Mall ( hyper-herm, furry, futa/fem, futa/futa )

This is not a story of mine but i wanted to post this because i think this story is really awesome.

It't written by Doug Winger, maybe some people know him of his hyper herm art?

Chapter 1

It all started because some demented rich-bitch on Earth had wanted to fuck

her prized poodle.

The slim waif of a girl walked through the station, her footsteps a soft

padding on the carpet. She had entered several minutes ago after a

long,exhausting trip through the mind-bending otherness of hyperspace. The

transport pad she had landed on was old, a design long out of fashion. The

entire place seemed empty, and she imagined that only the ceaseless efforts

of cleaning robots kept it from being knee deep in dust and debris. The

walls still still gleamed, looking as fresh as the day they had been colored,

but many of the displays and light paintings on them had long ago failed into

uselessness. The presented a series of black rectangles, occasionally

interspersed with the still vibrant flair of color of a low tech painting or

print. The equipment in the carriers festooning her utility belt

rhythmically slapped her thighs and buttocks as she walked deeper into the

station, the slight sounds of the detectors carried in them sounding terribly

loud in the station's quiet hush. The colors around her contrasted with the

light mauve of her travel suit, being primarily browns and umbers, the

carpeting a rusty orange. No windows were in sight.

The girl, Kuppisnarashnava Rudalalenska by name, called Kuppis for short,

and Cupcake by her friends, stood middling height high, slim of build and

long of leg. She had the coltish look of a teenager. She seemed mostly leg,

the torso being not too voluptuous, her breasts still the perfect hemispheres

of youth. Her hair was pulled to the sides of her innocent looking face,

bound by twin metal circlets, in ponytails that defied gravity. Her wide

brown eyes peered about her, their color slightly lighter than the rich

walnut brown of her hair. She was not scared, but was understandably nervous

about her surroundings.

She stood on an artificial worldlet, named Mall in a moment of humor by its

designers. It was relatively old, but its very makeup showed technical

marvels. It was a thick crust of regular rock and soil over a core of a

burnt out star. Gravity at surface level was human norm, and it had an

atmosphere the matched the cleanest air of Earth in composition. It was a

mere 200 miles, old method, in diameter, and even had miniature oceans

covering about one quarter of its surface. Light came from a distant white

dwarf it orbited, but its heat was of an artificial nature. Huge gravity

engines derived power, using the incredible differential of attraction its

unique makeup provided. It was about old in history, but very young on a

cosmic scale, being finished only five hundred years ago. It was designed as

a way station and comfort stop for tra