The Solarpunk Deck

"Psst! Mood Light!" I hiss at one of the newer pod workers. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but hastily touches the deactivation point behind her right ear. Every time The Stimularium introduces a new piece of tech, there's always a few of us that act like it's an imposition.

In my opinion, Mood Lights are a perfectly reasonable way to ensure that everyone is enjoying themselves. Discreetly attached to the neural feedback port at the base of our spines, it operates on a "green means go, yellow means slow, red means stop" system, allowing the supervision software to identify and prevent fatigue in the pods. I'm sure that she just forgot, being hurried into the meeting hall at the last second with the rest of us, but one of the assistants would surely notice the red light glowing between her thighs, and I'm not in the mood for another lecture about "respecting the tech".

"Gather together by assignment, please. This won't take long," Orsa yells from the front of the meeting hall. Standing on a platform high above the rest of us, the boss snaps her head back and forth, waiting for the crowd to assemble. She's in her regular outfit, a navy blue, skin-tight dress, with just enough shimmer to catch the eye. Her grey hair is pulled up into an intricate top knot, making her sharp features even more severe. The rest of the pod workers fill the back of the vast grey room while the leading members of each pleasure deck climb the small staircases to their platforms just below the boss.

"Company, eyes up front!" a voice booms. One of Orsa's bodyguards effectively quiets the chatter so the meeting can begin. Lights overhead dim and a hologram of our corporate logo buzzes into focus.

"Here you will see a variety of implants and modifications that we expect to see coming through the doors as early as today," Orsa uses her biowatch to flip through a bunch of new phallus designs from NuPine - nothing I haven't seen through their weekly updates.

Orsa sighs excessively, then continues, "I am required to remind you to add these designs to your Incompatibility List if you choose. To do so, stop at the support kiosk on your floor before starting your shift today. As always, Safe and Sound..." she points at us, and we finish the company slogan with enthusiastic harmony.

"Fun All Around!"

Orsa leaves her platform and the lights return. Everyone heads to their workstations, including me, making my way towards Pod A. It's not the most glamorous of assignments here, but it beats the conspicuousness of the lower pods. As I arrive, I take a seat on the wooden bench beside my personal unit and undress quickly, tossing my t-shirt and jeans into the cubby before scanning my face for entry. The frosted glass parts silently and I step inside.

I've grown quite fond of this egg-shaped room. It's lined entirely with crushed pink velvet - a halo of hanging plants dangling from a high ceiling. The vines are so long now that they reach the ground in some places. Sunshine falls through the round skylight, making my plant friends glow. Today's sky looks promising. It would be nice to watch a few clouds roll by during my shift.

"Welcome, Miss Juniper," chirps my AI supervisor.

"Good morning, Zaz. Initiate setup please, I'm running a little late today." I give the computer my verbal cue to activate my pod lounge. Mechanisms slide effortlessly as it opens up from the floor like a giant chrome lily, revealing a pillowy center. I plop my bare ass down in the middle and set each of my legs in the petals to either side. With my weight added, the chair gently swivels and reclines before feeding my lower half through the client portal. I love this part. Dull electricity from the barrier zaps at my skin, starting with my toes. The warmth creeps up my calves and thighs, feeling especially sharp over my hips and across my pussy lips. Once the lounge clicks into place, I quickly tap on my Mood Light and attach the lounge chair's electrode band around my waist.

"All set, Zaz," I give verbal confirmation that I'm now accepting clients.

Hardly a minute passes before I hear the whoosh of the client door opening. "Oh yeah, that's nice," a gruff voice bellows past the barrier. Something (presumably clothing) hits the floor and I feel rough hands on my inner thighs. I've been trained well, and I know not to speak unless I'm asked, but a whimper escapes my lips as an absolutely massive cock splits me open with little warning.

"You like that, huh?" my client asks, grinding their lubricated pelvis into mine.

"Yes," I cry. They're huge. I stare wide-eyed in the direction of the intrusion, but there's nothing to see but the shimmer of the forcefield around my waist. A video request along with the client's name appears up on the camera display above the portal, and I accept verbally, allowing one-way video feed of my upper body to become available to the client, with my appearance digitally altered, of course.

"Good slut," they grunt, pulling their cock out of my body before slamming it back in. I bite my lip, and look towards the camera above the portal. "You look so damn good bouncing off my dick like that." They pound into me hard and I start to gush, only increasing the intensity of my client's strokes. I feel hands pulling at my hips, but the electrode band around my waist keeps my top half securely out of reach.

"You're so big," I moan.

"You should see how green your pussy is right now," they respond between thrusts. "Now, say my name while you beg me to cum for you." Doing as they ask, I plead with the camera lens, using their name over and over until the thrusting slows, but the intensity remains. I whine and nod with every penetration until I finally feel them pull out. My client groans loudly and grumbles something indiscernible as warm semen pools on my lower abdomen.

I feel a hasty kiss on my kneecap and the rustle of clothing before they yell, "Thanks!" over their shoulder on the way out. After the doors close, I initiate cleaning procedures - an industry standard cleanse of saline and spermicide between each client.

"Sheesh, he was a rough one," I say to Zaz, "I'm going to need a minute before you send the next client in."

"Actually, Miss Juniper, I received a message 1.268 minutes ago that you should report to Pod A's support kiosk for a special assignment immediately. Shall I initiate wrap-up?"

"Um," I start. None of my friends had ever mentioned special assignments. "Confirmed...I guess."

Back in my street clothes, I scuttle to the support kiosk which is typically surrounded by pod workers depositing their chits or submitting union reports. Now, there is only one figure standing near it. Dressed in a similar manner to the boss, one of Orsa's assistants motions for me to follow as I approach.

"You'll be on the Solarpunk Deck," the cold-eyed woman wastes no time, speaking and walking very quickly. "Before you congratulate yourself, you were next in line for a promotion anyways." She clicks down a hallway and grants us access to the executive elevator, continuing her speech as the doors close. "Unfortunately, deck orientation was yesterday, so we won't have time to remove your tech. Just deactivate it for now. The special assignment begins in one hour."

The elevator stops and the assistant takes off again. "What is the assignment, exactly?" I question my coworker, struggling to keep up with her while simultaneously deactivating my neural feedback port with a series of taps. She scowls at me and continues down the hallway.

"We have a high profile client coming to us from off-planet. He will require a...delicate touch." She goes on to tell me that he's suffered some sort of considerable injury, and is in need of some accommodation before returning to orbit. The assistant didn't have any extra details about what I should expect, but she explained the toll that space can have on the body, and what sort of limitations I might encounter. "Based on your client reviews, you'll have no trouble." She stops at a keypad and scans her biowatch for entry, stepping aside as the doors to a small transit bubble open. "This will take you to the Design Wing. The Stimularium thanks you for your cooperation," she waits for me to take a seat in the transit bubble, and, with an off-putting smile, she closes the door between us.

I let my excitement take over for a moment as the transport hums along. I've pictured my promotion a hundred different ways (none of them quite like this) but this assignment is my one-way ticket out of the pods. Finally.

I feel the transit slow to a stop. The doors open to a colorful warehouse filled with dozens of artisans. They buzz between islands of creativity with tethered holocarts overflowing with every conceivable material. I step into the space and an AI hologram buzzes into focus right in front of me. "Name!"

"Juniper Skai, Union Number 96J27," I respond quickly and clearly.

"Follow the blue line," the AI commands.

A neon blue line appears on the floor under my feet before the hologram fades, and I take off in the direction indicated. I pass by standalone fabrication rooms and a few other design studios before the line on the floor takes a sharp turn.

"Aren't you a pretty one!" yells a voice as I enter the studio for Solarpunk Deck. A heavyset black woman appears from behind a rack of clothing with a fabric measuring tape hanging around her neck. I smile and bow my head respectfully.

"When they said they were bringing up a podder, I was expecting another dead-eyed canvas," she moves a section of my hair behind my shoulder, "but with these copper curls and that brown skin... we'll need to do this styling on the fly." With a few taps on her biowatch, a team arrives, whirring around me for the next hour. They take measurements and start whittling down dozens of different options of fabrics and metals.

As they curate my look, they tell me that I've been assigned to the Library Suite - decorated like an abandoned library, with vintage paper books and intricate stained glass windows. The team proudly describes everything they crafted for the room, from the marble pillars and wooden furniture to the rare flower terrariums and the floating daybed on the balcony. Overwhelmed by the details, I barely have a chance to visualize my new workstation before my styling is completed.

"Alright, people, let's give her a look!" calls the designer, clapping loudly. A hologram of my body appears in front of me, acting like a mirror as I move. Chunky brick red heels lead into ivory lace tights that end just below the hem of a miniskirt. The skirt is olive green and made from a comforting crushed velvet fabric, secured with a short row of wooden buttons above my hip. A cream-colored silk blouse with lace sleeves wraps around my torso, falling open slightly at my otherwise bare breasts. The outfit is tasteful and the colors make my skin absolutely glow. My curls are knotted into two loose braids, one under each ear. Dense eyelashes almost graze the gold filigree glasses they've given me to match the body chains hiding under my skirt and blouse. To top it all off, my lips are dark red which matches beautifully with my shoes, and my nails are painted gold. I've never felt more alluring in my life. The makeup artist encourages me to touch my face, proving the resistance of the makeup. They explain that the look can be applied and removed easily using the applicator mask that I'll find in my suite.

"Thank you for your expertise," I offer the team another bow of my head before following their directions to the employee entrances.

After clicking down a short hallway, the common area for the theme decks comes into full view. Decorated with hanging plants a hundred times the size of the ones in my pod, the cylindrical space is open to all four decks, with an impossibly tall waterfall draining into a fountain at the center. I follow the signs to Solarpunk Deck, using a brass elevator - open on all sides - to zip me up to the third level. I make my way around the deck until I see "Library Suite" written above one of the doors. The automatic door opens immediately as I move toward it.

"Welcome, Miss Juniper," I hear a familiar voice.

"Zaz?"

"Reporting for duty." I'm surprisingly relieved to have my AI with me.

Zaz shows me around my new preparation room: a comfortable space with a decompression chamber, a cleansing tub, customizable lighting, and a desk with my own personal support kiosk. "I hate to rush you, but my update to Deck Bot gave me access to real-time data, and your client is walking through the main entrance...now," chirps my computer.

"Thanks, Zaz. Can you show me the suite and suggest a good place to greet this special assignment?"

My request is confirmed and the door to the suite opens. I had pictured a deeply luxurious space after talking with the design team, but this room is even more exquisite. Sand-colored marble pillars hold up a domed ceiling, intricately carved and crumbling to reveal blue sky in a few places. My private entrance is set against the side wall, surrounded by bookshelves that curve around the room. A stained glass desk sits on a mossy platform to my right, with another door across from it - a natural point of first contact. I glide over to the desk, running my gold nails along the colored glass surface.

"Your client is here, Miss Juniper," chirps Zaz, unlocking the client entrance.

The heavy wood door swings open and a man steps into my suite - younger and taller than I expected, but wearing the tactical biowatch and standard issue casuals that I've seen on other members of the state's military. I avert my eyes before he notices me stare, bowing my head and introducing myself. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Juniper Skai, but you can call me Juni." I keep my head down as heavy footsteps move towards me.

"Thank you for finding time for me, Juni. I'm Philo." He says his name with a long vowel in the middle.

Boots appear in my field of vision just before my client's hand reaches out towards my face. His fingers brush against my jawline as a rough thumb presses into my dimpled cheek. My face tilts up and Philo's lips meet mine. I haven't kissed anyone in a long time, but the rush is just as delicious as I remember. He breathes me in, pulling at my very soul.

Our lips unlock with a smacking sound and my eyes flutter open. Looking over his features, I'm starting to feel almost nervous about this encounter. Dark hair surrounds his face, shaved short above his ears, but long and wavy enough at the top to fall into little points above his eyebrows. The tattoo across the bridge of his nose indicates that he's high-ranking as expected, but the small scars across his face and neck remind me about his injury.

A corner of Philo's mouth tilts up into a half-smile. "I take it they explained my...predicament," he says.

"I was asked to be gentle," I confirm.

"Tell you what," he scoffs, grabbing my ass in both hands and setting me up on the stained glass desk with a thud, "you be as gentle as you like." He drops to his knees, pushing my miniskirt up over my hips, and setting his face between my spread thighs. Small kisses sprinkle across my skin and I feel his warm breath against my center. Before I have a chance to respond, his tongue slides between my labia, drawing a line up to my clit. His mouth moves up and down my anatomy with a delicacy that is all too uncommon, testing every combination of flicking, circling, licking, and sucking until I start to drip with lust.

"Unbelievable," he whispers against my inner thigh before standing back up. My client takes a few steps away from the desk and asks me to continue pleasuring myself. I'm already soaking wet and my pussy is aching, so I'm happy to show off for him. I bring one hand to my breast and the other to my center. Sliding past my silk blouse, I begin pulling at my nipple and circling my clit, immediately noticing Philo react, flashing a handsome smile and breathing heavily at just the sight of me. I slide a couple fingers inside myself, moving them just the way I like. I press up against my g-spot while twisting my nipple, making myself gush. I peek over at Philo and see that he's on his knees, doubled over.

"Hey! Are you okay?" I hop off the desk and move to Philo. He lifts his head and I see that he's smiling, but his eyes are watering.

"Juni," he whispers, kneeling at my feet, "I need you to listen to me for a moment. Please."

My client brings his hands to his neck and starts releasing the metal clasps on his collar. Something feels... off. I could alert Zaz and have the response team here in seconds, but from the way he spoke, I think Philo knows that.

"I'm not the high profile client they sent you here to see," he finishes with the clasps and moves to the zipper. My heartbeat quickens as his shirt falls away. Scars appear on his torso, splattered like paint. "I'm not military, and I've never seen orbit, but my injury is very real." He stands up slowly, pulling off his boots and socks, clearly having more difficulty with one side. He unzips his pants and they fall to the ground. "I'm here because I need your help."

Philo steps out of pants and slides them to the pile of clothing he's collected on the floor. I haven't had anyone stand naked before me in far too long, but my lustful eyes still can't ignore the sheer magnitude of his injury. His left hip has clearly suffered the most, covered entirely with scar tissue. Bands of shiny white flesh lead across his stomach and chest, with smaller and smaller scars towards his face and opposite shoulder. He turns around to show me his back which is equally damaged.

"They put me back together, but there are certain...sensations that I thought were lost forever." He turns to face me again and I glance down below his navel. His manhood is large, but clearly reconstructed - much closer in color to the tan skin on his face than the scarred tissue around it. Philo holds his dick in his hand, stroking himself slowly. "I created an implant that can interpret biofeedback data from your neural port, and as of a few minutes ago, I can confirm that it works."

Philo chuckles, grabbing my attention. I see that he's staring down between my legs and I follow his gaze. My Mood Light must've turned green sometime during my contemplation, giving away my change of heart. "Fine, let's see what this invention of yours can do."

I tap off my Mood Light again and pull my wrapped silk blouse open, letting it fall to the floor. I make quick work of the buttons on my skirt and carefully slide it over the thin gold chains draped across my torso. I grab Philo by the wrist, taking him deeper into the suite.

A curtain of white and purple hanging flowers cascades over an arched doorway, and as we move through it, the balcony comes into view. Surrounded by a half-wall and dozens of thin marble archways that look out onto a simulated landscape, the space is beyond breathtaking. In the center floats a circular daybed that bobs up down gently. I remember the design team mentioning that it's held up by zero-g additions to the underside.

Barely shifting as I climb into the center of the daybed, Philo follows close behind me. He asks me to take off my heels and thigh-highs, leaving only my metallic adornments. I lay down in the pastel sheets and adjust my braids.

Starting at my feet, my client touches every part of my body, rolling over my ankles and shins, squeezing both calves and caressing the back of my knees. I sigh gently as he bends my legs and sets himself between my spread thighs, sitting back on his feet and hooking my legs over his hips. Philo cradles my lower half in his lap, tracing lines on my thighs and following the gold chains around my torso. As he leans in to kiss me, I feel his cock press against my lower abdomen.