Reposted by request. I might go back and add more if I feel like it, but for now here's what was in the thread before.
The Business Trip
“Welcome to Risa 12.1, one of the shining jewels of the Risa system! Here you can find an introduction to what this beautiful moon has to offer as well as its rich history and culture.
Risa 12.1 was actually colonized long before its sister world Risa 9, but in our case the world didn’t really open up to tourism on a large scale until much more recently. It was first settled 200 years ago by what is technically a cult, founded upon a belief that many of the modern world’s problems come from humans’ isolation of themselves from our world through covering up our bodies, especially the parts which would contact it most intimately - the feet.
The settlers developed a belief system centered around finding happiness in the world and in each other through going barefoot, and as is often the case with small societies, to protect their beliefs they grew more radical over time. Before long they had reached a point where all members had both of their arms removed at the shoulder in order to maximize the interactions of their feet with the world and with each other, a tradition which has been proudly continued on Risa 12.1 to this day.
For a while, the unusual policies of our founders largely minimized interest in tourism, but after Risa 9’s re-terraforming to make it into the beach world it is now, the entire Risa system received renewed attention from the travel industry, and now 12.1 has become nearly as popular a destination itself.
As you most likely are aware, all residents born on Risa 12.1 have their arms removed at birth, and all immigrants are required to submit to a double shoulder disarticulation on arrival, coupled with a NanoBlock injection. In recent decades, the rules have been relaxed somewhat, and visitors are allowed to wear a pair of cybernetic arms, although you’ll likely find little use for them during your stay!
Shoes do not exist on Risa 12.1, and consequently for the duration of your visit we strongly encourage you to follow suit and keep your feet bare. Don’t worry about this, as heated floors and clean, plush carpets await you everywhere you go.
It may seem odd at first, but 12.1’s barefoot policies have been shown through professional studies to have contributed vitally to its present happy and peaceful culture. People on the moon have some of the strongest and happiest relationships anywhere in the known universe: they communicate better, work better together, and rarely have fights or fallings out. This is both due to the psychological benefits of constantly touching and sensing the outside world and the increased incentive for teamwork and trust among people who go barefoot together and lack the unnecessary convenience of hands. We’re confident that after a few days here, you’ll agree!
Risa 12.1’s most popular attraction is its spas. Our unique focus on the feet and the combination of dedicated staff and cutting-edge relaxation technologies have made them famous throughout the inhabited universe, and we strongly recommend visiting as many as you can. A wide variety exist, specializing in everything from traditional Ashiatsu massages and acupuncture to virtual reality-enhanced sensual experiences and everything in between. We guarantee there is something for everyone.
12.1 also features beautiful beaches second only to those on Risa 9, which play host not only to vacationers seeking relaxation but regular dance parties, art shows, and festivals of several varieties.”
Those were the salient points of the brochure I’d been paging through off and on for the last few hours aboard the orbital shuttle. I was only staying for a week for a business conference, and they were going to take my arms away and give me a NanoBlock so I’d never get them back! Why oh why did our head of sales have to be a Risan of all things?
I still had trouble believing this was really happening, try as I might to wrap my head around it. How could this, a place where people had to be mutilated permanently even just for visiting, be somewhere anyone would want to live, let alone a popular tourist hotspot? No spa experience could possibly be that good.
“Attention passengers. We are making our terminal approach to the Immigration Center. Please gather your belongings and assemble in the central receiving area,” said an intercom on the ceiling.
I complied. Collecting my stuff didn’t take long, as I was a bit of a closet nudist and had only brought two outfits to wear to meetings, one of which I was wearing and the other of which was already packed away in my travel bag. I entered the hallway and made my way down to the center of the ship, where I once again encountered and was slightly surprised by the resident staff.
I was able to identify the staff members who lived on 12.1 immediately due to their conspicuous lack of arms. As was apparently the standard here, they didn’t wear any prosthetics, so their shoulders simply ended like sheer cliffs. This didn’t seem to have given them any difficulty in piloting the shuttle or operating anything on board.
Shortly after everyone had assembled, there was a small bump as the docking clamp engaged, then the door opened into the Immigration Center. I passed through and observed a large lobby filled with typical immigration center things like a reception desk, immigration officers, and guards, as well as a large number of doors on either side apparently leading to numerous copies of the same room, some marked as “occupied” like some type of changing room.
“As you enter, please remember to remove all footwear and have your ID and passport ready to show the officers.”
I obeyed the announcement, awkwardly stuffing my flats into my travel bag while walking, and after showing my passport and having my identity verified, I was directed to one of the side rooms. On the floor and against the wall next to the doorway was a large touchscreen with checkboxes listing the various options available to me as a temporary visitor. I was given the choice to decline the cybernetic arms that would be given to me by default, and below that was a checkbox where I could elect to be awake for my “induction procedure.” I left it unchecked, as I had been advised was both the usual thing visitors chose and the easier way to go about the whole thing. Lastly was an option to submit to a temporary sex change. I think the brochure or one of the travel agents had mentioned somewhere that the population of 12.1 was, like that of Risa 9, almost entirely female and thus many of the men who visited requested a temporary sex change in order to fit in better. I left this unchecked as well.
The screen had obviously been intended for me to use my feet to operate it, given its position and the large sizes of the checkboxes, and since I was already barefoot and all the other visitors seemed to be doing it, I used my toe to press the “submit” button. When she saw that I had finished, the lady who had led me here opened the door and ushered me into the room. Inside was a bed and a cloud of strong perfume coming out of something resembling an incense burner. She informed me that these rooms were supplied to visitors and immigrants so that they may pleasure themselves before falling asleep prior to their induction procedures.
“Pleasure myself? You mean sexually? Why?”
“Because it’s the last time you’ll be able to do so with your own hands.”
I gulped. This was real after all - after today I’d be armless like all the residents here. If only I’d known this would happen when I’d first signed that employment contract…
She closed the door behind me and left me alone with my thoughts. I sat on the bed and tried once again to calm myself down and accept what was going to happen. At first I was baffled as to how I was supposed to masturbate under the knowledge that they were going to take away my hands, and thus my ability to ever do so again (I suppose it really was thoughtful of them to supply these rooms for us though), but every breath I took of the air in the room made me start to feel more and more aroused. Evidently there was some sort of aphrodisiac or pheromone mixed in.
I reached down between my legs and started to touch myself. After a few minutes, I wouldn’t say I’d been convinced, but I was sort of able to imagine how people might derive pleasure from this. I’d heard in the past of coworkers of mine who’d taken vacations over on that other colony Risa 9, where there was little to do other than those outrageous topless cruises they were so proud of, and it was well known there was a lot of body modification there. In fact a girl over in HR last year had “won” one of those absurd lotteries they were always holding and the word around the office was that she’d permanently lost her boobs.
I continued to rub myself to higher levels of stimulation, trying my best to spin the situation in a sexy light. My hands were never going to touch me down there again. From now on, I’d either have to use a machine or have someone else help me. Just to check, I tried reaching up there with my feet, but I couldn’t manage to touch anything. I was able to bend my legs surprisingly farther than I’d thought they could go, and even managed to wedge my heel into my crack at one point, but try as I might it was just beyond my capabilities to reach my nethers. Even if I’d been way more flexible, it was obvious that my bone structure simply wouldn’t allow it. This really would be the last time I’d be able to touch myself there.
I imagined that I was already armless and that my hands were actually those of someone else standing right behind me and doing the job in my place. Slowly I managed to get more and more aroused, reminding myself over and over how this would literally be the onanistic experience to end them all and trying my best to think of it as sexy.
I was having trouble reaching a climax and getting frustrated when I noticed a rather sophisticated-looking machine at the foot of the bed. It consisted of a large white dome with two openings whose size and shape implied my feet were supposed to go into them. It had a small sign on the front with some basic directions. I could choose between a variety of massages, teases, and other stimulation and return to the menu at any time by simply pulling out one of my feet and choosing a new option on the touch screen.
There were too many buttons and not enough patience on my part to bother reading all of their descriptions, so I just went by what the icons suggested. I found one that depicted a pair of lips with a tongue sticking out and pressed it before inserting my feet.
Immediately I felt something wet and slimy and instinctively pulled out both feet. I expected to find a bug, or leftover fluid from some previous user, but to my surprise they were both completely clean and dry. I tried putting them back in and seeing what was up.
I felt a very lifelike sensation of someone licking my feet all over, top and bottom, reaching into the indentations around my ankle and slithering between my toes. My arousal was suddenly doubled and I found myself arching my back and squirming on the bed. It really felt like someone was worshipping my feet, and a really skilled person at that.
After a minute or two I decided that I didn’t want to wear myself out before exploring at least a few of the other options. I found that the screen had changed to display a small tree diagram, with the picture of the tongue on top and two branches below: a picture of a tongue and a small plus sign, and a picture of a lollipop. Curious, I tried touching the lollipop. Since I still had my hands and one of them was free, I didn’t have to pull my feet out and was able to instantly feel the change. The mechanical tongue or whatever it was inside there continued to lick me but had also started to suck on my toes randomly, making me feel better and better each time. I couldn’t help but get absorbed by the pleasure and press the plus sign button, which did what I expected and added the sensation of a second tongue. In fact I ended up pressing it three or four more times until I had a whole harem of simulated foot worshippers.
In the end I failed to explore any more options before my head started going fuzzy and I was lost in sexual ecstasy. I don’t remember doing much other than climaxing a few times before falling asleep.
I awoke the next day in a hotel room matching my reservation and feeling for the most part healthy as a horse. However I immediately noticed that my arms were missing. Apparently I’d managed to mentally prepare myself after all, as I didn’t feel nearly as shocked and horrified as I had thought I would.
On instinct I ran into the bathroom to inspect myself in the mirror. I found that my naked body had been thoroughly cleaned and exfoliated, and my toenails had been polished to a point where they frankly looked gorgeous. I suppose they should, given the circumstances. My arms had both been removed at the shoulder, leaving a smooth, rounded surface that looked as if it had been born that way. Not even a hint of a scar was visible. I’d thought the reality had sunk in all the way already, but it managed to hit me once again with renewed depth.
This was my body from now on - I’d ceased to be the anatomically typical person I’d always been, and was now an armless person. I’d have to try my best to hold on to my memories of what my hands felt like, since I’d never get to experience any of that again. I started to miss it already, odd a thing as it seemed to miss. Nevertheless, if I closed my eyes and held still I could just about make myself believe that nothing had changed and that my arms were still hanging from my shoulders and angled to just miss my sides. It wasn’t true, though. The less normal version had become the reality, and I could clearly see both in the mirror and by looking down at myself that my arms and hands were very much gone - perhaps no longer in existence by now.
Looking around, I observed that the room had indeed been designed for use by a society of amputees. The bathroom door, for instance, didn’t have a normal doorknob but rather a lever a short distance above the floor where it would be easy to operate with a foot. It didn’t take me any mental gymnastics to figure out how to use it to open and close the door. The sink, toilet, and shower all had similar setups and indeed looked like they’d be easier to operate with my feet even if I did have a choice.
I left the bathroom and found my three travel companions distributed between the two beds in the room: sharing mine, my coworker Echo; and cuddled together on the other, my other coworker Mira and her girlfriend Lita. Lita had actually come on this trip completely voluntarily and shown no reservations about the amputation rules here. In fact she’d originally wanted to decline the prosthetic arms, but the rest of us had convinced her to take them for caution’s sake. For instance, what if she tripped and needed to catch herself?
Speaking of prosthetic arms, I found a pair designated for each of us on a stand next to either bed. By the looks of things, they’d been custom-built for our bodies and all I’d need to do to put them on was stand between them and let them attach themselves to my shoulders. I tried it, and sure enough, they stuck themselves on snugly and rather comfortably.
I proceeded to start waking my friends. As our first meeting wasn’t until that evening, we hadn’t bothered setting up a wake-up call and had ended up sleeping in, so waking them wasn’t too hard. Echo was much more surprised than I’d been at the state of her body, and I had to take a few moments to calm her down before moving on to the two lovers. Mira took the situation decently well, and Lita actually claimed to be feeling a bit aroused about it. I let the two of them chat things out (and do their “girlfriends” thing) while I showed Echo what I’d learned about the bathroom.
In the end the two of us ended up taking a shower together. Since the cybernetic arms were waterproof and we were both wearing them, there wasn’t much need to tend to each other, but both she and I ended up finding it comforting to have one another there, both to help and simply for emotional support. By the time we were done, she and I had more or less adjusted to reality as well as we were likely to.
For those interested, everyone’s appearances:
Echo and I both had short hair cut into a bob, mine black and hers dyed blue. We both had figures a bit too far on the slender side, giving us more of “stick” figures than hourglass figures. She was almost completely flat, while I at least had a modest B-cup chest. We’d both adopted the habit of shaving our groins in addition to our legs, revealing plenty of our pasty white caucasian skin.
Mira was the most tanned of the four of us, with dark brown hair falling into envy-inducing curls around her shoulders and a similarly enviable D-cup bust. She didn’t shave completely but rather left a small, short patch of hair above her crotch, shaped into a heart to match her girlfriend’s.
Lita had fiery red hair that was almost perfectly straight and reached down close to her belly button. She had a mild tan in between my shade and Mira’s and a large tattoo of an octopus across her lower back. She had used to have a smaller version of the tattoo on her left arm, but as soon as she’d heard about our trip she had gone to have it copied onto her back where she could keep it, at which point she’d also taken the chance to make it much larger and more detailed.
When we’d finished in the bathroom, we found Mira and Lita had abstained from going too far with one another and both attached their artificial arms and dressed themselves. Echo and I got dressed as well, and after a short while we were all ready to go out and have some fun, or at least whatever kind of fun this weird armless planet - er, moon - had to offer.
The first order of business was of course deciding what specific activities to pursue. We’d all arrived effectively a day early and didn’t have any meetings until rather late that evening, so as far as breakfast, lunch, and the afternoon were concerned we had an open schedule. Travel brochures had been thoughtfully provided and included a few recommendations for first-time visitors:
“Armless Swimming 101: Safety first! Learn to swim free of arms in a fun and easy training course! The course consists of four lessons with rest breaks in between and a lunch break between lessons two and three. Refreshments will be provided as well as a prime chance to make some new friends!
The Phantom Sensation: While most restaurants and other establishments here are very much designed for residents, The Phantom Sensation is a combination restaurant, lounge, and club tailored for acclimating newcomers to Risa 12.1 lifestyle. Its enthusiastic staff and accommodating facilities will make it easy to get used to the many changes you’ll find to your daily routine.
Suborbital Tours: Hop aboard a sleek spaceplane for a series of stunning views of Risa 12.1’s most beautiful cityscapes and geographic features! Two routes exist, each making a series of stops at famous locations across the moon:
- Start at Kaolin Beach, Mt. Akuma, Aisling’s Forest, return to Kaolin Beach
- Start at Strong Fern Museum, Kaolin Beach, Amber City (capital of Risa 12.1’s central government), return to Strong Fern Museum”
Both Kaolin Beach and the museum were a few hours away by train, so we tabled the air tours until we’d have a whole day off (likely near the end of the trip). A few other attractions were listed, but the first two seemed to combine in a rather convenient way - we could either stop at the Sensation for lunch between swimming lessons or, if the food at the swimming place were good, drop by the Sensation later for dinner. Reading the schedule revealed that we’d already missed the earlier of the two swimming courses and that the second one started in only twenty minutes! Without further ado we proceeded to rush around the room gathering our personal effects before hustling out the door and into the elevator.
The hotel’s main lobby was, fortunately, one of those nicer ones that serves breakfast and brunch foods throughout the morning and into the early afternoon, so fortunately we were able to grab a bite to eat on the way out. I was glad to find that my mechanical arms were comparable in dexterity to my original pair - I’d worried I’d accidentally drop something or crush it for lack of proprioception, but they really only looked robotic on the outside. The fingers turned out to have rather precise temperature and force feedback sensors that made it feel rather similar to simply wearing thin leather gloves or a bunch of thimbles.
The swimming course was hosted by a public gym only a block away, so we were entirely confident we could walk there in the time we had left. However, I suddenly felt an odd sense of self-consciousness when I exited the building and found myself standing on the sidewalk with bare feet. I’d done similar things before, at the beach for instance, and going barefoot inside the hotel wouldn’t have been that weird back at home, but this felt like some kind of exhibitionist stunt somehow. I was only minorly encouraged by the sight of my coworkers and everyone else visible outside going barefoot as well.
The sidewalk wasn’t uncomfortable physically at least - rather than the concrete that was standard fare most places, this one consisted of smooth stone, granite or something similar. It wasn’t polished, presumably for safety on rainy days, but was hardly any rougher than the average tiled floor. The morning sunlight had already done a decent job of warming it up, and the local public servants had apparently been doing a very diligent job keeping it clear of debris. I noticed some kind of sweeping robot continuing the job a short distance down the street.
Getting to the gym was an uneventful experience. We were in a hurry after all, so naturally there wasn’t any sightseeing aside from watching where we were going and not getting hit by vehicles. The gym itself was an impressively clean building like the others we’d seen so far - this society appeared to have basically “solved” uncleanliness and turned their whole world into a sparkling utopia. That was one thing about this place with which I had very little trouble getting on board. Inside we found what would pass for ordinary everyday gym equipment save for the fact that upper body exercise equipment was almost entirely absent and the fact that, as in the hotel room, all the doors and other fixtures had been designed for use with the feet rather than the hands. There were also some signs that directed us easily toward the swimming class.
Shockingly, I and my friends had made it just in time. A dozen or so other tourists were present, in various stages of the process of signing in and changing into swimwear. I followed suit. There were of course a few odd features, but for the most part it was a surprisingly ordinary travel experience and the oddities were nothing I hadn’t started to expect at this point. For one thing, there was only a single large locker room. I suppose a world filled entirely with women wouldn’t need a second, but weren’t there at least a few men here? How else would they reproduce?
The odder part of this whole thing was this: Upon signing in, I was informed by the greeters that for the sake of actually teaching us to swim armless, we would not be allowed to wear our prosthetic arms in the pool and would have to leave them in a locker. So where ordinarily I’d be taking off my shoes, I found myself instead taking off my arms. Strangely enough, I’d managed to quickly get attached to the things mentally as well as literally, and it felt as if I were having my arms amputated all over again (although admittedly I’d been unconscious the first time around). They had fortunately been designed to hang securely on the pegs inside the full-length lockers, so stowing them was no more difficult than putting them on.
Unfortunately I suddenly realized I’d made a stupid mistake: I had yet to change, and my arms were hanging uselessly in the locker. I mentally facepalmed. I was about to sigh and put the arms back on awkwardly when Mira appeared next to me and offered a hand (am I making too many arm jokes?).
I couldn’t very well argue with her when for one, she was the one who still had a pair of hands, and two, it would hardly be less embarrassing than turning around and starting over. Or so I told myself, but in retrospect I suspect I’d secretly wanted to have her undress me.
Being undressed in public by another person was far more embarrassing than I’d presumed, but with my shirt lying on the floor and my pants halfway to my knees it was a little late to refuse. I felt more helpless than ever before in my life. I’d of course been assisted dressing by my parents as a toddler, but, well… that’s normal for a toddler. And I didn’t remember it very well anyway. As an adult, having someone strip my clothes off my body in front of everyone was mortifying enough that I think I blushed all the way down to my nipples. It only got worse as Mira proceeded to my underwear.
I glanced across the room wondering for a split second if her girlfriend was bothered by all this, but as it turned out, Echo had made the same foolish mistake as I, and Lita was consequently tending to her in the exact same fashion. It was almost as if they’d seen this situation coming.
Before I knew it my crotch was exposed and inches from Mira’s face. I could even feel her breath. My heart pounded in my ears, and I started to tremble and clamp my thighs together like a scared little girl. Somehow being undressed by her was a completely different thing than changing by myself in front of her would have been.
“I think I can do the rest myself,” I blurted.
“No you can’t, silly,” she rebuked effortlessly, “just hold still and it’ll be over in two seconds.”
Indeed it was - or at least it was halfway, insofar as she’d unclothed me but had yet to attach my swimsuit. I found myself stripped completely naked for all the world to see and with no hands to cover anything no matter how desperately my instincts made me want to. I suddenly had a flashback to an old statue I’d seen in a picture somewhere of an armless, topless woman clothed only in a waist-high robe, and figured that I looked pretty similar, albeit with a much less calm expression. Going out barefoot wouldn’t feel like an exhibitionist stunt for sure after this.
At this point I think I’d started to mentally block the world out, as the next thing I remember I had successfully been placed in a swimsuit and entered the pool room. Addressing us was the head instructor for the day, a woman who clearly enjoyed maintaining her fitness as evidenced by the tight, subtly outlined muscles defining her figure. More salient, however, was the fact that she wasn’t wearing a swimsuit, or anything at all. I’d been ready to explode from embarrassment a second ago, but she was as unfazed as if she were simply in the tub at home. Silly me, calling myself a nudist when I was so many levels behind the real thing.
I had the good fortune that someone else asked about it before I did.
“Risa 12.1 has a large and thriving nudist culture, you know. Didn’t you notice any naked people on your way over?” the woman explained.
I for one hadn’t, though admittedly I’d been so preoccupied looking at my own and everyone else’s bare feet that I might have missed it.
“You’re all welcome to skinny dip here too if you like. ‘We’re all girls here’, as one might say, and you’ll find swimming is a lot more fun when you don’t have a soggy suit hanging off you.”
The lack of anyone jumping on board apparently made her think we needed a longer explanation.
“Since you’re all new here, you should know that here on 12.1 we have a culture of respect through acceptance. We’re not a culture of floozies, not by any means, but we do believe that things like hiding our bodies, just like binding our feet, are the reason for a lot of society’s current problems. And by seeing and being seen as you are, we have a culture that encourages mutual respect. Long story short, don’t be embarrassed to be naked here, or anywhere else! Instead, live a healthy life and learn to love the way you look.”
It was an awkward speech, but the message got across well enough. We were here to learn to swim anyway, not to have a heart-to heart discussion about free love. If there were a bunch of naked people running around, I had an odd feeling there would be plenty of that later.
She and the other instructors proceeded to divide us into groups for the first lesson, where we had a briefing on how our bodies had changed hydrodynamically. For instance, we’d have a harder time relying on the old “floating on your back” tactic, as without arms our balance would shift toward our legs, which naturally sink. However, staying afloat was easier in general without the arm bones and muscles weighing us down.
The second part of the class involved reorganizing into pairs and practicing producing thrust with our legs. Normally, I’d been told, swimmers get fairly little thrust from this and do most of the work with their arms, but as we were now we had to make do. There was a new level of importance in the way we bent and straightened our knees during each stroke, in order to have our bodies produce a wave that moved us forward, among other things. We all kept our suits on and nobody drowned, so this all went by unremarkably and before long it was time for lunch.
“Naturally you’re all wondering how you’re supposed to eat now that you’ve gotten rid of your arms. Worry not! This class is designed for newcomers, after all. Observe…”
The head instructor used her foot to place something on the table, giving us all a very clear view of her crotch. More importantly, though, we got to see one of the more common ways people had of eating around here: the device she was showing us included a sort of joystick composed of a small ball attached to a mechanical arm. She explained that the arm provided an inverse kinematic interface, which could be used to control the other end of the machine. She pushed a button on the device, and an object resembling a fondue fork appeared out of a small hole next to her plate.
“You’ll notice that each of you has one of these joysticks under your chair. When you move the ball, the fork on the other end will move in an identical fashion, allowing you to comfortably feed yourself. Give it a try now.”
I fumbled around under the chair for a few seconds until I found the ball. Grasping it between two toes, I wiggled it around a bit and found that, indeed, the fork in front of me copied my movements exactly. After a minute or so I was able to use it to pick up some of the melon balls and sliced sausages I’d been served. It would probably be a while before it felt natural, but it was a lot more comfortable than trying to stretch my leg up all the way to my face.
Mira was sitting next to me and judging by her expression had come up with a naughty idea.
“Lita and I were thinking we should all try going nude for the next part, since nobody else seems to be doing it yet. And I know you want to, deep down.”
“What? I dunno… all four of us?”
“Yeah, all four of us. C’mon, it’s not like it’s any secret you wanna be a nudist. You’re always going naked at home, after all, even when you have one of us over.”
Admittedly, I had opened up to my coworkers a little more in recent months and left my clothes off a few times when they’d come to visit. It was awkward at first, but that’s a story for another time.
“I’m still not sure I can go naked in public though. It doesn’t feel the same.”
“Well it’s not going to if you keep avoiding it! Come on, let’s see those titties!”
Her choice of words was less than encouraging, but if they managed to get Echo on board I’d have little excuse not to join in. And surely enough, with surprisingly little prodding they had convinced Echo to take her suit off. I’d misjudged her.
“So what, do we just take them off right here?”
“We can go back to the locker room if you like.”
I agreed that’d be a little easier. Still, this trip was already getting to be a lot more of an adventure than I’d been expecting, and it hadn’t even been a whole day. Hopefully things would calm down a bit once the meetings got underway. At least that’s what I kept telling myself as I once again found myself in the locker room being stripped nude by another person. We were all armless now, after all, so it was undeniably easier to just strip each other than do some kind of crazy contortion to undress ourselves.
The second half of the swimming class actually turned out to be hugely underwhelming. I’ve heard stories before of people’s first times skinny dipping in public, and while I had never seriously expected to be doing it myself (at least not so soon), it was nowhere near as exciting as they’d all described it. Perhaps it had to do with me already being a “house nudist”, but after a few minutes of getting over the idea that I was naked in front of a bunch of people, and a few subsequent minutes of marvelling at how I’d managed to get over it… it was just a normal swimming class. Swimming with no suit was indeed a more sensual experience, but in the end, isn’t that what everyone does whenever they take a bath? The only difference was that the “tub” was a lot bigger and that there were other people in it.
Thus the rest of the swimming course went by before I knew it. My coworkers and I returned to the locker room to dress ourselves (finally!) and put our arms back on, whereupon I discovered that, while I and the other three had been given arms that looked fairly generic, most of the others in the class - those that were still using prosthetics, anyway, as a few had apparently already gotten used to things here and ditched them - were wearing arms that had been emblazoned with a big “I <3 RISA 12.1” on the sides. Apparently that was the difference between “business class” and standard fare. More encouragement to do away with them or pay extra for the nice ones, I suppose.
I also discovered a message waiting for me from our head of sales. Apparently our first meeting had been postponed to the next day, so my companions and I had the whole evening to ourselves. Thus we proceeded with our plan to have dinner at the Phantom Sensation, spending the meantime browsing the local shops.
We found that Mastectomy Supreme had a surprisingly large presence here - about half the shops in town were owned by them or one of their subsidiaries. The humongous profits from their cruise business had apparently enabled them to branch out into a few other markets - lingerie and home debreasting equipment were the most obvious, but they also had a foothold in the packaged food business. One of the sillier products we discovered was a breast-shaped dessert made of some sort of gelatin or flan. The oddest thing, though, was that apparently the company was sponsoring the local police department, or perhaps that of the entire moon.
The Phantom Sensation was a brightly-colored establishment across the street from our hotel. While it sported a sizable bar and dance floor, it had clearly made efforts to retain somewhat of a family-friendly atmosphere, so the music wasn’t terribly loud and to one side of the dining area was an arcade filled with what looked to be fairly exciting games. All of them had controls adapted for use by armless people, including a rather intriguing setup for the racing simulators.
Lita had convinced us to let her leave her arms at the hotel, which was no surprise to me. She’d wanted to forego them to begin with, after all, and had been wanting to get rid of them all day. Interestingly, Echo had done so as well. This morning I’d never have seen it coming, but I suppose when push comes to shove she has a pretty adaptive personality.
After a short wait we were shown to a table and given the run-down on what the Phantom Sensation was all about. It was explained that while the Phantom Sensation officially allowed the use of prosthetic arms by its patrons, and its staff were always happy to assist us or explain how to do things without them, this was not the norm on this moon. Outside of towns such as this one, people expected one another to get along fine without arms and it was actually considered strange to wear them or complain about losing them. In a few places we could even get arrested for having prosthetic arms and have to pay a fine in addition to having them confiscated. Similar rules applied to shoes, and in fact the consequences were liable to be even more severe given that shoes were a direct affront to the moon’s cultural philosophy.
“I’ve even heard that they have an injection that makes you unable to wear shoes ever again, even if you leave,” explained our waitress.
“How does that work?” I asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s really only something I’ve heard about. I’ve actually only lived here for two months myself.”
Weird. I was stumped as to how something like that was supposed to work.
While waiting at our table for our food to arrive, I looked toward the arcade and discovered that the family-friendly environment wasn’t just for show - there were actual families here, and armless children happily playing the games. They made it look so natural, and I supposed for them it really was. So the brochure was telling the truth after all - people born here really did have their arms removed right off the bat. Part of me wondered about the ethics behind it, but I knew it could be far worse - and none of them seemed to mind anyway. No harm, no foul, as it were.
After dinner there was only a short while before the meeting was scheduled to start. Mira noted that as long as we were here, we’d either need to go out clothes shopping for me or I’d need to “graduate” to a full nudist. The first choice seemed the obvious one, but all the same I felt tempted.
The trip had been strange so far, but the meeting itself was weirder than I’d ever thought to expect. I met our head of sales in a presentation room adjoining the hotel lobby, and true to the norm on this moon, she was very much armless and barefoot. Even in this day and age it remained a little weird to go barefoot at a business meeting.
“As you no doubt know,” she explained, “our company is pursuing a partnership with the Mastectomy Supreme corporation, which is seeking to expand operations within the Risa system. Recently they’ve been experiencing some issues with people circumventing their and GenRegen’s ‘NanoBlock’. At first this only occurred in a few isolated cases, but over the last year or so it has become a much more significant problem.”
She continued with a brief rundown of the context.
“To provide background, Mastectomy Supreme runs a cruise service focused on breast fetishes, specifically those related to breast removal, or mastectomy. On their cruise ships, all passengers are required to undergo a mastectomy at least one time, but can immediately thereafter regenerate their breasts at GenRegen healing stations scattered throughout the ship. Passengers tend to draw enjoyment from this process and often undergo multiple mastectomies through various methods during the course of a cruise, and they tend to return for additional cruises year after year.
The NanoBlock is used in two main contexts aboard these cruises. The first is to enforce the rule of at least one mastectomy per passenger: upon boarding, each passenger receives a stamp on each breast, and at the end of the first day, any passengers caught with the stamp (indicating they have not undergone a mastectomy) face the threat of having their breasts forcibly removed and a NanoBlock injected to prevent them from ever regrowing them. Needless to say, these incidents are extremely rare. The second context is as part of their ‘lottery’: on each cruise, a single passenger is chosen at random to win a luxury apartment, with the condition that they submit to an immediate mastectomy and NanoBlock injection. The general opinion is that this lottery provides a thrill of sorts for customers, with every cruise booking coming with a small but real threat of it being their last.”
While a few of us hadn’t heard about this and had reactions ranging from intrigue to horror, for the most part none of this was new and we were easily able to proceed to the main issue of the meeting.
“As we can all surely guess, circumvention of the NanoBlock would upset the system - passengers would book cruises in huge numbers, confident that the price of the tickets would be far less than that of one of the winners’ apartments, and they would be undeterred by the threat of the NanoBlock, enjoying the cruises without ever having a mastectomy and thus not properly participating. It is the opinion of Mastectomy Supreme that eventually this would lead to a breakdown of their entire topless cruise industry.”
It didn’t seem a hundred percent solid logic, but if that’s how they felt then so be it. They had a better understanding of the situation than I did in any case - I had made a point of avoiding Risa 9 and in fact the entire Risa system prior to this trip.
“Needless to say, Mastectomy Supreme and GenRegen have gone to great lengths to safeguard the NanoBlock against any workarounds, but as you’re about to see, the danger is very real.” She turned to me. “You remember Yulia from Human Resources?”
To my great surprise, at that moment she walked in, sporting a pair of robotic arms matching mine and, more importantly, a pair of very real and ample breasts. She unfastened part of her top and showed them to us directly, revealing that they were in fact real, live human breasts, or at least extremely convincing fakes.
“As to how this is being done, allow me to draw your attention to this,” said the head of sales, pulling up a slide depicting what appeared to be a disembodied human breast - except where it would attach to the rest of the body there was a mouth with a ring of tiny, needle-like teeth.
“What you see here is an organism that has been dubbed the ‘oppoid’. It is a parasite discovered while searching for planets to terraform, and which through genetic engineering has been made to look identical to a human breast. What makes it special in this context is that it has a silicon-based metabolism and is thus able to digest and consume nanobots, including those used in the NanoBlock. Within one or two weeks of attaching to a host, it overcomes the nanobots’ ability to self-replicate and ends up erasing them from the host’s body, completely nullifying the NanoBlock and allowing the host to once again sport a pair of breasts, albeit not entirely human ones.”
“So that’s what Yulia has? Can they be removed, or is she stuck with those forever?” I asked.
“Yes, those are indeed what you see before you, and no, they can’t be removed, as after attachment they root themselves deep within the host’s body and through hormone secretions cause her to become chemically dependent on them. I may also add that in experimental trials, volunteer hosts have universally expressed reluctance to attempted removal of the oppoids within a few days of attachment, and after a few weeks have been completely opposed to the idea of removing them. The hormones the parasite releases appear to act as a reward stimulus for the host, encouraging her to keep them. In a few cases hosts have even been reported claiming to value the lives of their surrogate breasts even more than their own. So at least from the perspective of the host herself, she isn’t really ‘stuck’ with them at all.”
This was all a bit for me to take in. So an alien existed that looked and acted like a boob, and people were using it to “cheat” their way out of NanoBlocks.
“So what are we to do about the situation?”
“We’ve already come up with one promising solution,” explained the head of sales. “Rather than try to proof the NanoBlock against these creatures, or try to crack down on their use, our company has proposed we breed and sell them. It remains true that people with oppoids attached are unable to participate in mastectomies aboard topless cruises, so the concept of the winner having a ‘final debreasting’ could remain intact as well as at least part of the idea behind the punishment for not getting a mastectomy while on a cruise. We’d like you to help us find a way to make this work.
That concludes the presentation, so if there are any additional questions I can address them now, otherwise the meeting is dismissed and I’ll see most of you tomorrow.”
With that the meeting ended and my friends and I were free to head back to our room. I’d been actively avoiding getting mixed up with Mastectomy Supreme or any of the weird body-mod stuff going on in this system, but here I was, body-modded myself and stuck helping Mastectomy Supreme out. I had a lot to think about as I tried to fall asleep.
I was awoken rather early the next day for another meeting. While they had been considerate enough to provide refreshments, I hardly ended up remembering any of it; it was both uncomfortably early and boring, and we didn’t discuss much of anything other than everyday budgetary and administrative issues. After it ended, all three of my travel mates had been pumped to go out on the town again, but as for myself I was in the mood for a nap and thus stayed behind in the hotel room.
Unfortunately, after having been up for a few hours I found it difficult to go back to sleep, and I found myself alone and bored. I looked around the room and noticed, to my surprise, three pairs of cyborg arms hanging unused. So Mira had joined in and left hers behind as well. After a minute or so of contemplation, I decided that as long as I was alone (and of course naked, per habit) there wasn’t any harm in a little “test drive.”
I took my arms off and set a rule for myself: until either the other three came back or I had to go to my next meeting, I would not put them back on, even if I ended up going out. Even though it was commonplace here, the thought of going out in public armless excited me - sexually. I guess I was warming up to this situation a bit.
First I decided to explore the room a bit. I had already checked out the bathroom, but I had yet to take stock of the desk drawer or the closet. When I opened the latter, I found a familiar white dome - the same device I’d used on my first day here. It was pointless to resist the temptation - one second of looking at the thing and my bare feet were begging me for attention. So in they went.
In addition to the options I’d explored yesterday, the machine also offered an exfoliating and stimulating massage. I started it up, and discovered that when they had “rejuvenated” my feet at the immigration center, they had made them just as sensitive as my hands. Before long the stimulation was making the rest of my body want to be touched as well - particularly between my legs. But with no hands, I couldn’t satisfy myself! I took my feet out of the machine just for a second, but confirmed that I remained just barely unable to reach with them. I tried turning face-down, reinserting my feet and grinding against the bed, first in the middle where I had been lying and then on the corner. It still wasn’t enough.
Unwilling to take my feet out of the machine and walk, I dragged myself inchworm-style to the bathroom. If I recalled properly, the shower had a movable head that could be controlled by a panel on the wall, near the floor. It was clearly meant for my feet, but lying on the bottom of the tub, I could manage to push the buttons with my nose. I must have looked very silly, but nobody was watching and I didn’t care. I directed a concentrated stream of hot water onto my nethers, but that only made me hornier. I needed something solid to touch me.
Perhaps it was possible to ignore my lonely privates and climax just from being touched other places. I doubted it, but it was worth a try. I could get my nipples stimulated reasonably just by rubbing them on various surfaces, so it was left up to my feet to get me the rest of the way there. I took one out and pressed a button with a picture of an old-fashioned party hat - surely some kind of special super-mode. As I’d guessed, the machine set to work giving me a random shuffle of licking, sucking, and other sensations. It even tickled me a couple times.
Unfortunately… I remained unsatisfied. No amount of fantasizing and grinding was able to satisfy me. After a few frustrated minutes, I came up with a very naughty idea. I’d always called myself a “household” nudist, and admittedly loved to be naked. So why not go out naked? Mira would flip when she heard about it. I was dripping wet, and not just from the shower water, so I took a minute to clean myself up. The shower was rather sophisticated and turned out to be able to get me squeaky clean with no need to use my nonexistent hands.
I found myself hesitating in front of the door to exit the room. Would I really be able to just walk out naked and go out in public where everyone could see me? Part of me was thrilled by the idea, but I could feel it shrinking away and letting me chicken out.
Suddenly I was saved - the others burst in unceremoniously, and for a sickening moment I panicked. Could they tell what I’d been doing? Had I perhaps left residue all over the shower? Would they guess that I was about to go outside? What would I tell them?
Nobody seemed to react, though. I remembered that they’d all seen me naked before, not to mention it was obvious I’d just exited the shower. Rather, Mira seemed about to bust open at the seams with excitement.
“Sammy!” (That was my name, for those wondering. Short for “Samelia”.) “You have got to see what we found downtown! There’s this cool little back alley with the neatest body mod shops! After the afternoon meeting you have to come visit us with it - er, visit it with us. We didn’t really look at anything because I knew you’d want in. Oh, and we bought this for you.”
She produced an adorable cornflower blue dress, but there was something odd about it - there were no sleeves. And not in a sense that it was sleeveless: the shoulder straps were closed off at the sides, leaving an opening for my neck but nothing for my arms. I supposed it made sense for natives, but if I wore this, I wouldn’t be able to use my prosthetics.
“How am I supposed to wear my arms in this thing?” I asked, more or less knowing the answer.
“You don’t! It’s about time you ditched those cheap things anyway. The rest of us already did, and I see you managed to shower just fine.”
She had a point. With a little more coercion, I was convinced to wear it to our lunch meeting. It wasn’t as formal as the business outfits I’d packed, but it would do. It was a lot more formal than going naked in any case. It also turned out that I’d spent longer in the shower than I thought, and there were only a few minutes to spare before we had to go.
But I couldn’t! Not yet! I’d gotten myself all primed for an orgasm and not had it, and the last thing I wanted to do was spend the meeting distracted and sexually frustrated. Embarrassing as it was, I had to make the tough call of asking for help. I’d made a rule for myself, after all.
“I, um, well…” Here I was stuttering like a little schoolgirl again. “You see, I was, uh… well I’ve been single for a while now, and normally I’d keep it to myself, but… ahem.” I paused again. Here it came. “I need help, uh, relieving myself. You know, like… sexually?” I whispered the last part as if it would help.
As I’d expected, everyone’s eyes lit up. They managed not to laugh, however.
“Sure, why not?” answered Echo. “I could use a breather myself.”
She sure wasn’t the shrinking violet she’d always been at the office. Only two days in and this trip was changing her. I didn’t want to question my blessings, however. Before she had a chance to change her mind, I led her into the bathroom accompanied by a profusion of “thank you”s. As I closed the door behind us, I caught Mira whispering to Lita, asking if maybe they should follow suit.
Echo and I sat on the floor naked and looked each other over. I tentatively reached a leg up to her chest and started to pinch a nipple between my toes.
“I figure I might as well start. Get you a little more in ‘the mood’.”
She didn’t resist and I set to work teasing both of her breasts with my feet. Shortly thereafter she started doing the same to me. Having someone pinch my nipples with their fingers was one thing, but the shorter distance between her toes and their shorter length made the contact more intimate. I was dripping wet once again and ready to climax within less than a minute.
To give her a hint, I reached down with one foot and started to tease her labia. Before long her clitoris revealed itself, and I gave that a playful wiggle as well. Taking the hint, she mirrored the action on me. We were each fondling the other’s boobs with one foot and vaginal opening with the other, and it was a new experience altogether unlike any of my prior sexual encounters. Echo tried to shove a few of her toes into me, and the width of her foot made for an incredible amount of stretching. With some effort, coupled with a lot of squirming and moaning on my part, she was able to cram her big toe into my vagina proper. It was short, but plenty wide and hard enough.
She pushed it in and out and wiggled it around. Having a rigid object thrust in and out of my sex organ was good, but having it wiggle around in there was even better. I was ready to explode all over the floor, but I held out just a minute longer to make sure she could feel this too. I jammed my toe into her as far as it would go and started to rub the inside. Before even five minutes had gone by, we were both squirming in ecstasy and then after a few more moments, lying enervated on the cold tile floor. I was ready to go again, but we both knew that would have to wait. For the moment we had a meeting to get to.
We stood up and once again had a quick rinse in the shower, and then as I made to leave the bathroom she leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the side of my shoulder where my arm had been. It was yet another new experience for me - that part of my skin hadn’t really existed before, as it was now, and thus it felt alien and wonderful. I made a mental note to see how we could capitalize on that later.
Per my earlier agreement with Mira, I put on the blue dress. It really did look awesome on me - she sure knew how to pick what fit. It seemed a little festive for a business conference, but I was sure it’d pass anyway.
Our everyday matters having been addressed at the morning meeting, the lunch meeting was focused on sharing what knowledge we had about the situation with Mastectomy Supreme, i.e. what we knew about the “oppoid” creature. In brief:
- The oppoid could consume nanobots, rendering the NanoBlock ineffective, but could not be removed once attached.
- The creature secreted hormones that made the host chemically dependent and in some cases addicted to its presence.
- Pleasure-inducing hormones were released when the oppoid was massaged, similar to a human breast but often stronger.
- The oppoid was incapable of lactation, but could consume ordinary food through the “nipple” opening. Feeding it this way also transferred nutrition to the host, so a woman could “eat through her boobs.” Test subjects universally reported that this was a pleasurable and sexually stimulating experience, possibly superior to eating normally.
- Feeding an oppoid frequently caused it to grow; feeding it extremely frequently, several times a day, was shown in test subjects to lead to a shutdown of the host’s digestive system. Continued frequent feeding while in this condition could make the shutdown permanent. Our attention was drawn to one extreme case in which a woman was reported to have purchased several pairs of oppoids on the black market. She became addicted to the hormones they released and ever since took to eating exclusively by way of the parasites. I requested a meeting with this person in order to better understand the possible side effects.
- Oppoids were hermaphrodites, meaning they had no gender of their own but had to mate in order to reproduce. Oppoids on the same host couldn’t mate, but it was found in experimental trials that oppoids attached to two human hosts often attempted to mate while the hosts were in intimate contact (such as sexual intercourse). It had so far remained unconfirmed whether, if allowed to mate, they would be able to produce fertile offspring. Mating consisted of a kiss-like conjunction of the “nipple” openings, which in the wild were prehensile and could extend to a significant length, but in the modified “domestic” form could only extend a few centimeters.
I had to admit that while it all weirded me out at first, a few features sounded pretty sexy after all. I could see how someone who had lost her boobs would jump at a chance to have a pair of these things, especially with abilities such as eating through them. Later when I got to interview that one addicted lady I’d have to ask her what she thought about it all.
When the meeting ended I was immediately dragged out by my anxious travel mates. Lita seemed the most intrigued about this oppoid creature.
“I dunno about you guys, but even though they tried to make it sound all scientific, after what I’ve heard I have half a mind to get a couple of those things myself. If I ever lose my boobs in an accident or something I’ll have to look into it,” she said with a giggle.
“Or you could just have four boobs,” Mira suggested. Indeed, it was rare but not unheard of these days for people to get body mods of that sort.
“I dunno… I think I’m good with two. Maybe I’ll keep one and replace the other.”
I reminded them that this was all hypothetical (at least I hoped), and that the side effects still weren’t fully understood. What if it ended up messing with their brains? Or gave them an unknown alien disease?
That issue was brushed aside and Mira changed the subject back to our plan for the evening, which was to visit the street downtown with all the crazy body mod shops. They supposedly had pretty near everything there, including some stuff GenRegen had cooked up recently. On arrival, Lita almost literally dragged us into one of the shops.
“What brings you in today?” asked the man at the counter. A man! A rare sight around here, but hey, there had to be at least a few hiding somewhere.
“I want something that makes me feel like I belong. As in something special that I could only get on this moon. Like to feel like part of it is part of me, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah. So the arm removal didn’t do enough for you then?”
“Nope. Everybody has that. I want something unique to me.”
“Hmmm… I see why you came here then - I presume an ordinary tattoo or piercing wouldn’t satisfy either.” She shook her head in agreement.
“We have this,” he continued. “A treatment for your skin that’ll make your feet just as sensitive and pleasurable to touch as your labia.”
“Sounds good, but I want something more. What else is there?”
“Let me check on something.” He disappeared into a back room for a moment and then returned with a tablet detailing the shop’s most extreme and controversial service.
“Ever heard of a ‘NanoLock’?” he asked. We hadn’t, but presumed it was similar to a NanoBlock.
“It’s sort of like that, except that instead of preventing you from growing a part back, it prevents you from putting clothes on it.”
“It makes your skin secrete a certain chemical, which dries up on its own and can be rinsed off easily as well; but if your skin remains in contact with a surface continuously for a long enough time, it starts to produce a digestive enzyme that breaks down most materials other than human skin.”
So that was the thing our waitress had mentioned yesterday. But I thought it was only used as a punishment!
“So people get this voluntarily?”
“Only a few, mainly exhibitionists who put it on their boobs or some such. If you want to feel like you belong, you could get this on your feet and then you’d be stuck barefoot no matter what. You could get away with wearing open-toed sandals for maybe an hour, but something like sneakers would start to dissolve right off you in no more than fifteen minutes.”
I didn’t like the idea at all - barefoot was nice, but I wanted to be able to wear shoes when, well, I wanted. Lita, however, was lighting up. In fact, judging from the way she was starting to blush, the idea of getting this procedure was making her horny. Despite Mira’s and my feeble attempts to caution her, she was dead-set on it after a few minutes and begging the man to get started.
“In fact I want both - the labia thing and the NanoLock.”
“Follow me then. The rest of you can come too if you like.” He led us into the back room where I assumed they did most of the mods. There was a bench where Lita could sit in a zero-G position, and at one end was a fixture that looked similar to a stockade. Lita was instructed to put her feet into it where it would hold them in place.
“My assistant here will be doing the procedure and explaining how it all works. I’ll be back at the front desk, so if you want to back down at the last minute, you should tell her.” Next to him appeared a rather short, naked girl with long, curly golden hair.
“So,” she began, “you’re free the rest of the night, right? Once we start, you can’t have anything touch your feet for at least an hour, and after that you can’t wear shoes for at least a day or you’ll get a really painful rash.”
We confirmed that the night’s schedule was open, and we didn’t have plans to be putting on shoes any time soon anyway. The girl pulled over a cart carrying an assortment of items, including long rubber gloves and several different chemicals.
“The first step is an injection, so if you’ll relax for a minute there’ll be a few little pricks.” She proceeded to inject Lita’s feet in several places with a small needle. “This is your last chance to change your mind now.”
“No, do it! No more waiting; I don’t want a chance to second-guess myself or I’ll just regret it.”
“Then I’ll get to the second part.” She opened a large jar containing a bluish lotion-like substance and began to rub it all over Lita’s feet, taking care to cover every little crevice between her toes and even under her toenails.
“Are you sure you don’t need the gloves?” I asked. “And what if you spill some on yourself?”
“Oh, no worries,” she reassured. “I had this treatment done to my entire body shortly after I started working here. It was free, after all. So now I’m ‘immune’ as it were.”
“Yep! I’m one hundred percent permanently naked for life! My husband loves it,” she reassured, gesturing toward the front of the shop and the man at the desk, presumably her husband.
“And how old are you?”
“Ugh! Asking a woman her age at a time like this,” she chided jokingly. “No worries. I may look like a teenager, but I’m actually thirty-four years old. I and my whole family are blessed with youthful figures.” Accenting her point, she gestured proudly to her own perky chest, dripping a small amount of the cream onto herself. So she was really serious about being immune, I could see.
“Ah! That tickles!” Lita was starting to squirm.
“The sensitivity treatment is starting to take,” the assistant explained. “Your skin’ll be hypersensitive for a while, so I’m afraid it’ll tickle a bit.”
Lita squealed. “I hope it isn’t too long.”
“Please try to hold still.”
“So uh…” I’d been holding in a big question for a while now. “I can’t help but notice you still have your arms.”
“I thought nobody was allowed to have arms on this moon. Are they artificial?”
“Oh, no. It’s kind of a long story…”
We made it clear that we were all ears.
“You seem like you’re not going to rat me out, so I’ll tell you. I wasn’t born here. On my homeworld, my parents were really conservative and when I was born they got me an expensive injection that prevents me from getting any form of genetic manipulation done. It was supposed to keep me away from this bodymod stuff, but as you can guess I got into it anyway.
The injection has a side effect in that it also prevents NanoBlocks from working, so while they took my arms when I moved here, I kept it a secret but the NanoBlock never took. I still cut my arms off whenever I go out in public, but I can have them regenerated in the back room at the shop next door. ‘Course it’s not like they’d be able to do much if I did get caught - cut off my arms? The NanoBlock won’t work. Give me the NanoLock? Too late, already done. Deport me? No biggie. I don’t really have any connections here anyway, and I doubt they’d do that to begin with.”
“I presume your parents didn’t just let you move to the Risa system.”
“Of course not! But with the armless policy, this is the one place I knew they’d never follow me. It was hard at first, but it turned out I could make big bucks in the red light district. Ironically enough, 12.1 has the highest frequency of hand fetishism in the known universe.”
“Kinda sucks if you can’t get any body mods done,” I empathized.
“Eh, I got used to it. At least this treatment works. I’m still not entirely sure how - maybe my immunization wore off,” she said with a shrug.
The girl was finished after another minute or so, and explained that for the next hour Lita would have to remain lying on the bench. We were welcome to stay with her, and the assistant left us a vibrator to “keep her entertained.” Needless to say we ended up making use of it, torturing poor Lita until she was shrieking and giggling like a little girl.
That evening we ended up having to carry Lita back to the hotel - her feet had become far too sensitive for her to walk more than a few steps. We’d been reassured that the hypersensitivity would go down a bit by tomorrow, but as it was now even breathing on them made her convulse in arousal.
When we finally got back, it was still much too early to go to bed, but we were too worn out from carrying Lita the whole way to do much of anything. There were plenty of broadcasts to watch, but nothing terribly riveting, so we mostly ended up idly chatting for the next few hours. Mira seemed to be in lower spirits than usual.
“I feel like everyone’s had meaningful experiences on this trip except for me. Echo’s coming out of her shell, Sammy’s opening up to her sexual fantasies, and Lita’s had this treatment done. I feel a little left behind, you know?”
“Maybe you should get it done too,” Lita suggested. “It’s awesome, I assure you!”
Mira couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason, but she wasn’t keen on the idea.
“Maybe tomorrow we’ll go on one of those tours or something and we’ll see if there’s something you want to do,” I proposed. With no clear answers appearing just yet, we gave up for the time being and shortly thereafter fell asleep.
Note: If I do continue the story, I may end up retconning some of the later parts of it, as I feel my characterization of the new character was a bit two-dimensional.
Once again my meeting wasn’t until around dinner time, so we had the afternoon to fill as we saw fit. Lita’s feet had calmed down a bit, so we started by taking a walk around town. According to her, it was as intense as having her feet massaged at a spa the entire time.
Again I noted the constant presence of the M/S corporation. Not only did they appear to own half the shops in town, but I caught glimpses of their logo on the uniforms of security personnel here and there. I had no idea of the true depth of the situation just yet though.
Since there was time, we ended up deciding to see what one of the other cities might be like, so we took a train to the next town over, which happened to be near a beach. For the most part, things were similar to the previous town. We did run into one thing that caught our eyes, though: a large sign advertising “balloon diving.” Odd. All curious to see what it was, we found ourselves joining the queue at a small building on the beach.
This is where things got crazy. Apparently they charged pretty high rates for this, but today they were running a special offering free first-time tickets to anyone who went balloon-diving naked. Unsurprisingly, my three companions started egging me on almost immediately, and before I knew it the group had somehow worked out a deal where we’d all try it together. Thus we ended up waiting on the beach behind the building, naked, for the staff to get us ready to do who-knows-what.
First, a soft plate was attached to each of our backs with a powerful adhesive. We were assured that it couldn’t possibly come undone during our balloon-dive, but could be easily removed later by the staff. The plate was in turn attached to the end of a long cord connecting it to a large balloon. Over the span of a minute or so, our four balloons were inflated until we ever so gently started to rise up off the ground. At first it was only a few meters, but we continued to slowly climb higher and higher.
For the first few storeys, we were close enough together to brush away our nerves with casual conversation, but before long the wind started to carry us further apart until we were out of earshot and appeared as little more than specks to one another. Needless to say, for the first few minutes I was terrified. The staff had told us that the wind would bring us along a path parallel to the shoreline and far too high for anyone to see us, so if we got too scared we should feel free to do as Nature bid us. We’d laughed it off at the beginning, but I was starting to wonder if I’d really end up doing that - or if one of my friends were doing it right now.
Fortunately my nerves wore off after a few minutes and gave way to excited euphoria. If I’d still had my arms, I would probably have been flailing them nervously, but not having anything to flail (aside from kicking my legs around a bit) had an oddly calming effect on me. With plenty of time for my subconscious to figure out that I was safe after all, I relaxed and simply enjoyed the view and the feeling of the wind on my bare body.
And such a feeling it was. I’d ridden aboard aircraft before, but actually floating in the sky with my body exposed like this was something completely different. Deprived of the usual sensations of the ground against the bottoms of my feet or furniture against my butt or back, I became all the more sensitive to the warmth of the sun and the soft touch of the breeze. Air flowed across every part of my body, between my toes and over my crotch. I never thought that the atmosphere itself could stimulate me like this.
Floating through the air like this seemed like it would never get old at first, but as they say, a body can get used to anything. Just as I was starting to get bored and wonder if anything else would happen, something did - hundreds of meters above the ground, my balloon suddenly deflated and then detached from my back! I was left in free-fall, plummeting down toward the surface faster and faster with nothing to slow me down. My mind started to race - was I going to die? What had gone wrong? Wasn’t the adhesive supposed to hold until the staff removed it? Had the balloon malfunctioned? All the while the ground rushed closer and closer.
I imagined what I might look like in a few seconds, my blood and guts splattered all over the street or someone’s lawn. Spinning wildly as I was, there was no telling what was below me. It might as well have been a bunch of spikes for all it mattered - even water would kill me from this height! It was embarrassing to reflect on later, but I ended up spewing fluid. I never figured out for sure whether it was urine, cum, or both.
Suddenly I felt myself immersed in some soft, foamy white substance. I had been facing up just before impact, so I hadn’t seen it, but it turned out everything had indeed gone as planned and I’d landed on a very large, very squishy cushion made of a semi-solid foam. I observed that my three companions had landed a short distance away at around the same time.
We were all rather dizzy and a bit confused, but in the end we concluded that it had been a really fun experience after all. Whoever had come up with this idea had managed to mix in a perfect blend of excitement, calm, and fear to amazing effect. For now, we were grateful to be back on solid ground again, but were very open to the idea of trying this again someday.
Mira still wasn’t satisfied though. She agreed it had been very exciting, but she didn’t feel like she’d taken away something from it. Something else would have to be done.
For the time being, however, there was an imminent meeting to attend. My friends knew better than to try to dare me any further at this point, so we all got dressed again (our belongings had been delivered to the landing site during our dive) and started to head back to the port town, where we’d be catching a shuttle up to the orbiting station. Our client, I’d been informed, had circumstances making her hesitant to conform to the regulations on the moon’s surface and have her arms removed, so the only way to meet us would be in orbit on the other side of customs.
On the way up I involuntarily stared out the window and off into space, reflecting on my earlier experience with the balloon. The window seemed so small by comparison, but for the time being I didn’t mind it. That, and the view was breathtaking enough already with the gas giant Risa 12 hanging in the sky like a massive emerald jewel.
We made a single lap around the moon over the course of about a half hour before coming within docking range. The station was just as I’d left it three days ago - a large, circular structure for the most part, with docking spires sticking out here and there at odd angles. A few other shuttles were hanging off them like giant metal flies. After a few minutes, ours had joined the flock and we made our way inside and past the security checkpoint. Unsurprisingly, leaving Risa 12.1 was a lot easier than arriving.
Inside the station was an environment similar to a single huge, continuous strip mall. The overall mood varied along the circumference, encompassing everything from plucky upscale restaurants and offices to casual hangouts and even nightclubs. At intervals were groups of apartments for staff and temporary residents. Our client was apparently staying in one of these for a few weeks to scope out a new location for her business.
After a short elevator ride my coworkers and I found ourselves at her door, wondering what to expect.
“Hi~” sang the woman who answered the doorbell. “You must be from M/S, right? You’re earlier than I expected. It’s fine, though, come in, come in.”
An easy enough request, but I found myself taken aback at her appearance, something that was in itself surprising to realize considering I’d just spent half a week hanging out with a civilization of amputees. For one thing, she was wearing some ridiculous party dress that looked like it was afraid to touch her skin and would fall off and blow away as soon as anyone turned around. I could see a lot more nipple showing through it than seemed practical. Her legs were made of shiny metal, chromed in a few places - an uncommon thing in a society where regenerating limbs was a trivial matter (my current situation notwithstanding).
That wasn’t the real surprise, though. I may have mentioned I saw a lot of nipple showing through that dress. That was because she had more than the usual two. And not just three, as I’d seen once or twice before in red-light districts or movies.
There were eight.
She had two voluminous breasts in the usual place, plus two more pairs below them, plus another pair crammed on top in the space between her chest and shoulders. It was clear that my hunch had been right about what she’d done with all those oppoids she’d been buying.
“So you’re here to interview me about these boobs, I’m told,” she said, flopping onto a large, brightly-colored bed. She then proceeded to take her metal legs off, revealing yet another pair of boobs sitting where her thighs were supposed to attach. Well that explained the prosthetics, I suppose.
It was then that I observed possibly the strangest thing yet. The bed was adorned with two beautiful human legs arching over the sides like armrests, and sure enough, when I saw her resting her arms on them I was able to confirm that the skin tone matched perfectly.
“Those - are those your legs?”
“They sure are! Wanna touch?”
“Heh, no, I’m good. They aren’t still alive, are they?”
“Nah. We don’t quite have that kind of technology just yet. I just had them taxidermied. It seemed like such a waste not to, you know? So I figured I might as well just make furniture out of them. Then at least I’m still using them for something. Also it drives some of the guys wild.”
Looking at what else was scattered about the room, I got the impression she invited a lot of “guys” over here.
“So I suppose if you came all this way you’ll want a look. I presume you’ve been told about them?”
I reassured her that yes, we were indeed aware of what they were and how she got them.
“As you can see, all of them are in fact oppoids,” she began after tossing away the dress with barely a gesture. “It all started about a year ago when I was riding aboard the M/S Topfreedom and ended up winning their lottery. As I’m sure you’ve heard about, that meant I had to get a NanoBlock and then lose my breasts for good.”
“Needless to say I was upset at first. Sure, having an all-expenses-paid luxury apartment is nice, but a girl like me places a lot of value on her rack, you know? I was feeling pretty depressed for a while. It was weeks before I even plucked up the courage to leave the apartment. And even so, every time I went out I worried I’d run into someone I knew and have to spill the whole embarrassing story. Of course my parents found out pretty much right off the bat, but you know, I had old friends and coworkers I didn’t want to have to explain it to.”
“So one day I’m hanging out in the Royale’s bar when I catch this rumor going around that someone found a way around the NanoBlock. Of course, since like half the people living there are ‘winners’ like myself, it was a hot topic. Nobody really knew anything, and in the end nobody took it seriously. So I had to go home and look into it myself. A few hours of research later and I’d dug up a place where they were selling these…”
As she mentioned “these,” she started absentmindedly - or perhaps intentionally - stroking one of her breasts.
“So of course I tracked them down and bought a pair. I admit it felt weird at first, and I moved out of my apartment just to be safe, but once I put them on I knew I’d never want to go back, even to having regular boobs. I can’t do it justice with words, what it feels like having these. You really ought to just try it for yourself.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but she continued her story undeterred.
“Just one pair wasn’t enough, though. Sure, it was great having my boobs back, but what reason did I have to just stop at two? I’d already had to leave everything behind, so as long as I had to reinvent myself, I figured I might as well go ahead and be selfish. So I went and bought a second pair, that being - oh! I forgot to introduce you to the first two. Meet Mabel and Donna.”
She pointed to her first pair of boobs as if giving us an anatomy lesson.
“And these here are Claire and Hanako…” she said, indicating the uppermost pair.
“...and Stacy, Francine, Maria, Denise, Saoirse, Anne... and Violet.” As she continued rattling off the names she’d given to each of her boobs, I noticed she actually had a total of eleven - and the last one was somewhere I’d never expect in a million years.
“Violet’s the newest one. I’d never have expected it to turn out like this, but you never really know, you know? So anyway, it turns out that not only can you eat through these, you can use them for sex. You have to start with the uh, smaller guys at first, or just your fingers, but with a little stretching you can fit it in pretty easily. And it feels just as good!”
“Needless to say, guys love a chick with lots of boobs, and before I knew it the girls were getting more action than my vagoo was. So I figured, hey, if I ever decide I want kids I can always just clone myself, so if sex is better like this anyway, why not just stick one there too?”
“I forgot to mention, one of the best parts is right when you put it on. It stings for just a second when the teeth go in, but then it’s just pure euphoria. I wish I’d still had my original boobs for when I put on the first pair. It’s like your skin’s being kissed magnified by ten. And putting on Violet was positively orgasmic.”
She was quite emphatic about this point.
“Don’t you realize you’ve become addicted? Their hormones are making you want to buy more of them,” I protested.
“Well yes and no. As you can see, it’s not like I became a zombie or a mind slave or anything. I’m still me, and even from a completely rational standpoint I still think I’d want these. It has all the benefits of regular boobs except for producing milk, plus bonus features.”
“I want to assure you, it really does feel good though. And no, I actually think I’m happy with this many. Eleven may seem like a lot, I guess, but these are like my babies - I wouldn’t trade them for the whole solar system. But I don’t really want any more.”
“But still,” I insisted.
“It’s not really any different from stuff like smoking or drinking alcohol, is it? Those are addictive. And people know they’re unhealthy. So far, these haven’t had any ill effects at all.”
“But your legs!”
“I got replacements. And I still have them, they’re just not attached. Big whoop.”
She and I were nowhere near seeing eye to eye on this topic, but I had business to do. As long as we’d come all the way here, we had no reason not to get on with the questions.
“You’re not thirsty or anything, are you? Snacks? I don’t have a lot to eat, but I can get you guys drinks or something if you want.”
Oh, so now she was being hospitable. Only after the whole autobiography.
“No thanks, we’re good.”
I had to admit, as business meetings went this was exceptionally casual. For lack of anything properly business-y like a table, we’d all ended up sitting on the end of her bed like a bunch of preteen girls having a sleepover.
“Okay, so. Questions. Um, you mentioned you can eat through those. About how much of your nutrition would you estimate you’re getting from them?” asked Mira, actually getting down to business for once.
“One hundred percent. That’s actually why I don’t have all that much food in here. I feed the girls every time I have people over for sex. They crave protein and salt like no joke.”
“Wow. So that’s all you eat? You don’t even use your mouth any more?”
“I guess I still eat normally now and then, especially when I go out. I still find it fun to sneak bits of food in under my clothes at restaurants.”
“What kind of reactions do you get from people?”
“Oh, just what you’d expect. It’s not every day you see a chick with eleven boobs after all, and when they see food disappear into my nipples they go everywhere from horrified to aroused. I tend to take the curious ones back here to learn more.”
“Do you have trouble at your job as a result of your ‘hobby?’”
“Actually, no - it helps! I own my own brothel now, and I’m here to see about moving it to 12.1. More specifically I’m looking into leasing a place in the station so I can get people from off-world who aren’t into the whole armless thing.”
I was impressed if nothing else.
“So back to the topic of reproduction then. You mentioned not worrying about having kids. Are you not worried you’ll change your mind in the future? As far as we’ve been informed, oppoids cannot be removed once they take root.”
“That’s true. I’ve given it some thought, and I got to thinking I could be a breeder. If these things end up turning into a craze, there’ll be tons of money in it, I assure you. And, well, the way I see it, I’m like a mother to these girls…” she gestured at her boobs again, “...So breeding them is kind of like having children for me. I know they agree!”
“How much do you know about their reproductive cycle?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I know they can mate while we humans are having sex, but I haven’t actually met anyone else who has any yet. And I haven’t read anything about what happens afterward, whether they lay eggs or something.”
“Last question. What sources do you know of? For example, can you tell us where you bought yours?” Mira asked. I didn’t think that was on our list, considering we already had a list of known distributors back at HQ. No big deal though.
The woman explained where she’d been buying from, and a few minutes later we wrapped up the meeting and headed back out.
Lovely as usual, I really like the M/S Topless universe because of the casual nature but also the really going into the details of being amputated.
Thanks. To both of you. I have tried to pick up on where I was with the m/s topless but win 10 update fucked my hard drive and I lost a chapter that was never posted anywhere and I also suffered a major medical set back in real life...
Don't mind me, just harmlessly bumping the thread so it doesn't poof ;)
Another monthly bump to keep the thread alive ;)
Bump time again~