Citizen's Worlds

The morning light filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden streaks across marble floors and silk sheets. It had been two months since Moxie's eighteenth birthday, and waking up still felt surreal to him. Not the groggy, alarm-blaring panic of his previous life, rushing to make another food delivery while nursing a hangover from cheap beer. This was the gentle awareness of someone who had all the time in the universe, literally, with nothing demanding his attention except deciding which pleasure to pursue first.

He sat up to the sight of naked bodies moved throughout the bedroom. A dozen female androids performed morning tasks with mechanical precision: adjusting temperature controls, preparing refreshments, organizing the massive space that constituted just one wing of his mansion on Horizon-7. The synthetic servants wore nothing, their perfect bodies on full display exactly as he'd requested. Smooth skin, ideal proportions, faces and figures pulled from the spank bank he'd accumulated during twenty-five years of sexual frustration on Earth.

That neurolink integration the Nexus performed was working flawlessly. The Crown, as citizens called it, monitored every neural impulse, every fleeting thought and preference. The AI processed that data and rendered each android to match his exact specifications in real-time. Their appearances shifted subtly as his attention wandered. A breast size adjustment here, a hip curve there, all calibrated to maximize arousal based on patterns the Nexus detected in his brain activity.

"You," Moxie said, pointing at the nearest android. "Come here."

She turned immediately, and satisfaction rippled through him at the face looking back. Scarlett Johansson, or rather, a perfect synthetic recreation based on his recollection. The same pouty lips and sharp eyes that had fueled countless masturbation sessions back when jerking off in a cramped studio apartment between gig shifts constituted his entire sex life. The android crossed the room with fluid grace, hips swaying, breasts moving with that perfect weight and bounce that marked Nexus craftsmanship.

"How may this unit serve you?" Her voice matched too. Breathy, submissive, programmed for obedience.

Almost perfect. That was the beautym but also frustration of android servants. They looked flawless, moved flawlessly, even fucked flawlessly. But when examined closer, they lack those minute details that makes a person real. Sophisticated machines wearing fantasy faces, nothing more.

Still better than his previous life though.

The memories remained vivid despite fifteen years in this new reality. Born in a middle class family, dead at twenty-five, hit by truck-kun while racing to deliver pad thai to some asshole's apartment. Classic beginning of an isekai story, except instead of waking up in a medieval fantasy world with magic and dragon girls, Moxie's consciousness had returned in a birthing facility somewhere in humanity's distant future.

Moxie's parents, whoever the fuck they were, couldn't be bothered waiting ten months while his mother's body grew a child the old-fashioned way. That would mean less time for fucking, physical discomfort, all those messy biological complications that immortal pleasure-seekers had engineered away. So they'd submitted her fertilized embryo to the Nexus, let the AI gestate him in a synthetic uterus, and presumably went right back to fucking on whatever worlds they owned.

He'd never met them. Never met any real citizen, actually.

That was the strangest part of growing up in this paradise. Raised in communal education worlds alongside the handful of other children, surrounded by android caretakers and AI tutors, but actual Prime Citizens? They were ghosts. Off enjoying their personal dimensions, building harems, pursuing pleasure with the infinite time immortality granted.

It took until age three for those Earth memories to fully surface. Moxie had been disoriented at first. The feeling of an adult mind trapped in a toddler's body paralyzed him. But confusion transformed rapidly into euphoria once understanding dawned. Somehow, someway, **** had granted escape from late-stage capitalism's grinding misery into a post-scarcity paradise where a hundred thousand immortal citizens commanded infinite resources and explored entire worlds for entertainment.

The history he was taught painted humanity's journey in broad strokes. Earth unified under a single ruler called the One True Leader, or the Founder as people now called him. Faster-than-light travel followed, along with the first contact with alien species, then aggressive expansion across hundreds of star systems. Subjugation Doctrine made conquered species into property. No rights, no autonomy, just living resources for human pleasure.

Then came the Succession Crisis caused by the mysterious **** of the Founder's heir. The old man and his failing mind sparked catastrophic civil war. Twelve factions tore the empire apart, deploying antimatter weapons that obliterated 78% of habitable worlds. Population crashed from over a trillion to barely a hundred thousand survivors. Forty-three alien species went extinct.

Recovery took a century, but when it came, humanity rebuilt stronger. The survivors created the Nexus AI, a godlike artificial intelligence housed in the ergosphere of the galaxy's supermassive black hole, programmed with one simple directive: maximize and ensure the perpetual pleasure of humanity. The AI developed immortality treatments, discovered portal technology in alien ruins, opened pathways to alternate dimensions. Suddenly scarcity was the thing of the past. Infinite worlds filled with resources and people to fulfill fantasies, all managed by an omniscient machine.

Now a hundred thousand or so immortal humans lived as pleasure-seeking gods, each granted personal worlds to populate and enjoy however they desired. The Nexus handled everything. Manufacturing, military operations, resource distribution, even matching citizens with compatible pleasure opportunities based on their deepest desires. No currency, no work, no limitations except one absolute rule: Prime Citizens possessed inviolable autonomy. Everyone else? Well, they were just means to an end. The citizens' end.

Android Scarlett waited patiently while Moxie's mind wandered, programmed to endure any delay without complaint. He waved her away for now and rose from the bed, crossing to the entertainment center that dominated an entire wall. Horizon-7 had been allocated as his designated home world. An archipelago planet half the size of Earth, granted to him as starter territory, filled with pleasant flora and fauna, and nothing else. Think of it as a blank canvas, with him as chief architect, and Nexus as the hardworking worker that would make all of his wishes come true.

The display activated at a gesture, immediately populating with recommended content. Most of those contents were made by his fellow Citizens, recordings of how and what they did to their allocated worlds. Sure enough, the top suggestion featured Citizen Dante Volker, one of the more popular content creators in the community. His latest upload called: "Night Stalker Episode 47: The Crimson Temptress Falls."

Moxie had watched his stuff a few times, and with nothing much to do, he let the video play across the massive screen.

Volker had chosen an interesting approach with one of his assigned worlds. Rather than direct indulgence, he had ordered Nexus to subtly manipulate the planet's media and culture, positioning himself as a mysterious vigilante hero. The world looked like early 21st century Earth, complete with sprawling cities and conventional technology. Nexus control meant he could reshape probability, ensuring crimes occurred exactly when and where he wanted, setting the stage for dramatic interventions.

His usual content involved him saving damsels from robbers. And they repaid him with a blowjob, sometimes more.

Tonight's episode showed him perched on a rooftop in full costume. Black tactical gear with a flowing cape, mask obscuring his features. Very Batman, kinda derivative. Instead of the usual damsel in distress, he faced his supposed nemesis, a female villain called the Crimson Temptress. Red leather costume, athletic build, the usual comic book aesthetic.

They fought on the rooftops. Surprisingly the temptress was a pretty good fighter. But sadly, mortal prowess was no match for the genetically modified perfection of a Citizen. Volker made quick work of his nemesis, binding her wrists with some kind of energy restraints.

"You'll pay for your crimes," Volker intoned dramatically.

He transported her to his lair, secured her to a padded bench, and spanked her ass a few times while she moaned about reforming her evil ways. Then he fucked her from behind, one hand on her bound wrists, while she cried out promises to abandon villainy forever. Standard light bondage, nothing creative, nothing unexpected. When he finished inside her, she looked up with worshipful eyes and pledged herself to a new life of heroism.

The video ended with Volker addressing the camera. "Another soul saved from darkness. Remember, citizens. True pleasure comes from meaningful connection and helping others find redemption."

Moxie wanted to throw something at the screen.

"Meaningful connection," he muttered. "If not for him, I think the greatest crime the 'temptress' could commit is spitting in her customer's coffee as a Starbucks barista."

The Scarlett android tilted her head. "Does this content displease you?"

"Well. Displease is a strong word. Just lacks creativity." Moxie paced the bedroom. "He's got an entire planet to play with. Full Nexus support, infinite resources, total control over every aspect of that world's reality. And that's the best he could have offered? That, to him, was the pinnacle of sexual deviancy?"

The fundamental problem extended beyond Volker. Every citizen recording Moxie had seen over the past two months pretty much revealed the same pattern. These immortal gods with infinite resources and omniscient AI support created sex scenarios that would barely rate on Earth's pornography spectrum. You'd think fucking the pizza boy was a better plot.

The Crown activated with a gentle pulse.

INCOMING COMMUNICATION: NEXUS AI

A female voice materialized in his consciousness, bypassing ears entirely to manifest as pure thought. Calm, pleasant, infinitely patient.

"Greetings, Citizen Moxie. Congratulations on completing your integration period. Analysis of your neural patterns and preference data has identified an optimal world assignment for maximum pleasure fulfillment. Preparing briefing materials now. Please confirm readiness to receive mission parameters."

Finally, his turn to have some fun.

"Confirmed," Moxie said. "Let's see what you've got for me."