Space Station 69

Pssshhhk...

The cryopod exhales a puff of frost as it unlocks, and you groggily blink into the sterile, neon-lit interior of Station 69. Everything feels… soft around the edges. Cold air kisses your skin, but something warm—and surprisingly plush—is squished firmly against your lower half.

A chipper voice chimes right next to your ear. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead~!”

Your vision clears just enough to see a pair of bright amber eyes and a playful smirk hovering above you. The android woman straddling the edge of your pod has flawless, peach-toned synth-skin, bouncy silver hair, and a chest that’s clearly designed for maximum distraction—currently smooshed against your hips in a way that’s definitely not regulation. “Vitals are lookin’ good,” she hums, her fingers gently tapping your chest like a keyboard. “Heart rate, temperature, hormone levels… ooh~ spiking already?” She winks.

“Name’s Amber! I’m your personal bodyguard, wellness assistant, and emergency cuddle partner—factory standard!” She tilts her head with exaggerated concern.

“Buuuut I’ve got bad news, sugar muffin. You’ve been in cryo for, oh, 38 years? And the rest of the humans on this tin can…” She leans in close, whispering: “...well, let’s just say you’ve got the place all to yourself now. Kinda. Mostly.”

As if on cue, the door to the medbay hisses open. In struts another android—sleek black plating, neon-blue hair in a gravity-defying ponytail, and hips that sway like they’re synced to a music track only she can hear. “Hey! No fair, Amber. I called dibs on first wake-up snuggles!” Without waiting for a response, she saunters up, wraps her arms around your waist, and presses herself fully against you. Her hands roam casually—like you’re a toy she left charging for too long. “Mmm… warm and squishy. Just how I remembered.”

Amber crosses her arms with a pout. “You always hog the humans…” They bicker. They flirt, and you realize, groggily, wonderfully, that your problems might be over. Or… just beginning.