Bomb dealt with, the first thing I did was shut down comms. I cut the power from that whole end of the ship entirely, and resolved not to power it on until I'd thoroughly rooted through it's guts in order to pick out any passive listening devices, or any bug that had their own separate power supplies.
The second thing I did was assemble a basic drone from a kit that had been stowed on the ship for the express purpose of allowing me to physically interact with the world.
It all just popped together with the help of multiple mounted robot arms around the shop, and soon enough it was resting upon the magnetized bench in all of its diminutive glory.
It was a boxy little thing, shaped almost like a mechanized back hoe, but with a fully maneuverable manipulator instead of a big shovel on the end, and four squat little legs to help it get around.
It almost looked like somebody had turned one of those sleek robot police dogs into a pug.
I kind of loved it.
I needed to give him a name.
I thought about just going for something pithy, like K9, but then I decided the little guy probably deserved better than to be associated with cops.
And regardless, a good dog needs an overly fancy name, like…
Maximilian? No, too basic. Handigger? Probably not a real name. Macdougal? Not quite. Germaine? Ooh, yeah, that one fit.
Germaine it was then. Or Germy, for short.
Anyway, I got Germaine up and running and then immediately realized that I had a problem. Germy, bless his little metal heart, couldn’t walk in microgravity.
His little rubber nubs weren’t magnetized.
And while I hadn’t forgotten that everything not strapped down was going to float (several tools and pieces had already tried to fly weightlessly from my mechanized grasp) somehow I still hadn’t fully thought through the consequences of being in a microgravity environment.
It ain’t just wrenches and hex bits that float up here, cap’n. It was all of it. I just hadn’t really come to terms with that, what with my lived experience of space thus far being entirely within a simulation that came with gravity enabled by default.
And my little robot pug wasn’t designed to work in such conditions. Germy was only supposed to be used planetside, just like most of my available equipment. Which made sense, from the perspective of my captors. I wasn’t supposed to have access to anything until I landed, so why not design with that in mind?
If something went wrong, well, I was ultimately disposable. Better to leave me incapable than to hand me tools that might allow me to rebel or escape.
Joke’s on them, I was apparently psychotic enough that I’d risk suicide over enslavement. They weren’t going to be able to stop me now, substandard tools be damned.
“No offense, Germy.” I whispered at my simulated screen. It wouldn’t do to hurt the poor little guy’s feelings.
So I built one of the flying scout drones next.
Those weren’t meant to operate in microgravity either, but I could probably work around that with some clever programming.
I’d just have to be careful not to crash the thing. I didn’t have a whole lot of spares.
Predictably, on my first test flight, I slammed the whole thing into a nearby wall and broke it.
And for even dumber reasons than you might think!
You see, I’d basically completely reprogrammed the flight controller on the drone to better suit my own ends. As a result, I’d given myself the ability to spin only one of the four rotors at a time.
Something that I’d thought was a good idea, because then I could just give it the lightest of nudges in any given direction.
Only to find that I’d failed to account for how spinning a single rotor would cause the rest of the drone to spin in the opposite direction. Equal and opposite directions, and whatnot. Or how the drone would flip itself over, because lift was being only applied on one side.
Thus causing the whole thing to go wildly tumbling through the air the moment I gave it any power, at which point I panicked, overcorrected, and subsequently shattered the Drone’s lightweight polymer casing against the metal hull of the ship.
Leaving me with naught to do but shamefully pick all the floating debris out of the air with a few spare wall mounted arms.
I made several more mistakes like that, before I was forced to admit defeat for the moment. I’d get back to it eventually, don’t get me wrong, but for now I needed to give myself a break.
I finally had gotten myself some privacy. Time for some selfcare.
As an emulated consciousness that only existed within a computer, I didn’t have an active sex drive, per say.
Or at least, nothing fully analogous to the undeniable biological urge to merge that I’d had as a fleshie. Instead, I experienced something much closer to mild sugar cravings.
Still a desire, but with the volume turned way down, to the point of being easily ignoreable if I so chose.
And for reasons relating to the fear that I was constantly being peeped on by my jailers, I had, unsurprisingly, chosen to ignore it.
Despite the fact that I was normally one of the most sexually motivated people that I’d ever met.
Which is all to say, I wasn’t actually enjoying my abstinence all that much. Thankfully, breaking that streak wouldn’t actually be too difficult, despite my lack of a suitable corporeal form.
The simulation I was housed in came(pun intended) with a full suite of sensations, remember, and that included whatever was going on downstairs.
There were even VR porn scenarios available to me, if I wanted them. Everything from tentacles, werewolves, and milking machines, all just one push of the button away.
But I’d be starting off easy.
After so long since my last nut, I was just gonna jerk it, first.
So, I slipped off my skirt, threw off my shirt, unclasped my bra, and pulled the band on my underwear down just enough to expose my member.
It was actually kind of… surreal to see it after so long.
I hadn’t so much as a glance of it for years, the lack of a need to use the restroom or bathe meant that I’d just been wearing the same clothes the whole time.
For similar reasons, I hadn’t really touched it at all, either.
Which I think might have been why it was astonishingly sensitive, at first.
Even just tweaking the tip one way or another was far more intense than I remembered it being.
So, softly and slowly, I massaged my gradually swelling head, kneaded my shaft slightly, and generally coaxed it all back to life.
Until I was at full mast, my member twitching with anticipation, bobbing up and down with every beat of my pulse.
I was apparently a fair bit more pent up than I’d thought.
I grinned lopsidedly, in a manner that more than one of my past partners had said looked a little predatory.
I gave my tip a light flick, my legs almost buckling from the pang that I felt in response.
I wisely decided to sit back down, before continuing.
Then I wrapped my thumb, index, and middle fingers lightly around the very tip of the head, and pulled down, in one smooth stroke.
My foreskin peeled back just enough to reveal the bright red of my glands, and I felt a potent little surge rise up through my whole body.
Heat and electricity, traveling through every part of me, only dissipating just below my neck line.
I took a shaky breath inwards.
Then I went back up.
Another wave of tingling warmth, though it didn’t travel quite as far as the last one.
I stroked down again, applying a bit more pressure. That brought some of the intensity back.
“Better,” I whispered to myself.
So up and down I went, gradually squeezing just a little bit more each time, until my breath was hot and heavy, small noises working their way involuntarily up from my throat, and I could feel myself reaching about the three quarters mark.
With a bit of masochistic glee, it was then that I forced myself to stop.
I felt a few small little shocks run through my body, as the heat in me petulantly started to die down like smothered coals.
My eyes unfocused, as the sensations in my body ran amok just enough that sight became secondary to feeling.
I was shedding enough sweat to feel rivulets of it running down the crevices of my body.
But I forced myself to wait. Just enough for the heat to subside, just that little bit. I wanted to savor this.
Then, finally cooled down just the right amount, I grabbed back on, and started running the inside of my knuckles up and down the ridge that formed the lower edge of my glands.
Bump bump bump, down across the swollen line that marked the gap between shaft and tip.
It was a series of sharp, discreet moments of pressure and release, all focused on a single spot.
Like that, I slowly built back up to the halfway point.
Afterwards, I finally let myself apply a full handed grip.
I gave myself a firm squeeze, the rigid flesh yielding just enough to cause me to grin that little bit wider. Then I started to stroke with much more force.
I started to build towards the finish rapidly.
But… I slowed down right before the end once more. I slowed, but I didn’t stop.
I hovered at the precipice, one hand on my dick, the other massaging my taint to stimulate my perineum.
And I stayed there for as long as I could, until, mostly by accident, I felt myself inevitably start to cross that wonderful threshold, and I started to cum.
At which point I stopped being gentle, and went full throttle, determined to make the most of the orgasm before it could pass.
I felt my whole body shudder and jerk, forcing my hand through the seizing of all my muscles, tugging roughly until I’d spurted as much as I could all over my hands and legs, and continuing to stroke until doing so became impossibly painful, and I was sadly forced to stop.
Then I laid there, back pressed against the damp, invisible pleather of my favorite couch, just enjoying the feeling of being gooey and damp, sticky and wet, exhausted and incredibly satisfied.
I really, really needed that.