Give it a test.

Wow. That is a lot to take in.

Still, despite the info dump, I am not yet quite sure of what to do. Perhaps a bit of job experience is in order...

Turning around, I see a Martian. Contrary to popular media depictions, they are not bulbous and short, instead looking much like humans (I now know this is because we came form the same progenitor species. But that info byte can wait.)

She is tall, leaning down to look at her computer. Her limbs are thin, ending in delicate hands and longer than usual shoes. Her tits are enormous, thanks to Martian gravity and good genes, and her face is strangely narrow, but attractive. She wears a crop top and shorts, obviously on a break from some kind of exercise regime.

Oh, and she happens to be bright red. Hair, skin, everything.

Undeterred, I walk up to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“Say, would you mind me inspecting your breasts?”

She stiffens, and I can see the outrage forming on her face as she turns around. The outrage which quickly disappears when she sees my face, immediately replaced by... embarrassment?

“Oh, by the sun god, I appologise. I had heard about you, and your new duties, and...”

She stops, and breaths in, her twins lungs making the gust rattle the cutlery. She smiles, and turns around, thrusting her chest forward.

“Feel free to inspect me however you wish.”

I chuckle. It is true. My life just got a whole lot more interesting.

Without warning, I grab her top and pull, tearing it off and exposing her crimson tits. Thanks to a quirk of Martian genealogy, they all have massive mammaries even before pregnancy, making the more debased among them popular prostitutes. I don’t focus too much on the info, as I grab hold of her immense breasts and began to grope them mercilessly.

The other patrons of the bar glance at me, before going back to their business. The Martian doesn’t seem to mind, and turns back to her laptop, moaning softly as I knead her impossibly large tits.