Omicron Six and Rho Fifteen

She tapped her short-trimmed nails impatiently on the edge of her tablet, glanced at the clock, then around the room. It was a small space, bare, and white -- just like everywhere else. Everything was white here, everything made from the ubiquitous milk-white resin.

There were eight in her study group, all focused on their tablets, some sitting erect and square in their chairs, others cross-legged. Sig neglected his chair altogether and stooped over a table in the corner, swaying with his usual nervous energy.

They were all the same. The same white coveralls. The same short, tight haircuts. The same slippers. The same age.

The uniformity made the little differences stand out: shades of skin color, hair color, facial structure, body type, makeup, accessories. There was always a way to stand out, for those interested in doing so.

Omi frowned and looked down at her study functions. Differentiation was usually an engaging puzzle, but her mind wouldn't stick to the work at hand.

After a few minutes, her tablet chimed a gentle reminder: her appointment started in fifteen minutes. She took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Several heads turned her direction, and Beta gave her a knowing smile.

She stretched and stood.

"See you all tomorrow," she said, mustering confidence.

There were murmured polite goodbyes. Sig waved in her direction but didn't look up from his work. Beta gave her a big grin.

Omi turned on her heel and left the room, coveralls swishing, slippers squeaking quietly against the resin floor.

Excited, nervous, eager, anxious -- she worked through her counting exercises as she made her way through the corridors. When she found the right door she half-hoped it wouldn't open.

She was relieved when it did.

The room illuminated as she stepped in, and the door clicked shut behind her. Immediately ahead of her, on the opposite wall, was another door.

There's the pod, she thought. She had seen it thousands of times remotely, but this would be her first time inside.

She looked around the room, and aside from having two doors, it was a standard bathroom unit: white, clean, and sterile. There was a toilet to the side, a locking cabinet, and a shower stall. Next to the sink was a small collection of toiletries. Beside that a full-length mirror, and a rack of fresh white towels.

"Hello Omicron Six," the soft voice of the Benevolent greeted her. "Thank you for arriving on time."

"Hi B," she replied, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"Rho Fifteen is on his way to the pod. You have one hour. Please enjoy."

"I'll do my best, B."

Ok, she encouraged herself. Piece of cake. No sweat.

She put her tablet on the counter and undressed.

With a practiced motion she unzipped her overalls from her neck to her navel, shrugged it off her shoulders and arms, and dropped the loose garment to the floor around her ankles. She shivered.

"Warmer, please."

The air shifted and warmed.

She quickly removed her underwear then scooped up her clothes, folding them neatly and putting them in the cabinet.

After a quick shower she toweled off and stood in front of the mirror, examining herself with a critical eye. She felt skinny and androgynous, with slim hips and small breasts. She had a flash of doubt and her stomach clenched. She had seen Rho and Beta together, and how he responded when he looked over her body.

Was this a mistake? She sighed. He was a beautiful man, and very experienced. She had watched him for months, and was enamored by the way he moved. She had been jealous when Beta picked him for her First, and started fretting about her own performance after watching them together.

Her stomach knotted and she focused on her breathing, counting as she slowly exhaled, pushing the buzz of anxiety out of her mind.

The Benevolent condoned.

Rho consented.

This how I want it.

She found a standard-issue cosmetics case amongst the toiletries. Her routine was practiced, efficient, and calmed her nerves: she didn't need much, just face cream and subtle lip and eyeliner for a little extra pop.

Satisfied with the results, she picked up her tablet and flicked to the monitor. Rho had arrived and was sitting naked on the platform in the middle of the room. She zoomed in on his face and found it kind and thoughtful.

Her skin flushed in anticipation, and she smiled to herself. She set down her tablet, straightened her posture in front of the mirror, and gave her nude reflection an encouraging thumbs-up.

Head high and shoulders back, she walked to the second door, opened it, and entered the pod.

Rho looked up, his eyes quickly appraising her figure before meeting her gaze. His full lips spread in an open smile. He rose from the platform and gave her a friendly nod.

"Hi Omi."

"Hey Rho."

Her cheeks went hot and she grinned: he was ready for her, and prominently so.

What a beautiful man, she thought.

The bell chimed as she lay quietly, wrapped in his arms.

"You have ten minutes," the Benevolent said. "Please clear the pod."

Rho sat up and looked down at her affectionately, smiling his brilliant smile. She watched him intently as he stood.

"Congratulations on your First, and thank you."

She nodded and smiled.

With that, he turned and walked out of the pod, the door to his changing room shutting behind him with a quiet click.

She stretched, pointing her toes and reaching over her head, then relaxed for another few moments.

Who was watching? She looked around the room, eyes scanning the ceiling and walls. They looked like everything and everywhere else in the city: translucent white panels, bonded together and glowing gently.

She waved her fingers in a vague goodbye to no one in particular and rolled off the platform to her feet.

In the changing room she was lost in her own thoughts. She showered again and used the toilet. No cosmetics. She put a pad in her panties before she got dressed, thanking the Benevolent for that particular piece of advice. Her education had been thorough.

The bell chimed.

"Hello, Omicron Six. Your time has expired. Congratulations on your first encounter. May you enjoy many more!"

Omi smirked. "Thanks, B."

She adjusted her coveralls to hang properly on her frame, ran her fingers through her short-cropped hair, and picked up her tablet. It pulsed with inbound messages, provoking the butterflies in her stomach. She entered the corridor and walked quickly to her quarters, avoiding the popular intersections where she might encounter someone she knew.

She wasn't ready to talk quite yet.

Her room configured itself as soon as she unlocked the door. The ambient light was low, and the wall screens were set to an endless pattern of slow shifting colors. Subtle white noise emanated from nowhere in particular, and the temperature increased a few degrees.

She tossed her tablet onto her bunk, removed her coveralls, and hoisted herself up onto the bed.

Omi lay flat, willing herself to sink into the pad. She closed her eyes and focused on her counting exercises until her heart resumed its normal slow beat.

"Ceiling, please."

The ceiling screen blinked to life above her, with an indication that her inbox had nearly a hundred new messages. She mustered her courage and gestured them open.

Most of them were from people she didn't recognize, as expected. She scrolled through the list until she found her guardians' names.

Omi!! We are so proud of you. Of course we watched. You were

great, and it looked like you enjoyed yourself. Rho Fifteen is a

handsome man! Almost worthy of your attention! Hah hah. We

love you. Let's celebrate your First!! Send us your thoughts

when you can.

She smiled.

She flicked her fingers, advancing through the messages. There were a few messages of congratulations from friends, including an emphatic NICE!!! from Sig -- short and sweet as usual.

Beta had written paragraphs of questions and opinions and well-meaning advice for her next encounter. She always wrote more when she was feeling insecure. It probably had to do with Rho. She sighed and moved on.

The rest of the messages were solicitations, and several more had arrived in the last few minutes. She felt flattered, but the volume was overwhelming.

"Digest my solicitations," she said quietly. The bell chimed in acknowledgment, and her inbox count went to zero. "Thanks, B."

She sighed and rested her hands on her belly.

"Ceiling off, please."

The ceiling returned to pale white. Omi stared at the blank surface, taking a silent mental inventory of her body.

Everything was fine. Her guts felt a little disturbed by Rho's enthusiasm, and her nipples ached slightly from overstimulation, but neither was unexpected. She slid her hand into her panties, seeking what remained of Rho's fluids.

She smelled her fingers and tentatively tasted them, musky and salty.

That was new. She smiled and tasted them again.

Self-play was a part of growing up, encouraged and guided from an early age by the Benevolent. As she had matured, so had her education and understanding of sex and intimate relationships. She had observed thousands of hours of encounters in the pod, the content tailored by the Benevolent, adjusted to educate and pique her curiosity.

She knew her First choice had been influenced by the Benevolent. Rho's good looks and gentle nature were why she picked him -- she knew all of this from watching his encounters. He was often suggested to young women who shared the same tastes, and was picked as a First for the same reasons.

Omi sighed happily, slid off her panties, and kicked them to the foot of her bunk. Her thoughts returned to her time with Rho, and her fingers returned to their gentle exploration.

"Replay my encounter, please."

The ceiling screen came back to life. The feed started the same every time -- an overhead view of the pod centered on the square padded platform. The date and time were displayed in the corner, along with her and Rho's names.

Rho entered the frame, climbed up on the platform, and made himself comfortable. His manhood was already half erect.

She gestured with her free hand and the view shifted to a lower angle, positioned behind Rho, and pointed at her door. Another gesture accelerated time, making Rho's movements choppy and abrupt. She watched herself enter the room, approach Rho, and the two of them join in the prescribed embrace, expressing consent for the audience.

Omi watched intently, occasionally pausing or slowing the feed, shifting the perspective, and zooming in to get more intimate views.

She watched herself handle his penis for the first time. In the feed she was wide-eyed and smiling, cheeks pink with excitement.

It was the first penis she had held. She was excited about the firmness of the shaft, the way the skin stretched and moved, feeling the subtle throb of his heartbeat, and the twitching of his muscles as she examined and caressed him. These things had been approximated by her baton, but only just, and only under her direction.

She liked the real thing more.

She shifted the perspective to his face. He was saying encouraging words and looked genuinely delighted with the attention he was receiving.

On her bunk, Omi's fingers slowly kneaded around the swelling bud of her clitoris, then dipped gently inside herself.

On the screen, Rho was particularly keen on her breasts, small as they were. Her nipples had grown stiff and tender between his fingers and under the warmth of his tongue. She indulged his delight until it reached the edge of pain, then gently pulled away from him.

"Okay," she remembered whispering.

She shifted the perspective to see what she couldn't at the time. The view moved between her thighs and centered on her sex. She watched as her fingers slid between the swollen lips, spreading them, preparing for what came next.

Omi's fingers mirrored what she saw on screen.

Rho momentarily blocked the view as he moved into position. She shifted the perspective again, finding a better angle from below: perfectly framing the head of his cock, bobbing just beyond her parted lips.

She slowed down the feed, fingers working either side of her clit now, breathing faster.

Omi watched as her hand entered the frame and guided him. He nestled into her folds for a moment, then pushed in gently. He paused again, then with two gentle strokes he pushed into her completely, their bodies meeting at the hilt of his cock. She rewound and watched again as their skin came together, moved together. She watched it several times, remembering the sensation, delighting in how her flesh enveloped his.

There was no pain. She had practiced as prescribed by the Benevolent. The baton had prepared her. Omi was thankful for that.

She paused the feed and zoomed out. They were in a traditional position, him atop of her. He was propped up on his hands and his legs were spread, pushing hers wider to provide access to the view she had been enjoying.

He was good at this.

She watched them together, memories still fresh and poignant, recalling the smell of his skin, the way his shoulder muscles moved, and the sensation of his cock stroking within her. She was focused on absorbing every detail of the experience, while he fondly watched how she responded and moved beneath him.

A few muted words passed between them, and Rho rose from his position. They exchanged places: Rho on his back, Omi straddling him. She eased herself down onto his cock, slowly settling her weight upon him. He stroked her thighs and wrapped his hands around her hips. She grinned and ran her fingers through the fine hair on his chest and stomach.

He was deeper than before, and she felt a pleasantly sharp twinge in her gut as head of his cock pressed against her cervix. She rocked her hips slowly, enjoying the shift inside and the additional stimulation on her clit. Her eyes closed as she found a slow rhythm. He looked up at her with a gentle smile and caressed her legs, stomach, and breasts as she quietly rode him.

In her bunk, Omi's breath caught for a moment as she watched the encounter. Her fingers were slick and working with an urgent purpose.

Slow down. Not yet.

Her body was practically vibrating from the mounting tension. She took a deep breath and willed herself to relax.

She gestured and sped through the next few minutes of the encounter. It had been intensely pleasurable in the moment, but she couldn't bring herself to orgasm with Rho; she had been nervous, knowing that others were watching.

That wasn't the case in her quarters.

After several accelerated moments, the figures on the screen returned to their original position. This was the part she was waiting for. With another gesture, the perspective returned to her crotch, Rho's engorged penis pressing against her thigh.

She heard her own laugh and gave him permission: "Go for it."

And he did.

He guided his cock into her, no hesitation this time, and started thrusting with urgency.

Omi was riding the edge, now. "Perspective please" she whispered, a strain to her voice, her fingers continuing their brisk work.

The view became her own from the encounter: Rho's face, looking down at her with purpose.

Her eyes locked onto his as her orgasm built. Rho's expression intensified, his jaw muscles clenching. His thrusts came harder and faster until his body went rigid, his weight bearing down into her, his pupils dilating. He let out a clipped groan, and the vein in his neck throbbed as he emptied himself into her.

Omi's orgasm crashed through her as she watched, her back arching, her breath catching, eyes glazed and focused beyond the screen as her body trembled with the electric pleasure.

She sank back down onto her bunk as her muscles unwound, and gasped to recover her breath. She gazed into Rho's eyes on the screen. He was smiling, his face glowing with sweat, recovering with her.

"That was nice," she heard her self say, then laugh. The Omi in the encounter was elated, excited about what had happened. Her First.

The Omi in her quarters grinned languidly and tasted her fingers again -- more her than him, now.

She ignored the post-coital small talk and gestured to change the perspective back to her crotch. She recalled the sensation of his spent penis shrinking and withdrawing from her, and when he finally dismounted, she watched as his cum emerged from inside her body.

She paused the feed.

"I am the origin of the world" she whispered to herself, recalling the first words of her Manual.

She considered her years of education and training and waiting. The eons of human advancement. The loss of the Earth, the Great Sterilization, and now the City.

She looked at the screen, examining the milky white remnants of her first encounter seeping from her.

All of that work, for such a strange thing.

She sighed and smiled.

"Screen off, please."