Zia Gets Hired by Mars Corp. (Chapter 1)
Notice:
This piece is pure imagination; nothing's real, and all characters are adults. I welcome any constructive criticism; even if you believe my creation is lousy, please let me know why so I can enhance my story. This tale incorporates certain BBC themes (in chapters 2 & 3) but isn't the primary focus.
Zia is courted by Mars.
Chapter 1
The unforeseen call
Zia hastened through Rochester's bustling downtown. She was running late for her interview. She received a call that was entirely unexpected, and she was unprepared for it. Her roommate persuaded her to apply several months ago. Zia considered it a pointless effort; she graduated near the bottom of her class and didn't seem like Mars' usual recruit. Then, a call arrived last night, insisting that she be at the Mars Recruitment Center at 9 a.m. She initially assumed it was an unlawful prank. When she chose to terminate the call, her smartphone pinged in response, granting access to the Mars Recruitment Center's highly secured premises. This trickery would've been untenable for mere friends.
As Zia stepped off the pedestrian sidewalk close to the road and advanced toward the building, 300 feet away, automated turrets tracked her movements. Her retinas were evaluated by the security system when she left the walkway. Not being an employee or known visitor, Zia was categorized as a potential threat. To scan her body, she approached a separate scanner positioned along the fence line, apart from employee and known visitor scanners. She stepped into the scanner and stopped; an automated voice instructed her. Without hesitation, she held her breath, considering the dire consequences. Moments later, the voice said, "Place your pass onto the scanner reader." With her instrument already out, she expected to comply with this order. After she presented her pass, a green light flickered, and the command, "Access granted." sounded. This incriminating finding compelled the surveillance turrets to surveil the sidewalk and street once more. Zia left the scanner and continued toward the building.
There was a specific portal for visitors; the glass doors slid apart, allowing her entrance. She deduced that these were bulletproof, maybe even blast-proof, as she proceeded. The doors closed behind her, and another section of dark paneled doors, approximately ten feet in advance, shut tight. She couldn't perceive their location. The walls on either side of her were white, and the ground and ceiling bore metal grills. Upon entering, she noticed a fan stirring air around her, a source of relief considering her mask had partially clogged air filters. Her weekly budget barely covered rent, food, and loan repayments, and cleaning new air filters seemed unfortunate extravagance. She extended their lifespan by washing them, but they were still subject to deterioration. With greater significance, though, the interview would determine whether she could purchase new ones.
A female computer voice instructed, "Take off your mask and insert it into the receptacle. It will be cleaned and made available for your use when you exit."
Zia removed her mask, which shielded her face and nose and revealed her face to the machine. The pollution levels were alarmingly high, making inhaling difficult. She couldn't purchase new filters at this point. With rent, food, and student loan payments, she barely maintained a roof and sustenance. She largely used her filters beyond the recommended time. Even household washing extended their life, but they had limits. Eventually, as her interview prospects dimmed, she derived satisfaction from her impending cleaner mask.
Zia deposited her mask into the receptacle. In response, the white door shut; thereafter, the opening became invisible. A bright yellow square surfaced above it, and the computer voice spoke, "Now, focus on the square and show your pass. Rotate your head to ensure your entire face is scanned. Disclose your name."
Zia answered, "Zia Marie Johnson."
The voice responded, "Thank you, access authorized. Follow the yellow arrows shining beneath your feet to locate the chamber where your interview will occur." Thus, the dark doors slid open.
The gigantic space before her was expansive; the ceiling seemed to be about 30 feet high, and there was a vast lobby with people going to various destinations. It may have been busy, but it wasn't overcrowded as you would Typically see in the entrance of office buildings. There wasn't a reception desk with security guards or barriers to control entry. The flooring was made of white glass, and the walls were made of white marble. It had a sterile atmosphere, like a hospital. As indicated, a yellow arrow was on the ground. As Zia strolled toward it, the arrow stayed foremost, shifting along with her. It directed her to a separate elevator for visitors, and when she entered it, the doors closed, and the arrow vanished. There were no buttons to push. She was alone in the elevator, and as soon as the doors shut, it descended instead of going up as she anticipated. After a min, the elevator stopped and opened, and the arrow was in front of her once again in the corridor beyond. She adhered to the arrow until it brought her to a door, and the arrow transformed into the words "Enter."
Zia unlocked the door and went inside. In it, a man was seated at a table in a small room. The room was only big enough for his table, his chair, and a chair for her. The room had blank white walls.
"Good morning, Zia. I'm John, and I'll be conducting your interview."
Zia advanced toward him and handled his hand; he exhibited a solid grip. "Thank you. My name is Zia Johnson, though I imagine you already know that."
"Yes," John said, "Please take a seat."
"I was examining your bio. To be Honest, you aren't our typical pick, but due to unexpected events, you are our next choice. The third choice, in fact, but we're evaluating whether you're suitable before asking in the fourth choice."
This wasn't how Zia envisioned the interview would kick off. "Finding her voice, she posed what occurred to their first choice."
"Ahh, Lee Ching. A REALLY intelligent woman, she Graduated at the top of her class, young, healthy, fertile. She also had a few years' experience in the engineering field, unlike you, still a fledgling, I believe." John looked at Zia's bio. "The excellent candidate for our Martian Colony. Lee passed all the tests and finished all the preparation work required to board the next spacecraft to orbit. Then, she would have been shifted to the next spacecraft to Mars."
John paused to inhale.
"Unfortunately, two days ago, as Lee was returning home for the final time to gather the few things she would be permitted to take to Mars, she was Targeted by a mugger. She Survived the attack, but some ribs of hers were broken. She isn't able to board a spacecraft to endure the gees necessary to achieve orbit. She anticipates a Complete recovery and will be migrating to Mars at a later stage."
"So now we have a problem: we require a female with an engineering degree who meets our criteria to occupy her spot on the spacecraft. And they need to be prepared to depart by the week's end. What are your thoughts, Zia? Are you interested?"
Zia was taken aback and thrilled; this was a lifelong aspiration. What she had seen of Mars on the news bulletins, it had expansive areas, large apartments, sufficient food, and luxury greenhouses, all under sealed domes, naturally. By the 23rd century, the summers on Earth weren't survivable outside anyplace south of 40 degrees Latitude. There was a population shift from the United States to move north. Cities like Buffalo, NY, Helena, Montana, and St. Paul, Minnesota, expanded by at least 20-fold in less than a decade. By the 23rd century, Rochester, once a small city of merely one million people, had ballooned into a 15 million population center by 2251. The vast Majority of individuals lived in congested high-rise apartments, and the government limited the extension of the city limits to preserve as much land as possible for farming. Food, water, and energy were in short supply for the average citizen.
As well as being a victim of crime, Zia was always an object of concern. Zia dressed modestly to conceal her voluptuous body; she possessed sexily attractive curves of a 24-year-old woman. If she dared to dress as sexily as she was, she was certain she would be targeted by thugs who roamed the neighborhood freely. Her facemask assisted in concealing her true beauty, concealed beneath her plain garments.
Zia lived in a cramped, one-bedroom apartment with her roommate in a seedy part of town. During the winters, there were occasional food shortages, while the hot summers brought rolling power outages. The air was so polluted that people near the cities had to wear masks outdoors. Zia frequently went to bed hungry. She'd do anything for a life with a spacious apartment, fresh fruits, and vegetables from greenhouses instead of the processed, inedible muck she ate every day.
John tapped on Zia's shoulder, yanking her out of her reverie. "Zia? Zia?"
"Sorry, what is it?" she asked.
"Are you interested in this?"
"Heck yeah!" Zia grinned.
"However, this isn't an easy decision. If you proceed, you won't be coming back. The timeline is tight, so we can't have any more setbacks like last time. Someone will retrieve your belongings from your apartment if you need them."
Zia couldn't think of a reason to go back to her cramped flat. She had no romantic partner or close friends; her parents had passed long ago, and she didn't keep in touch with any relatives. It seemed like she was on the cusp of a better life, a brighter future.
"Of course!" Zia exclaimed. "But I do have student debt. Does that matter?"
"Not at all." John said. "We'll pay your loans in full when we recruit you. You'll be working for an organization on Mars, and they'll handle your financial situation."
Wow! Zia thought. Not only was she going to Mars, but she'd also be debt-free. Her day was turning out great.
"There's more to consider," John said. "Anything you see or hear here is strictly confidential. If you breach this agreement, you'll face civil and criminal penalties. Our government values secrecy. As long as you're disqualified, you're allowed to discuss your time on Mars with anyone there, but you mustn't communicate with anyone on Earth. We have copies of your medical records from your doctor, and so far, there are no issues preventing us from proceeding."
John handed Zia an electronic tablet, and she signed the confidentiality agreement without reviewing it. She was determined to go to Mars. John pointed her to click the next button. She also had to sign several other documents without reading them.
John took the signed tablet, pressed a button, and submitted it to the servers, confirming her agreement and consent to the terms.
"All right, now remove your clothes," John requested. "You can throw your items in the trashcan next to my desk. Hopefully, you won't need them anymore."
Zia was speechless. John's request was merely a ploy to seduce her. She stood up, angered, ready to leave. "I'm not a prostitute!" she snapped at John.
John paused, "It appears there's been some confusion. Please sit down as I'll explain everything. If you still want to leave after this, I won't stop you. We'll compensate you richly for your time and effort in visiting us today."
Grudgingly, Zia sat back down.
"Let me explain," John continued. "Mars is unable to produce everything it needs for its growing population. The authorities prioritize local production of air, water, food, and structures. The colony recycles its resources and mines minerals on Mars for use. They also import electronic goods, specialized equipment, chemicals, drugs, and other such items. Mars can't afford to transport everything it needs, and there are limitations to what we can produce on the planet. Hopefully, you're following me."
Zia was nodding, "Yes."
"To save money on transportation, we need to produce as many essential items as possible on Mars. To achieve this, it's vital to have a constant supply of labor. And that's where you come in, Zia," John explained. "So no need to get upset. We'll pay you well for your assistance."
John then asked Zia to undress before leaving.
Now we come to the issue of attire. It's too costly to transport the latest fashion trends to Mars, and cargo space could be better utilized for essential items. Therefore, shipping clothes to Mars is out of the question. The other alternative is to create clothing locally. If greenhouse space is set aside to cultivate, say, cotton, one acre would be needed to produce enough cotton to manufacture a full set of clothing for 200 individuals. To make one set of clothing annually for a populace of 100k, that would require 500 acres of greenhouse space. That same amount of cultivation area could feed 15,000 to 20,000 people. Moreover, there is the issue of processing cotton into material that can be fashioned into clothing. Not only must labor be assigned to these tasks, but machinery such as cotton strippers, spinners, looms, and sewing machines are also necessary. If you want the clothing to have any color, additional greenhouse space must be reserved for growing plants like roots, berries, bark, leaves, wood, fungi, and lichens to create dye for the garments. Synthetic-produced dyes are not an option because not enough of those chemicals are manufactured locally. Technicians will need to be assigned to maintain those machines and parts shipped from Earth for upkeep and repairs. And for what? So you can wear attire in an artificially controlled setting? Clothing was invented to safeguard humans from a hazardous environment, wild animals, and oppressive winter temperatures, protection from sunburns. It's a superfluous item, particularly on Mars. The decision to eliminate clothing was made early in the Martian colonies' development. The only clothing made or delivered to Mars is used for pressure suits to work outside on the Martian surface or Personal Protective Equipment for hazardous jobs. Everyone on Mars wears none; there's no requirement for greenhouses or machinery to create it.
John concluded his monologue.
"If you want to relocate to Mars, you'll have to forego wearing clothing permanently. It's a negotiation-free scenario. Strip or depart. If you've earned payment for your time, leave this room."
Although he didn't interview the second candidate, he heard that she refused to expose herself. She attempted to negotiate for a bikini outfit, which was rejected. There are no concessions; it's a take-it-or-leave-it situation. Usually, when they recruit individuals to go to Mars, they have a backup candidate, in case. But for Lee, she seemed ideal, intelligent, attractive, and compliant, exactly what they were looking for. There was nobody with a similar background who applied. Having a backup candidate was a waste of time; apparently, someone felt that way. They likely faced disciplinary measures or dismissal after this debacle. There was a vacant seat on a shuttle; filling it with a bare body was his request. If he could deliver, it would look good for him; he might even be offered an opportunity to migrate to Mars in the future.
John's logic resonated with Zia. While logically it made sense, she was hesitant; her roommate had never seen her nude. And now she was expected to publicly disrobe for a man she'd barely met. She had qualms about revealing her nudity.
Impatient, John rose from his chair and exited his office, instructing her to decide.
In a state of indecision, Zia reluctantly proceeded to remove her outer attire. She expected John to shut the door, but he stayed by the open door.
When Zia was down to her underclothes, Zia inquired if John would close the door.
"Sorry," John answered. Shortly, you will be exiting this room and proceeding to the next phase of the process. There is no need to close it; privacy is not something you'll encounter here."
After a moment of hesitation, Zia removed her bra and panties. She wanted to conceal her genitals and breasts with her limbs, but she knew John would object. She stood there, blushing with embarrassment.
John inspected her; she was attractive. She would make a good breeder, assuming she was fertile, he thought humorously. Zia possessed an athletic figure, 38 double D breasts, but the jungle above and around her genitals would have to be eradicated. She resembled someone who had never encountered a razor before; possibly, she was allergic to them, John guessed.
"Really like a porn star?" Zia blurted out. This was getting crazy, first nudity, now they're asking her to have a completely hairless lady part, just like those who watch porn!
"Yes, unfortunately," John replied. "Making razors isn't hard, and it's within Mars's capabilities. But we need to worry about shaving cream, aftershave, and medications for ingrown hair treatments. It would be easier if you shave completely before the trip to Mars." Besides, you'll look incredibly sexy clean-shaven, John thought to himself.
"Please put your clothing in the trash can," John said, ordering her. "You can leave your purse and phone on my desk. They'll be safe in my office."
Zia's thoughts
Zia did as she was instructed, walking behind John as he hurried down the corridor. Zia tried to cover herself but did so discreetly, hoping he wouldn't notice. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone else in this part of the building. They reached their destination - another office, much larger than the first. As they entered, Zia could see the door to an examination room was open. A man in a lab coat was sitting at the desk.
"Good morning, Bennett," he greeted him. "This is our new candidate, Zia."
Bennett looked her up and down, noticing the amount of hair - even under her arms and on her legs. He turned to Zia, shook her hand, and said, "Nice to meet you, Zia. I'm Doctor Barry Bennett."
"Please, this way," Bennett directed Zia to the examination room.
Zia entered the examination room and was told to lie down on a padded table with her legs spread.
A side door opened, and another woman entered the room - she was nude and completely shaven. Zia looked towards the door and saw her, with a crotch tattoo - some art design.
"Nurse, draw some blood and get it to the lab as soon as possible," Bennett instructed. "Tell them to prioritize the tests."
The nurse, Lisa, got to work, removing a needle and vials, finding a vein, and drawing Zia's blood.
"Why is your nurse naked?" Zia asked.
"She's another Mars Colonist; you'll likely be traveling on the shuttle with her. Lisa's specialty is nursing, and she volunteered to help out today. If that makes you more comfortable, I can undress as well," the doctor said.
Zia shook her head. "No, that's not necessary."
But the doctor was busy. He was putting his fingers inside Zia's vagina while playing with her breasts, one after the other.
Zia turned her head to see if this was normal. The nurse didn't say anything. She finished her work, dropping off the vials, and turned to leave.
"Nurse, as soon as you return with the vials, come back quickly," the doctor instructed.
"Of course, Doctor," Lisa replied.
The doctor ceased touching Zia. "She's healthy," he said to John, who was still in the doorway of the office. "She's in excellent physical condition. If for some reason her blood work shows an issue, we'll suspend her enrollment, but I'm comfortable proceeding."
"Great," John replied.
The nurse returned, told Zia to stand up, and led her out of the office down the hallway. Lisa had a new tattoo - a tribal tramp stamp on her lower back. Zia didn't like tattoos, so she complimented Lisa on her new ink.
"Thank you," Lisa replied. "These two were done today. I had flowers all down my back and a big red rose above my pussy yesterday."
Zia looked at Lisa's tattoo. Lisa seemed to have overheard the doctor's disrespectful comment. "Relax. We'll take care of that for you soon."
Yesterday, Zia thought the weird ink might've been some experimental tattoos. As soon as she tried to bring it up, they reached their destination. In a nearby room, there were two spaces, separated by a half-wall with a huge window reaching all the way to the ceiling. There was an open area that separated the rooms, but no actual door, just an open space. The larger area had metal chains hanging from the ceiling. Also, there was a chair against one of the walls, a little off-center. The nurse guided Zia to sit on the chair.
Zia obliged, and the nurse took her long blonde hair, braiding it tightly. Next, she instructed Zia to stand in the center of the room. In a blink, the nurse clamped Zia's wrist in one of the chains, and before Zia could say a word, the other hand was locked, too. She even secured Zia's ankles in chains. The chains were cushioned with leather, so they weren't as harsh as typical metal dungeon chains, but Zia couldn't move. Lisa grabbed Zia's hair, now in braided rope form, and tied it to a retractable bundle, pulling her hair to the ceiling. With a click, the nurse stepped up to the control panel behind a glass wall and pressed a button. The chains retracted, forcing Zia's arms and legs to spread out; she was suspended in the middle of the room, fully paralyzed. Zia was being forced onto her toes as they hauled her up.
"What are you doing to me, Zia?" she screamed in terror.
"I apologize." the nurse responded, perplexed. "Didn't they inform you in orientations?"
"No," Zia almost screeched.
"There's no need to panic," the nurse assured her. "This is part of the process for body hair removal. Older methods used laser treatment, but now, advanced medical science applies nanobots to locate and destroy hair follicles. This position ensures the nanobots won't activate in spots where you don't want hair removed. I've seen instances where people accidentally touched their head while this went on, so they ended with bald patches on their heads. However, you can undergo the whole head hair removal operation if you'd like."
"No. No. Please, I want to keep my beautiful blonde hair." This calmed her down, realizing she didn't want to lose the hair on her head, let alone a bald spot.
"What about your brows, lashes?" the nurse asked next.
"I want to keep those, too," Zia replied. She found the question strange; why someone would opt for hair removal on their face was beyond her.
The nurse disappeared for a short time, then emerged donning a hazmat suit with a see-through window. "I'm just taking extra precautions," she said while smiling. "I don't want to lose more hair due to my carelessness."
She sprayed Zia's body with a thin coat of black liquid, smearing it from her feet to her shoulders. The nurse switched to a brush to carefully paint Zia's neck and face, leaving eyebrows, eyelashes, the bottom of her eyes, and her hairline untouched. The nurse made Zia gasp when she poked her fingertip into Zia's nostrils.
Stay still, the nurse said. The nurse stepped away, taking off the hazmat suit before exiting the room.
It had been way more than a few minutes. Zia's feet were starting to hurt from standing on her toes so long. But she dared not move. How long will this go on, she wondered. Then Dr. came in, followed by John and the nurse. The three of them were all naked now, but Zia was focused on maintaining her position that she barely noticed it.
"You should be ready by now," the doctor pointed out. He pressed some buttons behind the partition. Worried, Zia saw a blast of air through multiple ceiling vents, then streams of water coming from different nozzles. Seconds later, all the black ink was wiped off Zia's body.
"Much better," the doctor remarked. "I have good news: all your test results came back healthy, and you're going to Mars. Congratulations." [The End.]
"Thank you," Zia muttered, momentarily doubting her decision to come here, especially in this instance. "Are you done examining me now?" she inquired.
"Almost," the doctor responded. "Now that you have no more hair to obstruct, I can do a more thorough examination of your body." The doctor explained. "But first, let's administer your vaccinations. Nurse, give Zia her injections."
The nurse came near Zia, carrying multiple syringes.
"What are these for?" Zia enquired.
The doctor assured her there was no cause for concern; these were simply routine vaccinations and medications. Once the nurse had administered all the shots, she stepped back to the other side of the glass partition.
The hairless Doctor Bennett approached Zia. She observed that he was clean-shaven and in good physical shape. Behind him was John, also hairless from the neck down but not as trim as the doctor. Zia could see that John had a pot belly and carried a few extra pounds.
Doctor Bennett didn't waste any time before touching Zia's hairless body; he squished her breasts, played with her clitoris, and inserted several fingers into her vagina. Zia was starting to feel aroused sexually.
"John, check out her breasts," the doctor said casually, requesting another medical professional's opinion.
Zia could see that both men's penises were growing at this point; they were both getting hard. John reached out and started fiddling with Zia's nipple. Meanwhile, the nurse in the other room watched silently from behind the glass window. Zia couldn't take this treatment any longer, so she asked, "Please stop touching me!"
Both men immediately removed their hands. "Sorry," the doctor muttered, "I got carried away." They exchanged a frown and a grin. Zia was suspicious that a conversation had taken place between them but couldn't make out what it was.
Doctor Bennett called for the nurse again, "Continue with the next phase."
"Certainly, doctor," the nurse answered. She disappeared for a moment, then reappeared wearing the hazmat suit. John and the doctor stepped back to the other room and watched through the window. The nurse sprayed Zia with a thin layer of black substance again.
"What was that about?" Zia questioned the nurse.
"Don't move or speak; this will only take a few minutes." The nurse replied and sprayed the substance all over Zia, even onto her eyelids and scalp. Finally, she rubbed the substance into the bottom of Zia's feet.
Zia once again stood in the middle of the room, naked, covered with an unknown black substance. She was unable to see or hear anything due to the substance's blocking effects. Moments later, she felt the rush of air and water washing over her from all directions.
When she opened her eyes and could talk again, she asked, "What was that about?"
"Oh, just applying your body tattoo," the doctor said calmly. "I just need a few minutes to program the nanobots, and then you can leave."
"WHAT?" Zia exclaimed, "You gave me a body tattoo?"
The doctor glanced at John, "You never told her about this?"
John confessed, "This candidate was rushed through the application process; she didn't get the customary orientation that other recruits receive."
"Ah, well, let me educate you then. You know Mars can't produce many of the typical items you find on Earth, correct?"
Zia nodded.
"One of those categories of products is cosmetics. Our solution is a unique one. Have you heard of permanent makeup? Here, people get tattoos on their faces to apply makeup. In your case, your entire body was tattooed with these nanobots. They've absorbed into your skin, just like real tattoos. With a computer, you can control these nanobots. You can change the color of your eyelids to any color you want, like eyeshadow. You can make your lips redder or change their color entirely. It's like using makeup but with altering your skin color rather than applying chemicals. When the nanobots are turned off, your skin remains unchanged."
Zia felt less upset; this would make it easier to apply makeup without having to worry about it smearing or washing off. She just wished they would've told her beforehand what was happening so she could have had some control over the process.
"I just need to fine-tune the settings, and you'll be free to go," the doctor said.
The doctor and John sat in front of a computer screen, altering Zia's appearance. They changed the color of her eye shadow and face makeup, making her look like a clown for a moment. Zia couldn't see what was happening to her, but then they gave her a Tramp Stamp tattoo. They played around with different demeaning sayings, writing "I love Cum" and "Slut" on various parts of her body. Finally, the doctor selected a tribal Tramp Stamp for her back and a symbol on the back center of her back, which she wouldn't be able to see without a mirror. He thought this would be amusing to observe since he'd read her application.
In her application, Zia had checked the box indicating she didn't like black men. The questions asked whether she'd ever dated, had sex with, considered having a black man as a roommate, co-worker, or spouse. In every instance, she responded "no," and even added a comment that she didn't like black men and preferred not to be around them.
The doctor dismissed the nurse and instructed her to take Zia to the cafeteria for lunch. The nurse released her by snapping open all the manacles and the one holding her hair up. Zia fell to the floor but was cushioned by the soft landing. The nurse assisted Zia, guiding her to a chair.
"Here, take a break for a little while," the nurse said, extending her hand. "I'm Lisa."
Zia tiredly shook hands with the nurse. "I'm Zia, but you already know."
Zia noticed a white substance on Lisa's face. "You have something on your face," Zia noted.
Lisa wiped her face with her hand and examined it. "Oh, that's John's cum," she said, licking her hand clean.
Zia was stunned. "You and John are a couple?" she inquired.
"Absolutely not!" Lisa said. "I'm not attracted to John at all. After leaving the room following your hair removal treatment, John stopped me in the hallway and said the doctor wanted to see me. When I returned to the doctor's office, he insisted that I bend over. The doctor removed his clothing, and he had sex with me from behind while John joined in, having me suck his penis. I was like a sandwich. The doctor is a well-known womanizer."
"So why do you work with him if you don't like him?" Zia asked.
"More like I was 'voluntold' to work with him," Lisa explained. "Don't get me wrong, I detested being treated that way, but I'd worked hard in college - studying for hours, skipping weekends with friends. I wanted to go to Mars. If I have to endure some more demeaning experiences, it would all be worth it."
Zia stayed silent, not wanting to reveal that she was only there because of someone else's misfortune.
"You did well to resist the doctor's advances," Kim commended.
"What do you mean?" Zia asked.
"When the doctor was assaulting you, he wagered that he could make you beg for sex," Lisa clarified. "You stopped him."
"Did you know you have a Tramp Stamp on your back?" Zia asked.
"No, I can't control the content of my tattoos while we're still on Earth," Lisa reported. "Most of the women in my dorm have Tramp Stamps programmed by the doctor. He's a real jerk."
Zia thought, "At least I don't have one"; she looked at the small of her back. Oh, no. She realized she did. Lisa noticed her expression.
"Don't worry about it," Lisa assured her. "You can change or remove it when you get to Mars."
Lisa helped Zia up and guided her towards the cafeteria. As they walked, Lisa added, "I'm sorry about your hair removal treatment. It was supposed to take ten minutes, but I couldn't disobey the doctor's orders. He left you hanging there for an hour."
Zia, in her mind, exclaimed, "What have I gotten myself into?"
"Can the doctor sleep around with whoever he wants without any issues?" Gina wanted to know, worried.
"Of course not, you can always turn down any sexual request if you feel uncomfortable. No one has the right to force you into anything you're not willing to do," replied Lisa.
Zia relished her meal with Lisa. They chatted as if they'd known each other for years. Initially, Zia felt uneasy. There were naked people in the dining area, even the kitchen workers. But after about thirty minutes, going nude wasn't a big deal anymore. Nobody seemed to make fun of her body. After lunch, Lisa guided Zia to her very first class.
Read also:
- Yes, Darling
- Death's Angel, Part 4:
- Incident: Chapter 2
- A Never-ending Contest: Volume 1, Chapters 16-25
Source: www.nice-escort.de
