… well, it’s not in our nature.”

Magnus huffed and turned his attention to the Andites lifting weights. None of them were particularly strong-looking, but they at least had some muscle. 

"I'm looking for a sparring partner, " he announced, and they all looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. 

“This is a space for growth, not aggression,” one said. 

“Why would you want to learn something so barbaric?” Asked another. 

Magnus didn't bother answering; they would get him nowhere fast. His only choice was to take the mats, hoping he could learn to use this body by himself. He took up position and started working through a few punches. The questions frustrated him, but what frustrated him more was the fact that, deep down, he couldn’t explain why. Fighting was necessary, wasn’t it? At least it had been in his old life. But here, in this peaceful, pacifist society, his need for violence seemed almost absurd.

But it wasn't like he could stay here, all this softness, it just wasn't him. Once a bounty hunter, always a bounty hunter. It was the only life he knew and he was too old to learn anything else. Perhaps he was too old to learn what he used to though. No matter how hard he practised he couldn't quite get used to the way this new body felt. His new form was a puzzle, and he was determined to solve it. If no one would teach him, he would teach himself. Every clumsy movement and awkward stumble was a step closer to mastery. And once he had that, once he was in control again, he would find the ones responsible for this transformation.  

Each time he pivoted on his toes, his curves would bounce, distracting him. His long hair tickled his shoulders, and his ass always seemed to get in the way when he tried to duck and roll. Throwing a punch was awkward; his arms felt too long, his centre of gravity too low. He stumbled when he tried a spinning kick, his antennae brushing against a low-hanging light fixture, sending shockwaves through his system. It was so much that he couldn't even figure out if it was pleasure or pain. He grit his teeth and kept at it until closing, when the kind yet confused looking woman pushed him gently back out into the street. The air was cool, making his green skin stiffen with gooseflesh. His mind returned to the comfortable couch and warm blankets at Zender’s.

“This body is making you soft.” He hissed to himself. “This place has the nicest streets in existence. You can handle sleeping rough.” 

He found a sheltered patch of mossy ground between two large grassy buildings. It was the nicest alley he’d ever slept in, yet he still felt cold. That became his new existence. At night, he slept in the alleyway, trying to force his new soft body to toughen up then by day, he trained. His movements were smoother now, but they still lacked the power he was used to. This body didn’t have the same brute strength, but it was quick. He could feel that much.

He decided to lean into the agility, experimenting with dodges and side steps. He used an abandoned gym bag and a jump rope as a makeshift punching bag. The other gymgoers watched him with barely concerned fascination and confusion; Magnus ignored them. His antennae twitched with every movement, picking up the subtle sway of the bag as it swung back toward him. After a while, he realised they were helping him predict the motion, giving him an almost uncanny sense of timing. His stomach rumbled; he was living off scraps and what he could pilfer when nobody was looking. He refused to get a job or find a proper place to live; he didn’t want roots here. At all. After how quickly he’d gone soft thanks to Zender, he didn’t want to risk it. 

And yet, even as he improved, Magnus didn't feel satisfied. There was no gratification in the punches. Even when he imagined the most irritating marks he’d ever gone after. Next to the relaxed yoga classes and streets full of peaceful citizens, it all seemed so…stupid. There was crime here, there must have been, but it was so understated and non-violent he couldn’t see it, even when he looked. 

Which is why it was so shocking to come across a mugging. He heard it before he saw it: the familiar thud of punches against skin and coughing as somebody got kneed in the guts. He had been about to return to his alley when the sounds had drawn him further into town. 

He crept closer, his bare feet silent against the damp moss. Two figures stood over a third, who was curled on the ground, clutching their midsection. The perps were offworlders, a human and Plumarian by the looks of it.  His instincts told him to walk away; this wasn't his problem, but for the first time, he ignored them. On Thebe, this would be an hourly occurrence, but here it just seemed wrong.

“Hey!” he shouted, stepping into the open.

The attackers froze, turning toward him. Their gazes flicked up and down his slender, curvaceous green frame and grinned. 

"Aw, a little lady, how sweet."

Magnus put his hand on his hip and cocked it to one side. The posture was new and feminine, yet he felt powerful. Every instinct screamed at him to barrel into them, fists flying, but his new body wasn’t built for brute force. He’d have to outthink them, out manoeuvre them.

"You want a fight? I'll give you one." He waved his hands, gesturing to them to come closer. 

The human chuckled. 

“You serious?”

“Dead serious.”

"Dead is right." The plumarian snorted.

Magnus planted his feet and waited for them to come to him. When the human lunged, he dodged sideways. His antennae quivered, tracking the faint shift in the attacker’s stance. Without thinking, he spun, planting a kick into the back of the alien’s knee. They stumbled with a grunt.

“Lucky shot,” he said, charging. 

Magnus sidestepped again, faster this time. He turned on a single toe, almost like a dancer, rammed his wide hips into the man's side and knocked him to the ground. 

“Fuck this.” The human spat.

“Oh, I see, cowards, huh? Only tough guys when your mark is a weakling.” Magnus spat. “Get out of here before I hurt you.”

The plumarian looked ready to lunge again but thought before of it. The human got to his feet and the two of them disappeared, cursing under their breath as they went. 

“Magnus?”

The voice made him freeze. What were the odds?

“Zender?”

The Andite man smiled weakly as he got to his feet unsteadily. He wobbled, and before he could stop himself, Magnus caught him.

“Thanks…all that stuff you said about being a bounty hunter…it was true, wasn’t it?” Zender said in awe. “I thought you were just trying to push me away.”

“I was,” Magnus said after a moment. “But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment before Zender finally spoke.

“I don’t suppose you could walk me back to the shop?”

His face was so innocent and terrified that Magnus felt guilt stir within him for the first time. The realisation was setting in now: Zender really was just a good person who wanted to help. 

“Yeah, alright.”

They didn’t speak again until they reached the shop. Zender sat down on the couch with a deep sigh, rubbing at his chest.

“You should let me look. Your rib might be fractured.” 

“Do you have medical training?”

“I’ve had fractured ribs.”

“...close enough.” 

Zender winced as he unzipped the top half of his body suit and again when he looked down and saw the bruises. Dark green mottled his chest, and Magnus felt an odd flutter in his own. Any stretch of the imagination didn't chisel Zender, but he was athletic, and Magnus found his eyes kept getting distracted, admiring his physique. 

“Well, nurse, will I live?” 

The joke sent heat rushing through Magnus’ body, and he quickly looked away.

“Nothing broken. Lucky. Bit of ice, and you’ll be good as new.”

“Good to hear.” Zender zipped up his shirt again, and Magnus was oddly grateful and annoyed by the action. “So, where did you end up staying?”

The first rule of a good lie: don’t hesitate. Magnus was an excellent liar most of the time. Yet he froze, embarrassed to admit the truth. That split second of hesitation was all it took, Zender’s brow knitted together in concern, and Magnus knew he wouldn't believe it if he lied now. 

“I’ve been sleeping in an alley.”

“What!?”

“It’s fine, everything about this planet is so soft, the alleyways are comfier than half the motel rooms I’ve stayed in on stations.”

“Then I think you need to raise your standards. You’re staying here.”

“But-”

“No argument.”

Magnus pouted. 

“You know, most people who spoke to me like that in my old life, I’d break their fingers.”

Zender met his gaze and then offered his hand.

“Go on then.”

Magus scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I take back everything I said about you being nice, you’re an ass.”

Zender just laughed. 

“I’ll get the blankets.

~

The two of them found a strange new routine. Magnus slept on the couch, Zender made breakfast, and each day, Magnus would stomp off to the gym to keep up his training. Zender would work in the tailoring shop before meeting up for dinner. Magnus was determined to treat the man like a roommate, but slowly, things began to slip. He’d sleep late and end up drinking warm tea next to Zender in the shop while he worked. He started leaving the gym before closing because he’d simply gotten bored. The more he tried to force his new body to be his old one, the less enthused he became about the idea, yet he kept it up out of pure stubbornness. 

He sat against the gym wall one afternoon, nursing his bruised fingers. He’d taken out his frustration and conflicted feelings on the makeshift punching bag to the point of exhaustion and didn't feel any stronger. He could fight fine now, but fine wouldn’t get him far in the bounty game. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

“Maybe I’m making excuses to stay…” he muttered. “I bet somebody on Thebe could help me train now. Plenty of lady hunters who’d get a kick out of it.”

It would be simple: pawn a few of the outfits Zender had given him for the ticket, and he could be on his way back to Thebe within the day. Back to bounty hunting, on the cold, soulless station, hunting bounties, with no real friends to speak of and artificial light. Where things made sense or used to, at least, Magnus tried to hype himself up, but the more he tried, the more he found himself looking for excuses to stay. 

“Would you like to join us?”

The voice broke his reverie, and he looked up to see one of the Andite women who frequented the gym offering him a hand up. 

“We’re about to start our class. We really should have invited you sooner.” She continued. “I’m Della.”

“Magnus.”

“Odd name.”

“That’s a rude thing to say to somebody’s face.”

The woman gave him a wry grin.

“You’ve been rude since you got here.”

Magnus grinned back and took her hand. He liked this one. Maybe that’s why he took her hand and let her lead him over to the group, laying out their mats. Whatever this exercise routine was, it was like a mix of dance and yoga. He felt heat rising to his cheeks as they started the first stretch, but as he looked around, Magnus realised…nobody cared. His ass was in the air, his fingers brushing his toes, but every other woman was in the same position. They jumped and swayed together, pushing out their chests, and Magnus felt himself falling into the rhythm. He became aware of his own body in a way he hadn't since that night on the ship. For the first time, he was hyper-aware of his breasts, pussy and other feminine qualities, but they weren't a hindrance. In fact, they felt nice. 

He turned, copying the moves with surprising grace. He balanced on his toes easily, shifting his new, lower centre of gravity. Each slow movement seemed almost perfectly designed to show off his body. He stretched his long legs, wiggled his butt and shimmied his chest with the best of them. Even his skin-tight bodysuit couldn’t keep his curves from bouncing as he went. Andite men passed by the glass windows; nobody stared but Magnus could feel the eyes on him. Heat burned through his body, wet and delicious. 

His blood pumped in his veins and his mind conjured images of Zender which he struggled to dispel. Still, when the routine was over, he felt more limber and relaxed than he had in months. There was no muscle ache from a tough workout, his lungs didn't burn from over exhaustion, his feet didn't ache, Magnus had never left the gym feeling so invigorated. 

“You’re a natural.” Della grinned. 

“Thanks, it was…nice.”

So when he returned the next day, he didn't bother setting up his punching bag. Instead, he joined Della and the others in their class. When they invited him to go out for lunch afterwards, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. So did sitting down with Zender each night for a meal. So naturally, Magnus hadn't realised their positions at the table had slowly changed. Now they sat next to each other every night, knees touching, and he didn’t hate it. Life here was simple and slow, but was that really a bad thing? 

“How long are you going to keep training?” Zender asked one night at dinner. “You’ve been at it for weeks.”

Magnus chewed slowly. The truth was that by the time Zender asked the question, he hadn't used that punching bag in weeks. 

“I…think I am done training. For now.”

“Well, if you’re sticking around…I could use some help in the shop.”

A bounty hunter turned tailor’s assistant. It sounded utterly stupid.

“Sounds good.”

Zender put his hand on Magnus’s knee. Magnus pretended not to notice, and that night, as he lay on the couch, he had to fight every impulse he had not to touch himself while thinking about it. With that one touch, Zender had crossed some sort of line. 

As they lived and worked together, Magnus could feel himself slowly going mad. His nipples would stiffen when Zender smiled, and his pussy would get wet when their hands brushed; it was so embarrassing. To know that he had feelings, maybe more than just physical ones too, for such a soft, gentle man was downright humiliating. Despite that, though, Magnus wanted him. No matter how hard he tried to deny it. 

His dreams started to betray him, and he woke in the middle of the night with a cold sweat down his back and wetness between his thighs. His pussy burned with need, and fleeting images of green fingers brushing along his breast still lingered in his mind. Magnus balled his hands into a fist.

“Fuck it.”

What was the point of beating around the bush; he was an adult, dammit. A green-skinned woman, but an adult nonetheless. If he had been turned on in the past, he’d never hesitated; it was stupid to do so now. He threw off the blankets and marched down the hall, throwing open Zender’s door hard enough that it slammed against the wall and woke him.

“Agh! Wha-Magnus? Is everything okay?”

“Why have you never come to join me on the couch?” He asked, point blank. “Do you not find me attractive?”

Zender’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he found his voice.

“I didn’t want to take advantage of you.”

“I kicked the asses of those two guys beating you up.” 

“Yeah, but…when you first got here, you seemed pretty sure I was trying to coerce you.”

“Yeah…why haven't you?”

“Because it would be wrong?” Zender shook his head. “I thought you understood that things work differently here, Andites, for the most part, just don’t think that way.”

“One of the building managers I met did.”

“Well, I don’t!” Zender threw up his arms in frustration. “Why are we having this conversation at 3 am?”

“Because I’m horny, and you haven’t made a move.”

Zender’s mouth opened and stayed that way for a good while.

“...Oh.”

The silence stretched on, and Magnus rolled his eyes before unzipping his body suit and stepping out. He held it between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before dropping it to the ground and placing a hand on each of his hips. Zender just watched with eyes wide as plates, looking up and down Magnus’ naked body.

“Well?” Magnus asked.

“Well…what?” Zender croaked.

“Oh, for god’s sake. Do you want to fuck me or not, Zender?”

“...Yes, please.”

Magnus snorted with laughter; he sounded so timid and cute. He couldn’t help but find it endearing. He crawled up the bed and into Zender’s lap, his antennae twitching in anticipation. His heart thundered with excitement and anxiety; this would be his first time with another person since becoming a woman. He wasn’t sure what to expect. 

They started slowly, a gentle, almost chaste kiss. Zender pushed forward slightly and their lips parted, tongue’s danced and before Magnus knew it he was pressing his body hard against the man. His breasts crushed against Zender’s chest, nipples tingling as the skin rubbed against them. He could feel Zender’s cock beneath the blankets trapped between them and his pussy quivered. 

Zender’s hands brushed up Magnus’ sides before slowly pushing them apart enough to cup his breasts. Magnus groaned; it felt so much nicer having somebody else's hands touch them. He let his own hand drop between them, finding the tip of Zender’s green cock and circling it with the soft pad of his finger. 

“Oh fuck.” Zender whimpered.

“Don’t go cumming early now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Magnus grinned and bit into his shoulder hard enough that there would be a mark left. Zender shuddered, moaning in both pleasure and pain and Magnus licked over the indents his teeth left.

“That’s for the snark.” he whispered huskily, ripping away the blankets so there was nothing between them. 

Their eyes met and Magnus felt exposed, his chest rose and fell rapidly as his heart continued to race. He was poised in Zender’s lap, right above his cock. It was now or never. Magnus chose pleasure; he sank down and impaled himself on Zender’s length. They both gasped in pleasure and for a few moments they sat together, joined and frozen in shock before finally Magnus managed to move.

He started slowly, rising and falling so that he could feel every inch of his new pussy as it stretched and squeezed Zender inside it. God it felt…Magnus didn't have the words. He could only moan and speed up as he got closer and closer. Zender bucked his hips to meet him, gripping Magnus’ hips so tight his green knuckles turned white. 

Magnus could feel his curves jiggling as he bounced on the cock. The pleasure was building but then seemed to double as his sensitive antenna tangled with Zender’s. His body kept moving out of pure inertia as the ecstasy overwhelmed him. He was somehow right on the edge of orgasm, the pleasure stretched out, keeping him right on the edge to the point of torture. He could feel Zender’s antennae twisting around his own, pleasuring them until Magnus saw white. 

Orgasm rocked him and Magnus felt his body squeeze so tight that Zender couldn’t help but follow. They gasped and fell sideways into the bed, still intertwined and overwhelmed in the afterglow. Magnus couldn't find the words. He’d had plenty of sex before, good sex too, but nothing like that. When they finally did pull apart, Zender threw the blanket over them both and pulled Magnus close. A loving hand stroked over his face and Magnus felt more at home than he had anywhere else in the world. Zender smiled kindly in the darkness. 

“Guess you won’t be using the couch from now on.”

“You’re not going to kick me to the curb now that you’ve finally fucked me?” Magnus said, only half joking. 

He expected Zender to roll his eyes or tell a joke back, but instead, he reached out to tenderly cup Magnus’ face. 

“You really did have it rough, didn’t you.”

“Don't go all mushy on me after one kip in bed.”

“No, I mean it. You were joking then, but I could tell part of you expected me to actually do that.”

Magnus resisted the urge to squirm. This wasn't what was supposed to happen after sex. After sex you laid there for a bit, maybe shared some dry banter, then one of you got up and left. It was simple, easy to understand. Why did Zender have to make everything more complicated, and make him feel so…different? 

“Look, I was a bounty hunter, a male bounty hunter I’ll remind you. Attachments weren't exactly encouraged by the job.”

“I guess, but…you don’t have to do that again if you don't want to.”

“Of course I want to.” Magnus lied. “It was my life.”

“Was?”

“...shut up. Let’s go to sleep.”

Magnus rolled over before Zender could argue. His heart was pounding in his chest from some unidentified mixture of emotions: nerves, embarrassment, shame…he didn’t understand any of it. He forced his eyes closed and breathed a sigh of relief when Zender stayed silent. Tomorrow morning they could fuck again. Maybe then Zender would play along.