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CHAPTER ELEVEN--THE COLLECTIVE
S'Leah had been expecting a five or ten minute walk, but she'd been trudging between the towering airships for fifteen minutes and still couldn't see the red one Duster had mentioned. She had to assume his directions were good, since she had no alternative, but it was getting dark and she didn't relish getting lost in the huge junkyard
Up close the airplanes were even more impressive in size. At least half still perched on their landing gear and towered over her, blocking the stars as they slowly appeared.
A low growl grew audible behind her and S'Leah turned, gripping the handle of the tanto inside her bag. Instead of one of the many dogs inhabiting Gravestown, two of whom were paralleling her, she saw a motorized buggy approaching her across the sandy desert floor. S'Leah hadn't seen a gas powered vehicle since she'd crossed Big River into the Western Territories. The Gravestown residents must have located a well with a pump that still worked, and found some way to refine the oil.
Gwenda pulled up next to her with a grin. The buggy had four knobby balloon tires and pulled a small trailer.
"I can't believe Dusty just left you to find yer own way," Gwenda said with a shake of her head. She wore thick-lensed goggles to protect her eyes from the blowing sand. She jerked a thumb back to the trailer. "Jump on."
S'Leah sat on the flatbed trailer next to Miri and Gwenda slowly accelerated down the row of planes. Blue clouds of exhaust burped from the buggy's tailpipe every time Gwenda changed gears.
The red plane, with looked brown in the gathering gloom, was just a minute ahead. Gwenda turned left, then right, then followed a narrow aisle for half a mile. Then the aisle opened up into a large clearing a hundred yards across. Three fire pits dotted the clearing, clustered in the center. Blankets and rickety handmade chairs circled the pits.
After the emptiness of the desert the fifteen or so people in the clearing seemed like a crowd to S'Leah. She and Miri climbed off the trailer and Gwenda drove off to collect more stragglers.
In the deepening shadows S'Leah could see large gardens underneath most of the planes within view. She supposed the shade made life easier for the plants. Also, several of the planes looked inhabited. She saw movement and the flickering light of candles in two, and a wide ramp ran down from the back of a third. The ground at the end of the ramp was packed hard and dotted with footprints.
A fire was started in one pit, and soon the other two were going as well. S'Leah drifted in that direction but couldn't tell what they were using for fuel. The desert wasn't exactly rich with wood.
"Dried vines," one of the firebuilders told S'Leah when she asked. "Where it's shady they grow up the landing gear and just tear apart the aluminum. We cut them down and dry them in the sun. They burn like tumbleweeds."
More and more women filled the clearing as the light went out of the sky and the stars came out. Double spits were set up over each fire and over a dozen skinned and cleaned rabbits and four sand lizards were produced.
As the meat began to cook S'Leah was given a spot to sit in front of one of the fires, on an old red plaid blanket. Small bowls were handed out, filled with mixed greens and berries in a sparse salad. Women sat around all the fires and ate, talking quietly and laughing. On one side of S'Leah was Gwenda, acting as a sort of host. To her other was a darkly tanned woman simply called Gomez, in brown leathyr pants and a denim longsleeve shirt.
"Do you do this every night?" S'Leah asked Gwenda, looking around the clearing at the fires and the laughing women.
Gwenda looked around and smiled. "Well, this is our gathering place, and we sleep around here, in the planes." She nodded her head at the airplane with the well-traveled ramp. "Most every night we've got a fire going, and something cooking, but we're here or there." She waved a hand at the surrounding darkness. "Not everyone likes to be sociable every night. But every fifth night we fire up all three pits and have a party. Everyone has to make an appearance, and share what news—and meat—they have, even if they're not feeling friendly. A few of the women make what they can with the vegetables, and we pass around the tea." Gwenda handed S'Leah a steaming mug. She sniffed at the tangy brew it held.
"Chukka root tea," Gwenda told her knowingly. S'Leah had never heard of chukka root, much less its tea, but she nodded and took a sip. Not bad. Gwenda smiled, and went back to talking to Mia. Or Nia, S'Leah couldn't tell. Actually, whoever it was had changed into baggy shorts and a poorly made brown leathyr vest, so S'Leah had no way of knowing which sister it was.
"S'Leah, have you met Tia?" Gwenda asked her. Tia gave her a wide smile.
"Tia," S'Leah repeated. "No, I haven't heard that name before."
"Hope this isn't too coarse for you," the ponytailed blonde said, waving her hand at the fires and the roasting rabbits. "Sometimes I think we forget what it must look like to cultured folk."
"Is it that apparent?" S'Leah said.
Tia smiled and wandered toward the nearest fire. Halfway there she met up with two figures and they began talking. S'Leah sipped at her tea and watched them converse. Tia, talking to Mia and Nia if she had to judge from their clothing. And, except for their clothing, all perfectly identical.
S'Leah leaned over to Gwenda. "How many of them are there?" she asked, nodding at the trio. Gwenda looked in that direction.
"Four," she said.
"Mia, Nia, Tia, and…?"
"Pia," Gwenda said. She peered around and pointed at the third bonfire. Pia wore leathyr shorts, a long sleeve button-down shirt, and wore her long hair loose.
Clones. S'Leah studied them over her tea as she waited for the rabbit to cook. Found unsuited to whatever task they'd been grown for? Given their freedom? On the run? How they'd ended up in this arid junkyard was probably quite a story.
By the time the meat arrived, rabbit and lizard, sliced into strips and accompanied by a fresh baked roll, S'Leah was joking and laughing with the women around her. She felt uncharacteristically relaxed and free of worries. Surrounded by friendly people, eating good food, the anger she held in her heart sunk out of sight. She felt like a normal person, talking and laughing, and didn't hold herself in as she always did. The good food and laughter, the cool air and the heat from the fire combined to make her forget her past, lower her guard, and to freely give of herself.
"Don't you worry about attacks?" S'Leah asked Gwenda as she leaned back on her elbows, stomach full from the excellent meal.
"Not too much," Gwenda said. "We're a lot better defended than you'd think. The dogs spot anybody long before they get close, so we get advance warning of any visitors, day or night. We also have quite a few weapons, heavy weapons. A few that we bartered for, but most we just found in the graveyard and repaired."
"And this place is a maze, especially at night," Gomez added, leaning in toward S'Leah. Her face came close and she licked her lips, staring at S'Leah's mouth. After a few seconds she leaned back, smiling.
"We've only had one major raid in the past five years," Gwenda said. "A nomad caravan stopped and thought we'd be easy pickins."
"What happened?" S'Leah found herself talking to Gwenda's chest. Somehow Gwenda's coveralls had become unzipped down nearly to her navel, exposing the inner third of both breasts. They threatened to spill out entirely every time she moved. S'Leah's jacket was nowhere to be found, and the cool night air kept her nipples painfully hard, but she didn't care.
"They're buried in Northwest Thirty," Gwenda told her.
"All except Cutt," Gomez said, leaning in again.
"And their dogs," another woman sitting nearby in darkness said, and gave a laugh.
"Cutt?" S'Leah asked, her face close enough to Gomez' to feel her breath.
Gomez looked around and then nodded at a woman standing on the far side of the fire. S'Leah couldn't believe she hadn't noticed her before.
"She was a statua, a living piece of art for Clan Infibula before being sold to someone who sold her to someone who got killed by the nomads," Gomez whispered in her ear. "She killed four of them herself when the opportunity arose."
At first glance Cutt appeared squat, but S'Leah soon saw that her body was thick with muscle, making her appear shorter than she was. She stood before the fire and stared into its flames, totally nude in the cool evening air. S'Leah herself knew of the statua, and Cutt had probably never worn clothes. They would have covered up her tattoos.
The tattoos covered her entire body from her hairline to her ankles, done solely in jet black ink. There was much more bare flesh than inked, but every part of her body was accented in some way. She had an exaggerated, inked widow's peak, and her eyelids were totally black. Thin black lines covered the outside edge of her ears. There was a tattooed necklace with pendant around her throat, and a sun with black flames encircling her navel A peaked crescent on the lower slope of her muscled belly only accentuated the black triangle beneath it—her hairless mound had been completely inked.
When Cutt turned S'Leah saw long ladder-like designs running down the sides of her arms and legs, with another down her spine that ended in a triangle pointing down into the crack of her ass. Her nipples and areola were black, as were her lips. Her head was shaved but for an oval patch on top; from that grew a waist length black ponytail. The sides and back of her head were adorned with rows of patterns that could have been a foreign language.
Cutt squatted on her heels across the circle from S'Leah, and she caught a glimpse of silver between her legs. "What's that?" she asked Gomez.
"Clan Infibula snipped her lips off and sewed her slit shut, just like they do all their property," Gomez said. "They just left her button, but tattooing it killed off most of her nerve endings."
"No, what's that silver?"
"Oh. That's a little chain she'd got herself laced up with." Gomez leaned close again. "You have very pretty breasts," she breathed, and slowly reached a hand out. When S'Leah didn't raise any objection she began caressing them. Her palm was rough against S'Leah's skin, but her touch was gentle. S'Leah's hard cock throbbed where it was wedged down her pantleg. Firelight danced across the obvious bulge, but Gomez hadn't seen it yet, she was too focused on S'Leah's naked breasts.
S'Leah heard soft grunting and looked over her shoulder into the darkness. There, lit by the flickering orange flames, she saw a heavy breasted woman on her knees in the sand, grunting in time to a Great Dane's thrusts. Her breasts swung back and forth as the dog slammed its loins against her. The dog probably weighed what the woman did, if not more, and appeared quite well equipped. Both of them appeared well-practiced at the cross-species act. S'Leah saw another coupling under the nearest plane, as well as the silhouette of a Doberman just climbing atop a woman beside the most distant fire.
S'Leah turned back to her own fire. Gomez was now nuzzling her neck while massaging her breasts. S'Leah's cock was a bar of molten steel.
"Have you ever had a dog? A big dog?" she whispered into S'Leah's ear. S'Leah shook her head. Gwenda had unzipped her coveralls the rest of the way and stepped out of them. Two of the clones, S'Leah didn't know which ones, were voraciously sucking on Gwenda's nipples.
"There's nothing like it," Gomez murmured. She tongued S'Leah's ear and slid her hand down to the crotch of her pants.
"Whoa! Just what the hell do we have here?" Gomez' exclamation got the attention of half a dozen women. She unzipped S'Leah's pants and pulled out her stiff organ, then her scrotum. The women looked at S'Leah's cock, then her breasts, then back at her cock.
"What all do you have down here?" said Gomez, slipping her hand back into S'Leah's pants. Her fingers soon found S'Leah's small slit as well as her bulging sphincter.
"Are you a man or a woman?" Gomez asked, running her finger along S'Leah's moist slit. "Feels like you've got everything in here. Are you fertile?"
"No," S'Leah gasped, as the finger played with her slit. "Hormones," she gasped, by way of explanation. She didn't know what was wrong with her. Normally she could keep her strong libido under control without much effort at all. Now she found herself lifting her hips off the ground in hopes one of the women clustered around her would touch her flesh. Gomez took the opportunity to pull S'Leah's pants down to her ankles and push her knees apart.
"Nice cock," Gwenda said admiringly as Gomez pushed it this way and that, studying the small slit below S'Leah's bag. She pushed a finger deep into S'Leah, then tried a second.
"No, it's too tight," S'Leah protested, pushing at Gomez' hand.
Gomez could've gotten the second finger in but relented. S'Leah looked up and found Gwenda and all four clones standing around her.
"We want her," Mia said. Gomez looked up, one fist wrapped around S'Leah's veiny shaft.
"But I'm the one that found it," Gomez protested.
Miri stepped into view and put a hand on Gomez' shoulder. "Come on, lover, I've got something else for you to do," she murmured into her ear.
Gomez relented and S'Leah found herself being led up the ramp of a large cargo plane. The bare fuselage was one big living area subdivided into sleeping quarters by blankets hung over ropes, worn pillows and mattresses covering the floor. Candle lanterns hung from the ceiling and lit the interior with a warm orange glow. S'Leah could hear the soft sounds of lovemaking but couldn't see who they were coming from.
A crowd of women surrounded S'Leah on a mattress. They undressed her and each other speedily. As she knelt on the mattress S'Leah found herself encircled by the ponytailed blonde clones. After a time she realized she could tell them apart—Pia wore her hair loose, and Mia had a bruise on her left forearm. Nia had a small freckle on the outside of her left breast, and Tia was none of the above.
Tia stood above her and kissed S'Leah deeply, cocking her head back. Their tongues wrestled passionately and S'Leah reached up to caress her neck.
S'Leah's organ jutted forward aggressively as she bent against the kiss. Mia rolled onto her back before S'Leah and inched backward until her head was almost between S'Leah's thighs. She arched her head back and swallowed the end of S'Leah's throbbing organ.
S'Leah gasped and broke the kiss. She looked down to see Mia's long body laying before her, her lower jaw working against her tender shaft. Mia pushed the back of her head deeper into the mattress, arched her back, and slid backward onto S'Leah's cock, swallowing all but a fraction of an inch. S'Leah groaned and watched the muscles in Mia's slender throat working as she sucked and licked, her nose buried in S'Leah's bag. Her tongue squirmed against the top of the veiny shaft and she began rocking forward and back. S'Leah moaned as Mia worked her cock. Tia grabbed her by the hair and tilted her head back again, muffling her moans with a wild tongue and soft lips.
Mia reached up and grabbed S'Leah's ass. She pulled her forward, with the result of pulling her cheeks apart. Pia was on her knees behind S'Leah, greasing up her fingers. When her cell-sister spread S'Leah's muscular globes her spincter bulged outward aggressively. Pia stared at S'Leah's rear portal She'd never seen one like it, an ugly ring of bulging, calloused muscle, but she'd heard of such things. She covertly eyed S'Leah's thighs, whose musculature confirmed her suspicions. S'Leah was a former pony--only someone who'd lived and worked in a tailplug could have such an enlarged sphincter.
Gently she inserted the tip of a finger into S'Leah's rear channel, with no discernible reaction. She moved the greased finger back and forth for a while, then inserted a second. Her hands were small, and S'Leah's bulging knot was huge.
With Mia expertly throating her cock, and Tia kissing her passionately, it took a while for S'Leah to notice Pia's fingers gently moving back and forth in her desensitized channel. S'Leah broke the kiss and gasped for breath.
"I like it," she moaned. Tia reached down and began playing with her breasts, rolling S'Leah's nipples between her fingertips. Not only didn't it hurt, it felt good.
Mia was expertly skilled and S'Leah couldn't help but thrust her hips. She bent forward over Mia, hands on the mattress on either side of her hips and began thrusting into Mia's mouth.
"More fingers," S'Leah groaned. "Use more fingers."
Pia raised her eyebrows and looked up at Tia. She twisted her hand to show Tia that she already had four fingers in S'Leah's ass. Tia grabbed the bottle of lube and liberally coated Pia's hand and forearm.
Nia had her face buried between her cell-sister Mia's thighs, which only seemed to encourage Mia. She sucked hard at S'Leah's thrusting organ and spread her own thighs wide.
"Oh God, Oh God!" S'Leah cried out, the sensations incredible. The pleasure had blurred into one glowing orange ball, and she was unable to tell where Mia's mouth stopped and Pia's fingers started. She would buck forward, driving her cock deep down Mia's throat. Then, when she would pull back, Pia would thrust her fingers deep into her thick ring of muscle, stroking downward against what would have been the prostate on a man. The four fingers became four fingers and her small hand up to the thumb, then it was her whole hand. By the time S'Leah was shrieking and shuddering on top of Mia, her cock spurting seed wildly down her throat, Pia's small hand was inside her up to the middle of her slender forearm. S'Leah's muscular ring gripped her corkscrewing forearm tightly, pulsing as the waves of pleasure washed over her.
Gwenda was but a few yards away. She'd dragged Georgie up into the plane and made him lay on his back. She was still nude, her nipples big and dark in the candlelight.
"That's good Georgie, you just lie there," she told him, unzipping his coveralls. As the dirty coveralls fell open they revealed a white lumpy body covered with odd tufts of hair. Gwenda reached inside the coveralls and pulled out Georgie's penis and stroked it. His cock quickly stiffened and grew into an odd shape. It's tiny head rested atop an immensely wide shaft. Georgie stared at it like he'd never seen it before as Gwenda pushed him down. Gwenda quickly squatted over it and guided the small head between her thighs.
"Oh yeah," she murmured. "Urk!. Oh God but you're thick, boy," she muttered as she sank onto his stumpy organ. Georgie lay there blinking and silent, staring up at the ceiling, as Gwenda paused to let her insides adjust to his bulk. A small woman appeared, stopping next to Georgie's misshapen head. She was already nude and eager to join in.
"Room for one more?" she asked Gwenda, who was gently rocking back and forth.
"Yeah, take a seat," Gwenda groaned. The small woman did just that, on Georgie's face.
"Licky, Georgie," Gwenda told him. "Licky lick."
Georgie mumbled something unintelligible, opened his mouth, and out came his tongue. It was a massive pink thing, a blunt column of muscle that he squirmed into the woman's tanned folds. She sucked in air and pushed down hard.
"Lick that split, Georgie," Gwenda cooed, moving steadlily up and down on his fat cock. She could see his freakishly huge tongue slithering around between the woman's skinny thighs, massaging everything at once.
On the far side of S'Leah Miri had stripped herself and then Gomez, then pushed Gomez over onto all fours. Miri had strapped on a massively ridged black rubbed dildo and was busy plunging it into her partner. The sight of her huge belly thrusting back and forth was one of the many indelible images burned into S'Leah's brain that night.
S'Leah was only vaguely aware of al the activity around her. As she lay on Mia's taut body and tried to catch her breath Pia began to slowly twist the hand still deep inside her bowels.
"Oh God," S'Leah gasped, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. She rested her forehead on Mia's stomach even as Mia once again began sucking on S'Leah's still turgid organ.
Pia wrapped her free hand around the base of S'Leah's sack and began tugging gently, then stuck the thumb of that hand into S'Leah's feminine channel. With a shuddering cry S'Leah orgasmed once again, sobbing, her tear-stained cheek pressed against Mia's smooth mound. Nia stroked her head compassionately, using her other hand to stroke Mia's slippery folds. The air was getting thick with the familiar scent of sex, and Nia predicted they wouldn't tire of their visitor until near daybreak. She was right.
"Did you get any sleep at all?" Duster asked her, hitching the last of his team to the coach.
"Some," S'Leah mumbled, squinting against the early morning sun. An hour, maybe two.
Duster grinned at her discomfort and double-checked all his ponies' leathyrs. He himself had gotten six hours of sleep after mounting four of the locals. He grinned wider at the memory. He loved Gravestown.
S'Leah stood beside the coach, waiting until everything was ready before climbing aboard. She was sore and achey in places and ways she hadn't been since her days in the royal stables, and was trying to avoid unnecessary movement. She'd lost count how many times she'd climaxed—eight, near as she could remember, until there was no more juice to be wrung from her body. She had never experienced sex of that quantity or duration, ever, and hadn't known what her body was capable of. She needn't have worried, the royal gene-splicers knew their trade—her organ hadn't softened until she'd passed out from exhaustion.
She'd had each of the clones at least once, and Gwenda twice. She'd fucked Miri, the whole time worried about hurting her baby; meanwhile Miri had been shouting Harder! Harder! S'Leah had done things last night that she was finding hard to believe in the harsh light of the morning after—like jacking herself off while a circle of women cheered her on. Or laying on her back, ankles tied to one of the clotheslines to keep them up, while the clones took turns fisting her ass with their tiny hands. They hadn't stopped no matter how she begged, and that had been when she'd begun dry climaxing, the orgasms increasing in frequency until they became continuous and she'd lost the power of rational thought.
"Don't forget that oil now, Dusty," Gwenda called out to him. She'd driven them to the stables on her buggy and waited to see them off. Most of the other women had been gone by the time S'Leah had awakened inside the airplane hull, sore and crusty. She'd washed up inside while Dusty strapped the leathyrs on his ponies. She wore her same outfit from the day before, but couldn't bear to put on the jacket. Her nipples were raw.
Dusty patted his pocket where he'd put the women's shopping list. "If they've got it, you'll get it," he told Gwenda. She nodded and looked at S'Leah.
"Will we be seein ya again when Dusty comes back around?" she asked.
"Probably not," S'Leah told her.
"Too bad," Gwenda said. She stepped close, and lowered her voice slightly, just enough so that Dusty couldn't overhear. "We always welcome those with generous heart, no matter who they were in a former life, what mistakes they might have made," she told S'Leah. "If you're ever looking for a home, you have one here."
S'Leah blinked in surprise, staring at the big woman. Gwenda stared back at her, her head inclined, and then her face broke out into a big smile. "Besides," she went on, no longer quiet, "my boy really liked you."
"Your boy?"
"My son, Georgie," Gwenda told her.
"Oh," S'Leah said. "You're fertile? I'm surprised you're out here. Didn't you want to be spoiled at one of the inseminariums?"
Gwenda shook her head. "It must have been a fluke. I was a public hole at a traveling circus for fifteen years and never had but Georgie."
S'Leah nodded. "When's Miri due?" she asked, changing the subject.
Gwenda waved the question away like an errant mosquito. "Oh, she's not pregnant," Gwenda told her. "It's just a water baby."
"Oh."
"She was a fetish in the Clan Bukkake harem," Gwenda explained.
Altering the bodies of ones playthings was a tradition as old as the clans, and the fetishettes were the logical extreme of that tradition. S'Leah had never seen a woman with a water baby before, but she knew of them, just as the women of Gravestown had heard of women with male equipment like S'Leah.
S'Leah knew the process of filling and stretching took months, then the balloon inside the woman's womb was sealed off when her owner was satisfied with her size. Hormones were often used to induce lactation, not just in pregnant fetishettes but in women who were chosen to become wetnurses, as well as some small percentage of each clan's harem just for the sake of variety. One of her benefactor's specialists had once told her the transformation of a pregnant fetishette was one of the easiest to complete, although not the quickest.
"Just look at how long it takes to train a pony in comparison," he'd said to her, ignorant of her past.
"Well, I think we're ready to go," Duster said.
"You come back anytime," Gwenda told S'Leah, then gripped her in a tight hug. S'Leah blinked in surprise, and reached an uncertain hand up.
"There's a place for you here if you ever get tired of travellin," Gwenda whispered into her ear. "You'll never be more at home than with us." She kissed S'Leah on the lips and then backed away, giving Dusty a hearty wave.
"Next time I'm getting you up into my plane," she scolded him. "What's the matter, don't you love me anymore?"
"You know you're the only one in my heart," Dusty told her with a grin as S'Leah carefully climbed into the coach. He flicked the reins and the ponies leaned forward to get the coach rolling.
"It's not your heart I was talking bout," Gwenda said with a barking laugh, and turned with a farewell wave. Dusty raised a hand in goodbye and turned to look down the road past his team. Gwenda stopped in the shade of the shed and silently watched the coach pull away, S'Leah's face behind the window, staring at her.
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