I’ll be honest with you. After the Moral Majority Party took over globally on Earth, things got more than a little dicey for human females.
Those bastards took women’s liberation back to the Middle Ages.
Head coverings, ugly ass dresses that veiled our glory from here to there, and electronic chastity belts were issued to women of all cultures and ages. Lesbians were outlawed. Sex was suddenly a secret, shameful thing, with all the pretty young virginal types being snatched up as wives of the ruling class to be initiated into it.
Lucky for me, I didn’t have to participate in the repressed pussy party—I was young but far from virginal. From the first time I skinned my knee and conned somebody into kissing it for me, I knew I was destined for bigger and better things.
I had heard through the rumor mill several sex clubs on a recently colonized Mars were looking for fresh talent. The skin job was mostly to get me off Earth—nothing says “not from around here” like going green.
Of course, the transport ship I jumped on didn’t exactly make it to Mars. We were boarded by space pirates instead. Turns out they really liked the color green, and I never pegged myself as a tentacles girl, but … wow, apparently, I am.