No sex; just hints at it. Lots of nakedness, lots of physical contact, it's all in a Martian settlement, no room for shyness.
Body Shop
"I want to buy one of your slave girls."
"Wonderful! We have a very fine selection, for all tastes! This model just in from Venus, has skills in cryptography, cybernetic systems and fellatio."
Way to lay it out there! The girl though, looked ok, not exactly to my taste but shapely like all Venusian women. It's their diet of cultured yeast and native vermiculan, full of hormones, makes them develop early. She had pale hair, wispy and almost transparent from all that time in pressure suits, no sunlight. Her skin wasn't the pasty-pale of the sun-deprived because she was naturally dark. Narrow hips, you couldn't survive on Venus if you couldn't fit into the suits. Her tits bulged just that extra bit that helped them hang down against her ribs like they would spill over with just a little effort.
And that mouth! A lifetime sucking down the worms that passed as food on Venus, gave her a perpetual O-face, pouty lips just begging to have something stuffed in there. That prehensile tongue peeked out, moving with a life of it's own.
I just stared for a bit, lips were definitely one of my soft spots. Heh. Hers too!
But not for me, not gonna work out in a machine shop. Which was my real goal.
"Anything in a mech-tech?" I owned a repair shop and wanted mechanos for some routine jobs. Took half your time just keeping mechs lubricated, doing joint maintenance, updating software. They could do it for one another except they weren't allowed, the AI laws forbid it.
"Yes! A Martian crawler maintenance third, logged a thousand hours at Hellas Mining! Stamina like a beast! Keep you gasping for hours!"
She had that sparkly skin that all Martian girls had, growing up in all that sand, embedded in her skin from a lifetime of exposure to sandstorms. I'm sure she was warm and silky inside where it counted, but you'd have to get past that crust first.
Looks like she has good lungs, a barrel chest to breath the thin terraformed Martian atmosphere, that accounts for the stamina. And here on Deimos she'd not get the bone problems they got on Earth, not built for high gravity, she'd just buckle there.
As if I could live on Earth! Mortgages that would take somebody like me three regens to pay down. If I could stand the gravity either, which I couldn't.
She seemed to be thriving, happy and settled. Her torso expanded and contracted rhythmically, just breathing with those accordion-ribs made her small mammary charms move in the most distracting way. The light made them twinkle as they moved, even her nipples had embedded silica, glittered like a vid-girl's.
She smiled at me, her stiff lips creased, pleased at my build I guess. I'm a 'roid-bred man, spidery they say, long arms and legs, prehensile feet from negotiating negligible gravity during my formative years among the asteroid belt habitats. I smiled back but gave her a pass.
"Something more commercial, not industrial?" Mining crawlers were bulky mechs, monsters. Mine needed a careful hand with all their tiny parts, like clockwork.
"I do have a wire monkey, very trainable, uploaded on all station connections and harnesses, able to negotiate the smallest tubes."
Wiring was half of the job with my mechs. Maybe she would do. A tiny woman, agile arms and fore-shortened legs, tiny hands and feet for the finest work. A long, long neck allowed her to look in any direction, important when there wasn't room to move around in the narrow wiring-ways and service tubes.
"What's her genes look like?" She had a twitch in one eye, I just noticed it now as she turned her head halfway around to peer at me, clutching a spar in one hand and grooming her crotch absently with the other, picking stray station-lice from her flaming red bush and crunching them in her slash of a mouth. Uncurious, thoughtless, just existing in the moment, happy to be here, to be anywhere.
"Funny you should ask!" That was never a good beginning, now she'd tell me it was a meta, not cleared for reproduction, at the end of her gene line, her telomeres eroded by stray alpha.
"Just refurbed! New lining, DNA extensions, proteas treatment! Her former owner kept his harem well maintained, only rode them on special station-holidays."
What a salesman! Did she think I was a rube? That line was old when I was in the womb. A refurb title meant resale value was negligible, nobody would touch that piece with a ten-meter probe! The former owner probably rode her forty hours a cycle, and yes, I could see her nips were stretched and chewed, like she'd had a dozen cubs sucking.
A pity, I liked the littler ones, they were always so quick. Those clever hands!
"If that's all? I'll be on my way."
She looked alarmed, needed a sale, her body shop was not one of the big names, an indie trader. Probably owed on her O2 bond, desperate. Could I use that?
"You haven't seen my premium stock!" She smiled a nervous smile, waved me to a hatch, another compartment back there? Wouldn't hurt to look.
I stalked to the hatch on my long legs, ducked inside, she was close behind.
Here there were stalls, refurbed lockers really with the doors removed, meant for old-style pressure suits but now each containing a slave girl on a seat. Flickering plasma lights played across their features, making them look exotic and new.
The first was not really premium, just young, fresh from the vats. Full-grown, downloaded with the standard wetware but with a confused look like all newbs, still absorbing the world, everything new to her. Skinny as fuck. Receptive language skills and full motor coordination, but little else.
Did I want the trouble that came with a new model? None of the glitches worked out, have to tape her in mech-skills myself. I could do that, I had an old tape unit, used it on myself from time to time to keep current. Hm.
"Spillover from Starlight! They overbred, sold off the surplus at a discount, my savings passed on to you!"
Starlight bred their own showgirls, geisha dolls, service models and actress blanks, a luxury relaxation station for the wealthy. Operated their own vats, it saved on haulage, import duties.
This one looked like a service model, standard layout, wide-eyed, innocent. Four fingers and a thumb, bipedal with the normal three toes. Meant for cleaning and sales, selling blunts and scrubbing bunks. Pleasant looks but no special features, a utility design, just light housekeeping and occasional mating with bored customers.
The shop owner was showing off her features, lifting her limbs, stroking them. Pulling her legs apart, showing her fresh down, the hair barely grown in. She startled, not used to being pawed over, clearly never put into service, resisting gently, urging hands away. Huddling on her seat, eyes darting every direction, settling on me. Looking at me.
"What do you want for her?"
She named a ridiculous price, casually, knowing she wouldn't get it but had to start somewhere.
We went back and forth, I brought up my taping costs, getting her shots, her upkeep compared to a purpose-built girl, this one would grow to have some meat on her so she'd go through the calories.
She kept banging on about fresh meat and un-tasted tits, really going for the lech-sale, wanting me to want her because she was a virgin. Just because I am a man, a slave isn't all about sex for me. I resented the assumption but kept it to myself.
Twice I pretended to lose interest, had her show me some of the other 'prime stock'. The breeding doll in the next locker, perpetually horny and hips like a space-tug, tits that could suckle a half-dozen brats at a time. A Jupe, all thick thighs and abs like synth-steak, rippling in the low gravity. She'd likely break my neck without noticing.
A T-rat, a hybrid from Outbound, what she was doing here I'd never know. Three-fingered hands and feet, just more hands really, I pretended interest because she'd be a whiz with tools but not really feasible, her upkeep wouldn't pay in my line of work, needed special methane feed.
I sighed, like I was out of patience, ready to leave. Stopped by the first stall again, an afterthought, maybe I could do something with this one?
"Got her papers?" Like it mattered, I wasn't looking for pedigree, just help around the shop.
"Crypto signed with a Starlight cert chain!" She was proud of that.
The newb was still looking at me, had followed me with her eyes the whole time I was browsing the other girl-flesh. Curious. Maybe the first man she'd seen, ripe out of her shipping pod. The first time for everything, for her.
