MARTIAN CONQUEST (Book 2, Adventures of Mari Shu)
By Jody Wallace
Release Date: October 2014
Genre: SFR + Erotic Romance Spoof
Length: 40,000 words
Rating: Adults with a sick sense of humor
From: Meankitty Publishing
Buy Links: Amazon, B&N, iTunes, Kobo, Smashwords
Add it to your Goodreads!
About the book: Mari Shu, a factory drudge in the year 4000-something, must choose how to protect her sisters, her purity, and her own conscience in a bleak futuristic society that’s been polluted by smog, rampant commercialism, tacky jumpsuits, sexual perversions, unjust socioeconomics, interstellar travel, and inconsistent use of the Oxford comma.
In this second jubilant outing, Mari Shu decides to desert Olde Earth for the unfamiliar comforts and sexual practices of Mars…and possible elevation to the elite Martian rover class.
Warning: Book contains offensive material. Buttloads of boatloads of offensive, vulgar, disrespectful, and possibly triggering material. Sexual, political, economic, racial, physical, typographical, religious—really, trying to hit all the big ones. Please make sure to sign your correct name to the hate mail so we can give proper credit in the follow-up volume entitled, “The Hate Mails to Mari Shu”.
Tropes: I think I covered them ALL.
Link to Mari Shu Main Page
Adventures of Mari Shu #1: Earthbound Passion.
Adventures of Mari Shu #3: Far Galaxies.
****EXCERPT FROM MARTIAN CONQUEST*****
From Segment 1, 1500 words
Mari Shu paced through their flat, eight steps north, south, east and west. She imagined Gerald Scumbag, the man who was supposed to do nothing but collect their rent and fix their appliances, violating her innocent sisters. Sexxoring them against the law. Which meant her sisters had broken the law, and their landlord knew it, and if she knew anything about morning puking, she knew it meant Cassie had wasted a lot of food.
Food they could have eaten for four more days. In an apartment they were about to lose.
And now? Now they were out of options.
If they became homeless, which they would tomorrow, they would either have to get jobs sexxoring to pay rent or allow themselves to be transferred by Olde Earth’s Relocation Commission, which could include anything from being sent to Venus, the moon, or a mysterious new planet in a galaxy far, far away that nobody knew anything about until this very sentence!
Yet if they applied for jobs sexxoring, which, as you know, Bob, Mari Shu had vowed not to do, Olde Earth’s Sexxoring Commission would expect all three of them to have intact vag seals.
But apparently only she, Mari Shu, had an intact vag seal. Thanks to Gerald Scumbag.
And also, she was quite hungry. Almost, she regretted the LabiCorp man’s offer of a blow job and a nutrient tube.
But Mari Shu’s choice, the right choice, was clear. She and her sisters would report to the Relocation Commission voluntarily in hopes of receiving a premium location. The idea of breaking her no knees vow to her grandmother and becoming a sexxorer was even less palatable than the grody goo tube Mari Shu didn’t get to eat for dinner tonight. What was on Olde Earth for her and her sisters besides pollution, misery, a lifetime of drudgery, and a transparent square of real grass they only got to see every other Sunday because it was in such high demand? Granted, the Parks and Rec Commission didn’t charge citizens to view the square, but it wasn’t the same as being able to touch or smell or even eat the grass.
Only people on Mars got to touch, smell or eat grass.
And maybe, just maybe, the Relocation Commission would consider Mari Shu and her sisters for placement on Mars, as drudges there instead of here. People on Mars needed drudges too. She’d heard Mars was particularly in need of women. By the far stars, at this point riots on the moon sounded better than trying to make a go of it as a sexxorer. She didn’t even know if one person could earn enough doing the sex to maintain their current standard of living.
Briefly Mari Shu considered blackmailing Gerald Scumbag into waiving their rent in exchange for her silence on the matter of his vag violations, but decided against it. He might call her bluff, and she didn’t trust him to honor any deals they made.
They would simply have to report to the Relocation Commission tomorrow. There was no way around it.
“I have some bad news, girls,” she said to her sisters, who were staring wistfully at the empty goo tubes. “We have to report to the RLC tomorrow. There is no way around it.”
“But Gerald Scumbag loves me,” Cassie protested. She placed a protective hand over her belly, probably to keep herself from throwing up that last goo tube. Mari Shu couldn’t imagine any other reason Cassie would instinctively guard her belly.
“Will he give us free rent?” Mari Shu asked. “We’re out of money.”
“No, I already asked, and when he refused me, I refused him,” Trish said. “Since then he’s concentrated on Cassie. But I’d like to hear from you why we’re out of money, Mari. This is the first mention of any credit issues. Do you think we’re too young to handle the truth? Or is the lack of money a new thing?” Trish crossed her arms and regarded Mari Shu with an unexpectedly steely gaze. From plot moppet to conscience in only a couple paragraphs!
“EvilCorp reduced our wages,” Mari Shu admitted, wishing she’d known about Trish’s narrative versatility earlier. “I no longer earn enough to keep us housed and fed each week.”
“But you’re a wonderful widgeter,” Trish protested. “You received a commendation from the Commendation Commission, also known as the CC Music Factory, last month.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Mari Shu slowly began to gather their few belongings, nothing that could be sold for a profit. The only thing they could sell was her body, but she was saving it. “Widgeters must be paid uniformly at each corporation, without merit-based variations, else our whole society would disintegrate into haves and have nots. It wouldn’t be fair, any more than it would be fair to help citizens who will not help themselves by maintaining a job, a home and peak physical condition.”
For a moment, Trish seemed as if she were going to continue her role as plot moppet slash conscience and adorably point out the logical fallacies in such a societal structure, plus the evidence to the contrary that existed in the previous story segment, but Cassie spoke first.
“We can move in with Gerald,” Mari Shu’s youngest sister insisted. “Or at least I can.”
Cassie tossed her dark, shimmering hair defiantly. Two years ago, when LabiCorp widgeter salaries had been higher, Mari Shu had gifted her sisters with spa packages at the Cosmetology Commission. Cassie’s package had morphed the formerly unfashionably blond and pale female into a short, orange-skinned, tiny-breasted example of human perfection who currently glowed with the aforementioned peachy-orange hue. Though Mari Shu had vowed never to waste credits on her appearance and continued to languish in hideousness, she couldn’t ask the same of her sweet sisters.
“Are there no cheaper flats anywhere? In any building in the North American District?” Trish asked. Trish had only wanted a partial spa package, and Mari Shu had to admit, the radiant orange hue of Trish’s skin contrasted interestingly with her medium brown hair.
“I already checked. Nothing below the eighty-first floor within walking distance of the factory. I can’t afford taxicrafts, so our choices are limited.” Mari Shu had vowed a couple things in her life—never to earn a living sexxoring and never to set foot on the eighty-second floor of the various apartment buildings allotted to Millioners and Billioners. “I don’t think any of us want to go above the eighty-first floor.”
“True,” Trish agreed. Even Mari Shu’s unsophisticated sisters knew about the depravity that lurked above the eighty-first floor of apartment buildings.
Floor seventy-seven, where they resided, was close enough.
“I don’t want to leave Olde Earth. You can’t make me,” Cassie said. “Gerald won’t throw us out.” Now she placed both hands on her stomach, which Mari Shu couldn’t help but notice seemed more rounded than expected, given Cassie’s delectably short stature and tiny breasts.
“Perhaps,” Mari Shu said, a sense of hope swelling within her at Cassie’s confidence. Her sister was incredibly beautiful. Were she and Gerald truly in love? Could Gerald be trusted, even though he’d already denied Trish’s request for a break on their rent?
Just then, their vidscreen pinged with an incoming message. It read:
Residents of floors 71 through 81 will need to pay a month’s rent in full tomorrow or seek other accommodations. Also, rent is now twice as much for residents of floor 77, which has 1000 flats on it, so I’m not singling out any particular flat. It’s because I upgraded the Wal-Marks on that floor, which is why I’ve been hanging out on 77 so often.
Sincerely, Gerald Scumbag
ArchiCorp Rep 798
Hope plummeted to the pit of Mari Shu’s heart like a ton of waste material thrown into the Pacific Ocean.
Cassie burst into tears that tracked down her orange cheeks like rivers of lava. She flung herself on her narrow bunk, where she kicked her feet and pounded her fists on the hard surface. “No, no, no, no!”
Trish’s flower bud lips tightened in a sad grimace. “I don’t like our available options, but I’d rather relocate off-planet than move to an apartment above the eighty-first floor. Cassie will come around. She’ll have to.”
That night, Mari Shu lay quietly on the top bunk, the hardest bunk, and listened to the stifled sobs of her dear sisters. Her stomach growled and pinched with emptiness.
Tomorrow they would leave the comforts and joys of the wasted, polluted planet that had always seemed like the only secure choice in the universe. To traipse so blindly into the unknown…was this the right move?
But what other choice did they have that wouldn’t break any of her vows? Her vows, her stubborn, stubborn vows, might ruin their lives. All three of their lives. The fresh start they’d be receiving from the RLC suddenly seemed darker and more dangerous than any depravity that existed above the eighty-first floor.
(c) Jody Wallace 2014