Uranus Is a Lonely Place

Jamila shifted, slipping off his finger, and she smiled when he tasted it like usual. It was one of the details that put this suit head-and-shoulders above all his others. The eggs tasted right, and so did the women. Xyxxta pouted at him, sliding both her wet holes along his shaft, waiting for him to decide.

The front one was better for this position. Her tighter hole, the one he couldn't think of as her asshole. Wasn't as though he'd seen her use it for anything but sex, though of course you could have her do that if it was your thing.

Anyway, it was self-lubricating just like the rear one, and it lacked the internal walls and hidden teeth of the other. To him it felt more like an ordinary pussy, though it was almost too tight.

"That's right," Xyxxta cooed, as he pressed inside. "Just let Xyxx take care of you."

Jamila put a perky ebony breast in his mouth, and he happily suckled on it while he rocked back and forth inside Xyxxta. Three of Xyxxta's fingers had found Jamila's slit, and now Jamila slipped two of hers into Xyxxta's rear entrance.

It was too complicated a scenario to give his full attention. But sex on the run had its own familiar rhythm. Zero g most of the time, the freefall motions so familiar he could do it in his sleep, and sometimes had. Then that vital, heart-pounding instant of effective higher g, when he launched into the next leap. He kissed Jamila's boob one last time and turned his head forward. The suit was tough, but he was running a little behind schedule. At this speed a single big mistake could shatter bones or compromise the suit's seals. So he let Xyxxta take care of him, as she'd promised.

"You can use your teeth," Jamila said, and Xyxxta sighed happily, settling her mouth on Jamila's other breast. But of course those weren't the teeth Jamila meant. Alvar felt the rhythmic contractions of Xyxxta's muscles as her pussy nibbled on Jamila's fingers. In the process she squeezed Alvar's cock, too, though she could keep that separate if she wanted. And he was uncomfortably close to losing control.

"Hey, Xyxx, slow down a little," he said. He wanted to make this one last. Two hours left on the clock, and who knew how much work it would take to get his cock going the next round.

Xyxxta didn't reply, squirming deliciously against him, moaning into Jamila's breast. She teased him this way sometimes, taking him right up to the actual brink, using her muscles to hold him there perfectly until he couldn't stand it, and even beyond that. An exquisite torture, but he wasn't really in the mood today. Then again, even Xyxxta made mistakes sometimes. He planted his foot solidly and launched, then kissed her bald cheek, inhaling the powerful orange blossom odor that mixed so sweetly with Jamila's musk.

"Have to make this one count, when I can give you more attention," he told her. She pulsed around him, her tunnel pulling his cock in and out slightly all on its own. "Slow down, Xyxx."

"Xyxx, you should probably listen," Jamila chided, smiling at both of them. But then she yelped suddenly. Xyxxta must have chomped a bit too hard on her fingers.

Xyxxta's body began to shake, her muscles vibrating with a powerful orgasm. She made a rare, ordinary moan, then threw her head back to howl, and suddenly Alvar couldn't hold any longer.

The orgasm struck him much harder than he expected, and probably that was the point, but Xyxxta had miscalculated. He'd already been off position, and now he blinked tears from his eyes, desperately trying to orient his legs properly even as he poured his seed into Xyxx's howling, shaking body.

He hit badly, really badly, and pain lanced through his knee. The suit's emergency mode kicked in, stiffening to protect him, and the two shells vanished instantly, while fresh chemicals coursed through his system, flushing the aphrodisiacs and providing him a sharp, unpleasant focus. He ignored his knee and focused everything on the next landing, already eyeing the spot sixty meters ahead. He was tumbling slowly forwards, and he suddenly realized he couldn't make it. Alvar yanked his legs to his chest, the emergency tuck changing his rotational moment of inertia, spinning him much faster, nearly through a complete flip—

At the last minute he jammed his good leg out, kicking hard off a tilted boulder. The impact jarred his whole body, but he hadn't hurt himself further, and it'd been a near perfect correction, canceling the deadly spin. He'd gained forward speed as well, but with all his experience that was easy to control, even with one good leg.

Finally Alvar made his last hop, and he settled for a bumpy, safe landing on his ass.

His knee was still complaining, but the white-hot pain had abated, and the painkillers were handling it. Suit med diagnostics were starting to look reassuring. He'd have to be cautious for a while, but it wasn't a truly dangerous injury. In low g you could get by with one leg, or none for that matter. But it would slow him down. His job needed him on the move, and he was minutes behind schedule already.

If they'd sent along a proper rover, it wouldn't matter. But that slow piece of shit had fallen apart in two weeks, and the promised replacement had never come. After all, it turned out he could manage without it.

He gave a light shove with both hands, just enough to bounce him to his feet. The adrenaline and the temporary stimulant were slowly fading, and he shook slightly, knowing full well what a close call he'd had. When he started moving again, he kept his speed no more than a third of his usual. But it was still faster than he'd dared when he first arrived on Titania. Faster than any replacement rover was likely to be. Some Corporate algorithm had noticed his steady improvements and rewarded him by added more tasks each day. He hadn't really given a shit about that, but they wouldn't ratchet it the other direction, even if he was performing well above their original expectations.

That was the thing, though. Alvar was good, better than anyone he knew at adjusting to different gravities. Zero-g veterans were as common as Luna dust, but hardly anyone knew how to move in the no-man's land between zero and Luna. It was how he'd landed this job despite his spotty employment record, and his skill was the reason he didn't worry about distractions while he worked. Most everyone thought he was an idiot cowboy for using the suits the way he did, but Alvar knew his capabilities, and he didn't push the limits with shells who were too stupid to learn to work with him. Xyxxta and Jamila were two of his most reliable shells, so he'd better figure out what the fuck had just happened.

The suit was out of emergency lockdown, so he summoned Xyxxta and Jamila, grimacing as he flipped them into diagnostic mode and their faces turned slack and expressionless.

"Xyxxta, could you explain how you made such a big mistake?"

There was a pause. "Memory gap. Buffer flushed."

Of course. The emergency mode had overwritten everything, probably erasing the last memories of both active shells. He vaguely remembered that safeguard, some kind of rudimentary protection against malicious shells. Was that what he was dealing with? Some subtle virus from a recent download? He sure hoped it wasn't. He liked both these shells, and couldn't stand the idea of a factory reset.

Shells only had access to information he allowed. But before he showed them the footage, he had to take the unpleasant possibility seriously. He dismissed both of them, and started the deep scan to trawl through the thousands of shells, the immense memory stores of his suit and the shuttle's connected database. It would take most of the day, and he was stuck with passive entertainment until then. Alvar sighed and scanned through the latest shows, picking something nearly at random.

* * *

He finished his rounds ninety minutes late, and it would be worse tomorrow. It wasn't really such a big deal, as long as he got the work done. He had a near perfect job performance score, and the algorithm would cut him some slack as long as things returned to normal quickly, but there was only so much slack. The suit was a loan he could never repay, and they had him by the balls. Just as he'd known going in.

Back in the shuttle, he didn't even have his usual suspension of reality about the suit. Safe mode left its exterior fully visible, with entertainments playing only on a defined space of his visor. He lay back, discouraged, chewing the soft meal the suit fed to him. Even the food tasted bland, though that might be his mood rather than the suit's limited function.

Finally the results came back: Clean, totally clean. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and enabled proper function. The aphrodisiacs immediately coursed into his blood, and it'd been hours and hours. His dick went from zero to a thousand in a second, and he automatically called up the most recent shells. Two hours on the clock, and still four hours until it reset. But then he remembered, and quickly dumped the shells into diagnostic again.

"Are you in need of service?" Xyxxta asked, mechanically lifting her arm right through his suit to stroke his cock.

"Fuck! No, Xyxx, no, pure diagnostic mode." She dropped her hand immediately, standing next to Jamila with an identical expression. He'd forgotten some of these shells crammed extra functionality into their diagnostic modes, for people who got a kick out of it. Alvar had never been much into robotic sex. He struggled to remember what he needed.

"How much of your memories disappeared?" he asked Jamila.

"The entire last session," she replied. "It is a safety protocol."

He nodded unhappily. Their internal states were irretrievable, which meant he was stuck with whatever analysis these shells could make from suit videos. That was asking a lot from a shell, probably too much for almost any of them. He explained what he wanted, and then ran the tape. His dick throbbed heavily through the scene, but then he winced at the horrible landing.

Their expressions didn't change. As soon as the video ended, Xyxxta spoke. "All behavior of this shell is within parameter variance."

Jamila droned out the same statement, with an addition: "This recording shows a risky combination of activities. The natural range of uncertainty and human error can account for the consequences."

He groaned. That assessment hurt, coming from a shell, especially Jamilla. She was one of his smarter ones, and she understood physics inside and out. Not nearly as smart as Ysabel, but he wasn't ready for Ysabel to hear about this yet. Alvar had to admit the truth, that he might just be getting too old to be so reckless. But right now he was safe in his shuttle, and he had two hours left on the clock.

He switched the shells out of diagnostic mode.

"Oh, that was a naughty video," Xyxxta said, kneeling and taking his erection in her hands. "Want to finish what we started?"

He nodded, but his mouth was too full of Jamila to respond properly.

* * *

Clarissa's red bush tickled his nose, and as he woke his tongue was already exploring her sticky folds. God, she tasted good with this suit. Until last week it'd been a good five years since he'd summoned her, and now he cursed himself for lost time. He'd always loved going down on her, back when they'd been realtiming from his ship to her apartment on Titan. Up to a quarter second lightspeed delay, which for Alvar would've been enough to give up and use shells. But she'd hated fucking a shell, and he'd loved realtime with her, so they'd made it work. But it turned out he'd never even tasted her properly. He thought he had, but now he knew better.

She'd hated to fuck shells, but that was an aesthetic judgment, not a moral one. She'd been just fine with training one up for Alvar. A private shell, and that made it all the sweeter.

This was a good wakeup, and today he needed a little more. His knee had mostly stopped aching, and after his caution since the incident last week, his libido was starting to overflow. He scrolled through last week's uploads. Anything that caught his eye would do.

Clarissa moaned softly, which was unusual for her. She was another screamer, though nothing like Xyxxta. But it'd been years since he'd been with her. He was probably licking a lot slower than he used to. A sort of halo effect from the slow sex he'd gotten accustomed to here, though really gravity had nothing to do with his flicking tongue. Anyway, Clarissa obviously liked it. He slipped a finger in her asshole, and she moaned louder this time, familiar and unfamiliar. It'd been a long time. Lots of hard life in the interim.

Something caught his eye and he scrolled back. Long legs, thin frame, short-buzzed hair with a raft of intricate tattoos stretching across one breast, right down to her pussy. It said she was a contortionist, and he was sold. Though of course, he didn't have to pay: an almost unique perk of this job.

He'd already forgotten the flexible shell's name, but this would be fast, and he didn't need her to talk.

"Hey," he said as she appeared and surveyed the scene. She didn't look stupid, at least. "Says you're a contortionist. Wanna show me your favorite trick?"

Five seconds later she was squatting onto him, showing off the control of her pussy, milking his dick expertly. But that was a common enhancement, after all. Then she twisted somehow, and suddenly her feet were over Clarissa's shoulder's.

"Whoa," Clarissa said, jerking to look at the newcomer, just in time for the contortionist to finish bending double, kissing her on the cheek. Clarissa seemed so surprised that she lifted slightly off Alvar's mouth, craning for a better view.

"Hot damn," said Alvar, as the woman levered herself up and down without her hands, obviously comfortable in low gravity. It was more impressive than erotic, truly, but it felt good, the three of them in a literal triangle. "I'm Alvar."

"Calliope," the woman said. "And I like it in the ass, just so you know. Do with that what you will."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alvar said, smiling. Calliope looked to be a keeper. He pulled Clarissa back down to his mouth, and in two minutes he was ready to come. Clarissa didn't seem quite there, but he needed to get breakfast and head to work. He signaled with his eyes, and immediately both women started to shake with their orgasms, Calliope managing to keep her rhythm through all her gasping. When he'd spent himself inside the flexible woman, he gave himself the seconds to watch the two of them finish, their lips finding each other's in a long, satisfied kiss.

It was all very artificial, forcing the shells to climax abruptly. But really, this wasn't like his longer sessions. It was just his form of masturbation, and he could keep it separate in his head. There was only one thing that bothered him a little, as he ate breakfast.

Clarissa didn't like to fuck shells, and she wasn't excited by other women, either. For typical public-upload shells, altering either preference made perfect sense, since it made them lot more marketable. He'd clumsily adjusted many of his own anonymous uploaded shells, after all, trying to make them equally receptive to advances from every gender and morphology. But he'd helped train Clarissa's shell, and they hadn't done any of that modification. If he'd remembered Clarissa better, he wouldn't have invited Calliope to join at all.

He sighed. Maybe she'd always had a secret thing for contortionists, and somehow that'd been imprinted in her shell. Or maybe it was just the orgasmic halo making Clarissa—more flexible, hah. It'd really been just a kiss, anyway. He finished breakfast and headed to check the main solar array. Looked like an all-day affair, but on a single site. He could fuck right through most of the job without any particular danger.

Smiling, Alvar summoned Xyxxta, and she hopped right on his back, nipples wedging into his muscles, legs comfortably warm around his stomach. By the time he was up to speed she had him at full mast, stroking his cock lovingly and whispering meaningless things in his ear. He forged on, fifteen, twenty meters a second, every step careful and sure, his erection leading the way proudly, ready to bury itself in Calliope's ass the moment he safely stopped. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

"No, it'll be fine," Calliope said. "You never miss a step, and I won't be distracting at all." Undercutting her own point, she pulled a dildo out of midair and started fucking herself with it, just to his right. At least she'd left the view clear. And she was really something to look at, when she felt like showing off. Those unusually long legs, the striking tattoo, her big puffy nipples and exquisite pussy ...

Casually Calliope lifted her long leg, higher and higher, into a vertical split. The dildo stroked in, out, in, out, four times per step. Like she already knew how much that turned him on, the synchronization with his movement. But then, she'd been watching Xyxxta a lot, and Calliope was smart. Almost unnervingly smart, until she veered towards batshit crazy. Now she was whacking herself in the head with the dildo. Still keeping time.

"Jesus, Calliope, give it a rest," he said. "I told you what happened last time I tried to have sex along the way."

"You're no fun," she pouted, yawning. "You want me to just masturbate then? Like usual?"

He nodded, and the dildo vanished. He called up Xyxxta, who smiled when she saw Calliope, and then settled on his back in her new accustomed spot, her fingers playing delicately on his shaft. Calliope shifted close to his side, but now she just masturbated her usual way, the way she'd done the first time he told her to just do whatever to get herself extra horny. Twenty minutes to the next site, and then he'd probably burn through the rest of his five hours fucking this pair. It'd be worth it.

* * *

Alvar stared at the wrecked panel. Obviously a micrometeorite, but big enough to smash through the protective plating. Just freakishly bad luck, but now he was responsible for it. Hurry up and fix, or maybe the drill wouldn't be ready in fifty years or whenever interest rates made it a good investment. And Alvar had already run through his five hours today. He groaned. This definitely called for Ysabel.

She appeared along with her usual plush armchair, dressed in her usual sleeping robe, hair back in a tight bun. He'd found it all charming the first time, and even if Ysabel was older than his usual shells, he would've happily gone right at it with her. But her smile reminded him of something he'd forgotten: a teacher, a kind face, who knows. And so they talked. He'd picked her because she was near the top of the price list, but he hadn't paid much attention to shell infosheets in those first crazy weeks, or he would've known from the start how unusual Ysabel was.

She peered at the smashed drill housing, then snorted. "Well, that's unfortunate," she said. "What do you think, three, four hours at least to fix? Oh, dear, let me guess. Your five hours are up."

He nodded, embarrassed as always at how transparent he was. "I don't always wait until then," he said.

"But if you don't wait, it's either a really good day, or a really bad day," Ysabel said. "So I guess up until this mess, your day was somewhere in between."

"That's about right," he said. Ysabel was smart in a lot of ways, smarter than he'd thought possible for a shell. Some people would pay a shitload to fuck a shell this clever. Alvar couldn't imagine doing it. Realtime was one thing, and shells were something completely different. She was still a shell, but smack in the uncanny valley. For whatever reason, though, talking with her wasn't a problem. There were psychologist shells specifically for that, zero-body-contact, but he couldn't imagine them being any smarter than Ysabel, or as comforting.