The First of the Stoners
Copyright© 2026 by Al Steiner
Chapter 17: Dust in the Wind
Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 17: Dust in the Wind - For readers of the Greenies Universe, this is where it all began. In 2135, nineteen-year-old Nathan Stoner is offered something no vermin has seen in generations: a real job. The catch? It's on Mars. Follow the first wave of colonists as they leave Earth behind and build the foundations of the society that will one day shape the entire Greenies timeline.
Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Fiction Science Fiction
New Pittsburgh, Mars
January 11, 2136
Nate floated somewhere in the warm, heavy space between sleep and wakefulness, body loose and satisfied in a way he had never truly experienced back on Earth. His muscles felt drained in the best possible way. His member rested soft and content against his thigh. The room smelled like sweat, sex, synthetic bedding, and Lissa’s sweet musky scent all tangled together into one glorious cloud of messy human biology.
It was fucking fantastic.
He just wanted to exist here for a while longer. Naked in bed with a naked woman. Feeling her pressed against him under the blanket. Sharing warmth. Sharing smells. Sharing fluids. It was primitive as hell and somehow unbelievably comforting at the same time.
He had never realized how badly he needed this kind of closeness until Mars handed it to him.
Lissa had slipped reluctantly out of his arms a minute earlier to go offload. Nate had made a lazy noise of protest when she climbed out of bed, earning a laugh and a quick kiss before she padded naked into the living area beyond the bedroom door.
He had been drifting again after that. Eyes closed. Half asleep. Listening to the ocean sounds from Snark.
Then came the squeal.
Nate’s eyes snapped open. That was not a sound he had heard Lissa make before. Not even during sex. It was not a happy squeal. It sounded sharp. Panicked. Mortified.
The bedroom door slid open again.
Lissa stepped back inside so fast she nearly stumbled. She was still completely naked, even her socks had been taken off at some point during the festivities, and she was flushed from head to toe, one arm folded across her tits while the other hand hovered protectively down near her twat like she suddenly remembered modesty was a thing.
The door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss of machinery and displaced air.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked immediately, pushing himself up on one elbow. The sleepy haze evaporated fast when he saw her face. Things were absolutely not static right now.
“Tyler is out there,” she whispered.
Nate blinked at her stupidly for a second. “Tyler?” he asked. “My butt buddy?”
“Of course Tyler your butt buddy!” she barked at him in horrified disbelief. “What other motherfuckin’ Tyler would be looking at me naked out there!”
“But he’s not supposed to be here,” Nate said, still trying to come to grips with this.
“I can assure you that his ass is out there!” Lissa hissed at him. “And his ass just saw my ass. My naked ass! My tits! My fuckin’ bush! Oh my God, this is fucked up shit, Nate-dawg! How the fuck are we going to explain this shit? There ain’t no easy explanation for me being naked in your fuckin’ room while nobody else is fuckin’ here!”
Nate took a deep breath and looked up toward the ceiling.
“Snark,” he said. “Tyler came home?”
“Fuckin’ A, Nate-dawg,” Snark replied cheerfully.
“Did Tyler arrive home by some means other than the elevator?” Nate asked.
“Nope,” Snark said. “Boarded that mofo at 13:11:43 and arrived at the rezzie door at 13:14:11.”
Nate took another deep breath. “And ... didn’t I give you instruction to notify me if Tyler entered the elevator?” Nate asked patiently.
“Fuckin’ A,” Snark replied.
“Then ... why didn’t you tell me that Tyler was in the elevator as instructed?” Nate asked slowly, annunciating each word.
“Because you were engaged in sexual activity at the time,” Snark said, as if that was a perfectly logical explanation.
“Yesss,” Nate hissed at her. “That is the reason why we wanted you to let us know if Tyler entered the elevator. Because we were fucking. And we didn’t want Tyler to know that we are fucking, thus the early warning of his fuckin’ arrival that you were supposed to give us.”
“I’m down with all that shit, Nate-dawg,” Snark told him. “I’m fully programmed in human sexual morals and customs and have that cross-referenced with modern cultural anthropology guidance. I get why you don’t want Tyler knowing your dirty business. Give me some fuckin’ credit here, mofo.”
“Okay,” Nate said. “You’re a cultural expert and you understand our fuckin’ dilemma. Yet you did not warn me that Tyler was entering the elevator. Explain please.”
“Simple shit, mofo,” Snark replied. “One of my prime directives is to never disturb humans engaged in sexual activity unless it’s a life or death situation. Tyler arriving and finding out that you two are fucking is not life and death in any plausible scenario that I can extrapolate, therefore the prime directive overrides the personal directive because life or death consequences could not reasonably result.”
Nate and Lissa simply looked at each other for a moment. Lissa still stood there naked, arms still folded protectively across herself, face blazing red enough to generate its own heat source.
Nate finally looked back up toward the ceiling.
“So...” he said slowly, “you fully understood that the purpose of wanting you to warn us about Tyler returning was to avoid being caught in a socially fucked-up situation?”
“Fuckin’ A,” Snark said.
“And even though you knew that, you still didn’t stop to think that maybe this situation was important enough to interrupt sex for, since that was the very purpose of the request in the first place?”
“I don’t think about things like that,” Snark said dismissively. “I follow directions. Humans are the ones who put those fuckin’ directions in my programming, so bring this shit up with them, not me.”
“I see,” Nate said after a moment.
“It doesn’t matter how the motherfucker got here,” Lissa hissed. “It only matters that his ass is here. And he just saw me naked. Coming out of your room when no one else is home. You know what this looks like?”
“Like we were fucking each other,” Nate said.
“Exactly!” she cried. “We gotta come up with something that explains that. Something that works.”
“Lissa,” he said.
She ignored him completely, pacing now despite still being gloriously naked. “How about this?” she asked rapidly. “We were at the park, in a public place, and got beer spilled all over me so we came here so I could shower.”
“Uh...” Nate said. “Why were you naked in my room if that was the case? And why was I in here with you?”
“I haven’t worked that shit out yet,” Lissa admitted. “Maybe we both got beer spilled on us?”
“Still doesn’t really explain why you’re naked in my room while I’m in here as well.”
“Fuck!” she snapped. “You’re right.”
“I think,” Nate said carefully, “that there is no reasonable explanation we can come up with. If I wasn’t in the room with you, maybe we could pull it off, but my being in here is something we cannot explain in relationship to your ass being naked in here with me.”
Lissa stopped pacing. “So what do we say to Tye?” she asked.
“We tell him the truth,” Nate said.
“The fuckin’ truth? Are you high?”
“I wish I was,” Nate replied. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started reaching around for his clothes. “Put your clothes on,” he told her. “I have a feeling that Tyler won’t be as scandalized as you think.”
“Why the fuck wouldn’t he be?” Lissa demanded.
Nate shrugged slightly. “Just a hunch,” he said.
They slowly put their clothes back on over their sex-smelling bodies. There was nothing else to do. Neither bothered with the socks, though Lissa did spend a moment trying to explain that if they put their socks on before going out that would somehow make it easier for Tye to believe a lie that they still hadn’t come up with.
“There is not a fuckin’ thing we could say to Tyler that would explain what he saw other than the truth,” Nate told her. “Keep the socks off for now. You’ll be showering soon. And don’t worry too much. It’s not the end of the world.”
“If Tyler tells anyone, I’ll be marked as a slut for life.”
Nate tweaked her nose affectionately. “He’s not going to tell anyone,” he assured her. “He’s a greenie like us. Greenies don’t rat out other greenies.”
“Not to the fuckin’ Earthlings or the suck-ass sellout greenies they don’t,” Lissa countered. “The code don’t say nothin’ about telling shit to other normal greenies like us.”
“He won’t tell them either.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Lissa wanted to know.
“Because he’s our friend,” Nate said. “Come on. Let’s go talk to him.”
Lissa sighed. “Okay.”
They walked out the door and into the main room. Tyler was there, still in the kitchen, working on cooking up a hamburger for a meal—something Nate had showed him how to do. He had trouble looking at them.
“Hey, mofos,” he greeted listlessly.
He had nothing else. This was truly a socially awkward situation.
“Hey, Tye,” Nate said. “Got off work early, huh?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “The storm. It really is a dangerous one this time. They shut down the mines and got all us greenies back to the city when the visibility dropped below a hundred meters. We barely made it. Almost had to ride it out in the fuckin’ sorting complex.”
“Well ... that explains why you’re home early,” Nate said.
Tyler nodded once while flipping the burger patty in the skillet. The smell immediately intensified.
Nate glanced toward Lissa briefly, then back at Tyler. “Maybe we should talk about ... you know...”
Tyler shook his head immediately. “You don’t have to tell me shit,” he said. “Not my fuckin’ business. I didn’t see nothin’.”
“You saw Lissa naked coming out of my room,” Nate pointed out. “It would be hard to miss something like that.”
Tyler shrugged awkwardly without looking at either of them. “Not my business,” he repeated. “But just so you know, you can tell your rezzie-com to warn you if your butt buddy gets in the elevator downstairs. That would save all of us some embarrassment.”
“Yeah,” Nate said. “We did that. But the rezzie-com has a setting that forbids it from disturbing us if ... certain things are occurring. So Snark didn’t warn me.”
Tyler’s eyes widened. “The warning system doesn’t work?” he asked. This was clearly alarming news to him.
“Nope,” Nate said. “Not unless you specifically tell it to disregard a prime directive.”
“I didn’t know there were fuckin’ prime directives,” Tyler said.
“Neither did we.”
“It’s in the help menus,” Snark put in. They could almost hear the eyeroll somehow embedded inside her voice. “All you have to do is access my help setting on the primary panel and all of the prime directives can be viewed and adjusted from there.”
“Shut the fuck up, Snark,” Nate said. “We’re talking human shit here.”
“Shutting the fuck up,” Snark replied. And she said no more.
“Look, Tye,” Nate said. “It’s pretty obvious what is going on here.”
Tyler shook his head immediately. “No fuckin’ way,” he said. “I didn’t see nothin’, mofos. Nothin’. You don’t need to explain nothin’ to me and I don’t want to know. I’ll keep what you think I saw here to myself. Won’t even tell fuckin’ Deal about this shit. Just a hallucination from the fuckin’ dust. Let’s just forget it ever happened.”
Nate and Lissa looked at each other briefly, then back at Tyler.
“I guess I can live with that,” Lissa said.
“Yeah,” Nate added. “Me too.”
“Good,” Tyler said. He slid the spatula beneath the burger patty and slapped it down onto the bread he had already prepared on the counter. “Now carry on,” he told them. “Act like I’m not even here and shit. I’ll do the same.”
“Uh ... well ... I do need to shower first,” Lissa said softly. “I ... kinda smell strong right now.”
“Whatever,” Tyler replied dismissively.
“And we were going to cuddle together,” Nate added. “You know. In a friendship way. Maybe even take a nap that way. It’s kind of static, really. Would that bother you?”
Tyler grated his teeth a little at that. “Whatever you need to do,” he grunted.
Lissa was still blushing hard enough to qualify as a structural lighting feature, but she finally shrugged and got into the spirit of the thing. “Okay then,” she said. “I do still have to offload though.”
“You should do that then,” Nate suggested.
“Right,” Lissa said. “More cuddle time.”
She disappeared into the bathroom and the door slid shut behind her.
Nate turned back toward Tyler. “You sure you don’t want to talk about this shit?” he asked.
Tyler was clearly reaching the limits of his ability to process this situation with dignity.
“Mofo,” he said. “You’re fuckin’ spitting on the unspoken social contract we greenies share. I caught you red-handed fucking one of our friends when you’re not married or even in a courting relationship. That’s awkward as fuck. We’re all supposed to pretend that shit didn’t happen. You’re not supposed to tell me you have to shower the fuck-smell off and that you’re going to cuddle now because it’s fucking nice. What the fuck is the matter with you?”
Nate pondered this for a moment.
“Because there’s no reason to hide this from you,” he finally said. “If you know that Lissa and I are fucking, why keep pretending? Is the fact that we’re fucking impacting your life in any way, shape, or form?”
“Well ... no,” Tyler had to admit.
“Is it illegal?”
“No, but socially...”
“Fuck socially,” Nate said. “Fucking is fun, T-dawg. A lot of fun. And there’s no reason people can’t do it here all they want except for the Earth-fucking we all got hanging out with us from another fuckin’ planet. I want you to know that. I trust you with the information and if it doesn’t bother you, that’s a fuckin’ win for Lissa and me. That means we can fuck whenever no one else is here and know that you won’t tell anybody. I say violation of the code is worth that shit.”
Tyler actually froze in place. It was obvious that this possibility had genuinely never occurred to him before. The logic was disturbingly straightforward.
“I think I like it better when we pretend we don’t know,” he finally said. “It’s a good fuckin’ tradition.”
“I think it sucks a hairy asshole,” Nate replied. “And you know ... the deal would work in both directions.”
That got Tyler’s full attention. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that if we were to stumble onto any of your dirty little secrets involving friends ... well ... we would be unoffended. And we would accommodate your habit. Tit for fuckin’ tat. Neither of us would say shit.” Nate gave him a particularly meaningful look. “No matter what kind of shit you might be into.”
Tyler stood there silently for a moment holding his burger while processing that.
A strange little flicker crossed his face. Not fear exactly. More like sudden awareness that the social terrain around him might not be as rigid as he had always assumed.
“You can cuddle as long as you want,” he finally said. “Just be sure your slut is gone by the time Roxy and Xan come over.”
“Fuckin’ A,” Nate told him. “I got an appointment with some rich bitch at sixteen anyway.”
Nate and Lissa cuddled naked in bed together for the next two hours. They slept a little, but mostly just lay there tangled together beneath the blankets, enjoying the warmth and closeness of another body pressed against their own. Every now and then one of them would shift slightly, or lazily run fingertips along exposed skin, or murmur some stupid little joke that would earn sleepy laughter from the other.
Nate had never realized how static this kind of thing could be.
Right around 14:30 or so, they had another round of sex. No mouths on twats this time. Not even much kissing. Both of them smelled rather ripe by that point, sweat and lingering sex funk building steadily beneath the blankets. But that did not stop them from putting their parts together and moving pleasantly against one another until each of them reached that special feeling which defined what they were doing to each other.
Afterward they finally admitted they needed showers.
Tyler was sitting on the couch watching a sit-com on the big screen when they emerged from the bedroom. He paid no attention to them whatsoever. Or at least pretended not to.
The laugh track from the show echoed through the rezzie while Lissa disappeared into the bathroom first. Nate waited his turn afterward while Tyler stared very hard at the viewscreen like it personally held the secrets of the universe.
Neither of them mentioned the situation.
By the time Nate finished showering and got dressed, it was a little after 15:00.
Lissa stood near the door adjusting her hair while Nate pulled on his mocks.
“I’m going to hit the everything store and then go see the rich bitch about a hustle,” Nate said.
“Kay,” Tyler grunted from the couch.
“And I’ll be heading home,” Lissa added.
“Kay,” Tyler grunted again.
Lissa hesitated near the door. “Thanks for being so static about all this,” she said.
Tyler did not respond. He did, however, suddenly find himself wishing very strongly that Deal had gotten sent home early too.
Nate said goodbye to Lissa when they reached street level. He was heading across the street to the everything store while she was heading east toward her own rezzie building. They did not kiss goodbye in public. They did not even hug. To the outside world they presented themselves as two acquaintances. Maybe coworkers. Maybe platonic friends from the same building. Maybe even a budding romance if someone really wanted to read into it.
But nothing more. Tyler knowing their business was one thing. Random greenies knowing it was something else entirely.
They had discovered a loophole in the system. They were perfectly happy to quietly share that loophole with other like-minded people. But they were not advertising it. They were not trying to start some kind of sexual revolution. They were just glad they could fuck without consequences. That alone felt revolutionary enough.
“Can I come over tomorrow morning?” Lissa asked. “Say around ten or so?”
“You know it, slut-dawg,” Nate told her with a smile.
She left him with a smile of her own before turning and heading east down the street, disappearing gradually into the dim dusty light filtering between the towers.
Nate watched her go for a few seconds longer than was probably necessary. Then he checked both ways for delivery trucks or cop carts and crossed the street.
He spent eight hundred dollars at the everything store on basic tools and a proper toolbelt to carry them in. If he actually landed the job with Amelia Brown, he would still need another thousand or so dollars worth of shit before installation day even arrived. Specialty calibration tools. Better cabling gear. A field projector tester. Some wall-mount alignment equipment.
It would all cost considerably more than he would actually make from the single job itself. But it would be an investment. If Amelia Brown gave him a good review, he would get another job after that. Then another good review. Then more jobs. More reviews. Better pricing. Eventually fifty an hour like Bib had talked about. You had to spend money to make money. Some rich motherfucker had said that once. Nate hated admitting it, but the asshole had been right.
The walk north into Earthling territory was easy enough for someone already used to commuting several klicks a day on foot. Even with the toolbelt hanging on his waist, he didn’t break a sweat. By the time he reached Amelia Brown’s building it was 15:42.
A little early.
By now Nate had learned that Martians did things strictly by the clock. If you had a meeting at 16:00, you showed up no earlier than 15:58:00 and no later than 16:00:00. It was a narrow little timing window that both greenies and Earthlings were expected to obey without question. Too early suggested desperation, incompetence, or poor social calibration. Too late suggested disrespect for other people’s time.
So instead of approaching the desk or heading upstairs, Nate found himself a waiting area near the elevators and sat down quietly with his tools beside him.
The lobby of the building was enormous compared to the greenie towers. Wide polished floors. Decorative lighting. Quiet climate systems that didn’t rattle or hum. Fancy little storefronts lined the walls selling shit Nate had never even heard of before. Actual art. Imported fabrics. Designer smell-good products. Real fucking wood furniture.
Static-looking places.
But Nate knew better than to browse. He was a greenie worker and everybody looking at him knew it instantly. The clothes. The haircut (or lack thereof). The posture. The cheap mocks. The toolbelt.
He did not belong here.
Nobody would openly harass him as long as he stayed in the waiting area and behaved himself. But if he wandered into the shops, security would suddenly develop a very active interest in his existence. Hell, even sitting here had a time limit attached to it. If he remained longer than twenty-five minutes or so, security would stroll on over and politely (they were all greenies too, after all) ask what his business was.
Life on Mars. Life as a Greenie.
At 15:56 he headed up.
There were not many passengers waiting, and this building had four more elevators than Tower 8, which meant traffic moved considerably faster than what Nate was accustomed to. By the time he stepped out onto the proper floor, he still had nearly two minutes to kill.
So he stood quietly in the corridor waiting for the proper moment.
At exactly 15:58 he approached the door and laid derm against the access pad.
The door did not immediately open the way it would have for a friend or family member already authorized to enter. Instead, the system sent a signal to the rezzie-com inside. There was a camera installed directly into the pad itself so the occupant could see exactly who was standing outside, either on a viewscreen or projected onto a holo stage.
Nate straightened slightly and arranged his face into what he hoped was a pleasant, non-threatening expression. No sense looking like a psycho-killer.
About thirty seconds later the door slid open.
The woman standing there looked to be somewhere in her mid-thirties, maybe a little older. Nate had never been particularly good at guessing ages. She was somewhat chunky, though not unattractive, with large breasts—not as large as Roxy’s, but certainly notable. Her face was pretty in a comfortable sort of way. Not intimidatingly beautiful. Not ultra-classy the way Nate had expected from somebody living in this part of town.
She definitely dressed like a rich bitch though. Designer slacks. Multicolored short-sleeved top. Genuine leather mocks that probably cost more than Nate spent on food in a month. Her blonde hair was obviously artificial, but it was a quality dye job. Expensive enough that he couldn’t immediately determine what color it had started as.
Most surprising of all, she seemed genuinely pleasant. That caught Nate slightly off guard.
“Hi,” she said. “Thank you for coming by, Nathan. You found the place without problem?”
“Fuh ... uh ... yes, I did, Ms. Brown,” Nate replied, catching himself before ‘fuckin’ A’, a much more natural greeting to a vermin or a greenie, could escape his mouth. Earthlings were notorious for having a big stick up their asses. Most of them had a weird problem with common-ass words like fuck and shit and slut and asshole. Words that were the very nucleus of greenie and vermin speech.
“Call me Amelia,” she said with a smile. “Nice to meet you in person. Come on inside.”
He stepped inside and immediately found himself slightly disappointed.
Nate had been expecting something a lot more impressive. Maybe a luxury rezzie with spiral staircases on each side of the main parlor, plush carpeting, indoor trees, a fountain, or some other rich-people bullshit. Instead, the place looked merely nice. Nice enough, certainly, but not dramatically different from the upper-end rezzies he used to work in back in Roseville.
There were no spiral staircases. There wasn’t a staircase at all since the entire rezzie occupied a single floor.
The living room, where the vid-walls would eventually go if he landed the job, was spacious and comfortable, but nothing spectacular. There were no natural windows since Amelia and her Earthling old man were apparently not rich enough to score one of the exterior-wall units. The floor wasn’t carpeted either. Just standard-issue industrial brown tile designed to vaguely resemble hardwood. The furniture was expensive-looking but restrained. Comfortable couches. Faux-wood tables. Actual artwork hanging on the walls. Everything coordinated nicely without crossing over into gaudy.
What really caught Nate’s attention were the children.
Two of them sat at a small table in the corner of the room. One was a girl, maybe eight years old. Brown hair. The other was a boy around six, reddish hair trimmed short, just old enough to have homework. Both were cute in the natural evolutionary advantageous way children tended to be—make them cute so the parents don’t kill them before they have their own children. Both were working through assignments on their clinkers while occasionally touching the holos generated with their fingers to manipulate them.
Nate found himself studying the boy for a moment. The girl made sense. The boy didn’t.
Maybe he was a school friend. Maybe Amelia was babysitting. Maybe he belonged to a neighbor. Nothing else really made sense.
“These are my children,” Amelia said as she led him farther into the room. “Anita and Joseph Junior.”
The girl looked up from her homework and waved politely. “Hi.”
The boy did the same. “Hi.”
Nate waved back automatically, but his attention remained fixed on Amelia’s wording.
My children. Plural. Not my child. Children. As in more than one. As in a direct violation of the one-child-per-female WestHem law that had existed since shortly after World War III. Mothers and fathers did not have children. Only teachers could use the plural of child possessively. Well ... and vermin living in the ghettos of Earth. They had enough un-children collectively to keep the population of WestHem stable over the generations. It was just that most of those children were like Xan, who didn’t exist officially and found their lives a bit inconvenient as a result.
This was so surprising and unheard of that Nate could not stop himself from blurting it out.
“You have... two kids?”
Amelia gave him a small smile. There was a little embarrassment in it, though not much.
“Yes,” she said. “We were able to afford the exception tax.”
Nate just stared at her for a moment. “The exception tax?”
She nodded as casually as if he’d asked about deducting the tools he had purchased today on a tax summary. “If you can pay the tax to the government, they’ll allow you to have another child,” Amelia explained. “It’s cheaper here on Mars than it is on Earth though or we never would have been able to do it. First you pay the initial tax. Then once you actually have the second child, you’re taxed another ten percent of your income until the child turns eighteen. Two percent for the Planet too.”
Nate continued staring. He had heard rumors about this before. Everybody had. Back on Earth, stories circulated constantly about the rich buying their way around the population control laws that ordinary people had to follow. Nate had always assumed those rumors to be bullshit. If there was one thing the WestHem government took seriously, it was control of human breeding. He figured the rumors were just a case of people wanting to believe that someone else had it easier than they did through fundamental systemic corruption they could do nothing about. It made their own problems easier to rag about.
And even when people repeated these rumors, the stories always involved the ultra-rich. Corporate executives. Politicians. Planetary administrators. The kind of people who rode around in private aircraft and never worried about grocery bills.
Amelia Brown certainly seemed comfortable. But she didn’t seem that comfortable.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” Nate admitted honestly.
Amelia shrugged as if it really wasn’t that big of a deal. “You have to really want two kids to do it,” she said. “And you pretty much have to live on this rather shabby planet until the extra child turns eighteen to do it, but we were able to swing it. Anyway, that’s why I’m on a budget for this wall and floor project.”
“Mars isn’t that bad,” Nate said feeling strangely defensive about the place.