CHAPTER ELEVEN
Chris was having trouble focusing his eyes, and kept licking his lips
because his mouth was so dry. His knees were raw and bright red, and his hips
creaked and clicked weirdly from the hours of continuous thrusting. He was so
tired he could barely form coherent thoughts. The world swam in and out of
focus. The only thing he could focus on was his unabated, planet-sized lust,
and whatever willing orifice happened to be in front of him.
The woman currently kneeling before him, eagerly receiving his thrusts,
was blonde, bronzed, with small breasts and a hearty ass. Her vagina was a
loose puddle of human and Dane semen, the overflow running down the insides of
her thighs. She didn't care, she just kept rubbing her clitoris with one hand
while she grunted and gasped. The very air smelled of semen.
Gradually Chris became aware of a commotion down in the courtyard. He
got his eyes focused, and was surprised to see a large number of blue beetles
moving into view, marching toward the pews and the cluster of writhing flesh on
the floor. After blinking a few times he could make out helmets and
hard-shelled body armor and slowly came to the realization that the police had
arrived. The Garshak Blues, in force, each officer carrying a meter-long stun
rod.
Unoccupied women on the floor saw more males coming their way and
charged. The Blues, apparently unperturbed at this, gently reached out and
began tapping the nude grasping women with their stun rods. The touched women
dropped instantly to the floor, some twitching.
"End of the ceremony," one of the officers announced through his helmet
PA.
"They're totally jacked," another officer said casually as a dazed woman
ground her juicy groin against his suit's thigh plate. He touched her with his
stun rod and she fell onto her back, twitching. "Not a bad looking group this
time," he observed. A pretty redhead dropped to her hands and knees right in
front of him, presenting herself. She looked back over her shoulder just as the
officer slid the end of his stun rod deep into her slick channel and hit the
trigger. The woman bucked a foot off the floor and landed hard on her side,
unconscious.
"Jesus, Carl," one of the other Blues said, his helmet shaking.
Behind the advancing double row of armored officers were more uniforms,
collecting the stunned females and heaving them into a small PerpWagon, little
more than a small, motorized cage on wheels. Gradually the procession moved
across the courtyard. Wails of disappointed women echoed off the walls, but not
one of them stopped their fornicating until touched by a stun rod.
Chris saw an officer use her rod on a woman still being vigorously
plowed by a large Dane. She slumped to the floor while the Dane leapt sideways
with a yowl. It scurried to a corner and frantically licked at its pained
member.
"That's gotta hurt," the female trooper said, eliciting laughs from her
coworkers.
An armored officer lumbered up the stairs to the landing where Chris
still toiled in the blonde. Chris saw his eyes regarding him through he
helmet's visor. The bulky armored cop looked bored.
"It's not my fault," Chris panted. "I can't help it. They gave me
drugs." His thrusts never slowed.
"Tell me something I don't know," he was told, the officer's armored
bulk moving toward him. "You're not the first spacer they've grabbed, and you
sure as krikes won't be the last." He stopped beside Chris and raised the stun
rod. "Sorry about this, but I'm not going to have you humping my leg all the
way back to headquarters."
A flash lit the sky behind Chris' eyes and then he knew no more.
Berto found Gilly just outside the one-way security gate at the rear of
the Dairy. She was talking to several nursers, and surrounded by a dozen more,
all chatting happily. He pushed through the gate, massaging his aching forearm.
Gilly saw him as he came close, and gave him a little smirking smile.
"That wasn't so bad now, was it?" she said, eyes twinkling.
"They were about ready to rape me," he told her. "As soon as they saw
you walk out, they figured I was fair game." He massaged his forearm some more,
noticing just how sticky the fingers of that hand were.
"I wondered what you would do," Gilly said.
"I came with you," Berto told her.
"I bet you did," the nurser standing next to Gilly said with a laugh.
She, like all the other nursers standing around, fresh from the hoses, looked
flatchested and flabby, nipples huge and ringed in red from the vacuum hoses.
As big as Gilly's nipples had been before milking, now they were gigantic,
having expanded in width to fill the two-inch wide nozzle mouths and nearly
doubling in length. With all the talk of them being cowgirls, their nipples
really did look like udders after they'd been on the hoses. Drawteat aside, the
immediate size increase was only temporary.
All the nursers were relaxed, and seemed in good spirits. Berto
supposed there must be something inherently comforting in the act of milking
itself, even if there wasn't an infant involved.
"Did I tell you I pumped out three twenty-two just now?" Gilly asked
him. "That's a record. I'd like to do that every time if it didn't hurt so
much."
"You can stretch yourself out pretty quick if you want to do that," the
other nurser said. She was short, and had her short hair dyed a royal blue to
match her eyes, and wore a pink tongi tied loosely around her waist. It was
open at her neck and her top two breasts were pulled out. They were flat bags
on her chest, pale and finely traced with blurry blue veins. She was massaging
her nipples and Berto couldn't help but stare at them. Even though she looked
rather young, there was no denying she was suffering from a rather advanced case
of drawteat. Her nipples were well over ten centimeters long and as big around
as his thumb, fingers of flesh hanging from her breasts and looking for all the
world like udders, hard as it was for him to believe. In fact, it wasn't just
her nipples that had been sucked out. Only the last half of the fleshy fingers
were nipple; the rest was just plain breast. She looked as young as Gilly until
he got up close and saw the lines in the corners of her eyes.
"My teats are still tingling, I think they've got the vacuum system
turned up a click today." She nodded at Gilly's chest. "Couple or three weeks,
and then the stretching doesn't hurt nearly so bad. My sister did it, but her
teats were on the small side. Still are, really. Of course, at first it's
horrible." Berto couldn't stop staring as she massaged the udders on her chest.
They were like penises dangling from her breasts. The white drops at their tips
only added to the illusion.
"Is there a toilet anywhere around here?" Berto asked Gilly, lifting his
hand. He had to get out of there before he did something unwise.
"What do you want to wash that off for?" another nurser called out.
"The way you had that newbie squirtin' and screamin' I figured you'd want to cut
off that hand and put it in a trophy case." The whole crowd laughed, and Berto
felt the stares of a dozen women. He could've gone home with any one of them if
he decided to abandon Gilly, he was sure of it; nursers as a rule seemed to be
unmarried and, as he'd discovered, very, very friendly.
After he'd helped the redhead out with the aid of a few well-placed
fingers, the nurser in the next cubicle had pleaded with him, nearly crying, to
have sex with her. She was young, the youngest looking nurser he'd seen, and he
doubted that she'd been nursing for long -- the nozzles practically swallowed
her tiny breasts. They were mere swellings on her thin, boyish torso. She
looked uncertain, timid, and horny as hell -- the pop apparently was wreaking
havoc between her legs. She'd insisted she was sixteen years old -- Berto had
asked her three times, not wanting to end up in the city jail; her body could've
been that of a ten year old boy's but for all the nipples.
"I still can't believe she was sixteen," Berto said to the nurser that
had made the remark. She was muscular, and had her hair shorn to stubble.
"So what if she wasn't?" As she spoke he noticed her tongue was split,
forked like a snake's. Between that and her haircut, it became apparent to him
that she was a stud dahlia. There didn't seem to be too many nursers that
leaned that way. Maybe it was the hormones. "You didn't do anything that
violated the Natural Law."
"She looked sixteen," another nurser chimed in. "Maybe older."
"I just don't want to end up in jail," Berto said. He was wracking his
brain for the pertinent local laws, but his memdump seemed to have huge holes in
it when it came to certain subjects.
"For what?" he was asked by several people.
"Consensual sex is not illegal on Monsipur, silly," Gilly told him,
looking at him strangely. "What kind of crazy laws do they have where you're
from? Everyone heard her begging you to plow her, and you still only used your
fingers."
"I'm talking about--" he began, then shook his head. He was pretty sure
he didn't even want to know. The girl sure didn't have any complaints. "Never
mind. Where's the toilet?"
"There's one for nursers nearby, but I don't think men are allowed to
use it," Gilly said, looking around.
"I'm pretty sure that if you go down there and take the elevator up one
floor, or maybe it's two, there's a public restroom right there," Blue-Hair told
him. "I really need to get something to eat," she told Gilly. She tucked her
breasts away, for which Berto was grateful.
"And drink," Gilly agreed. "Why don't you meet us on the mezzanine
level," Gilly told him. "There's a little cafe I like right in sight of the
magrail platform. NOODLES. We'll meet you there."
"Okay."
New nursers arrived and others left, but the size of the crowd outside
the Dairy exit stayed about the same. Berto politely moved past them, ignoring
the hand that reached out and squeezed his ass, and started down the hallway in
the direction Blue-Hair had indicated. Around a corner he found a bank of
elevators, with the doors of one car conveniently standing open. He stepped
inside, but then had to pause. Not only wasn't he sure which floor he was on,
all the writing on the control panel was in Monny, and his grasp of the written
language seemed to be right around zero.
"Up one floor," he said, hoping that would get him where he needed to
go. The redhead had been a joy to pleasure, as had the bubbly girl, but there
was no mistaking where his hand had been. Her juices had run all the way down
to his elbow, and dried into a crackling aromatic glaze. His forearm creaked --
she'd been as tight as a clenched fist. He needed to urinate, too, and soon.
The lift doors closed and he felt the car begin to move upward. After
twenty seconds, however, it was obvious the elevator was taking him somewhere
other than "up one floor". Up about twenty floors is what he guessed, when the
car finally stopped and the doors opened.
The hallway was nondescript, stretching off into the distance in shades
of grey. Berto exited the elevator car and checked the immediate area for any
sign of a restroom or toilet. There was none, of course; he was nowhere near
where he was supposed to be, that much was clear. If he didn't know better he
would have sworn the lift had taken him clear across town to the Garshak
Superior, the hallway was lined with doors much like a hotel corridor. He
turned around to take the elevator back down just in time to see the doors
close.
There was a handwritten sign stuck to the wall next to the lift doors
but again he couldn't read it. After five minutes of pushing the call button
with no response, he began to suspect -- and rightly so -- that the sign said
Out Of Order. This floor only seemed to be serviced by the one elevator.
"Bastard," he cursed. There seemed to be no stairwell anywhere nearby, so he
started down the corridor, hoping to find a person, a stairwell door, or a floor
directory -- something.
The hallway curved gently to the left, featureless except for the doors,
which were numbered. All the numbers began with '23', so he assumed he was on
the twenty-third floor. He'd traveled nearly two-hundred feet down the hall
when the far end of the corridor came into view. It looked like it ended in a
T-intersection, and no elevator in sight. The elevator he'd come up in was
already out of sight around the curve behind him.
Voices and an open door on his left brought him up short. One of the
doors -- 2357 -- was open a foot, and light spilled out into the hall. He heard
a male voice, then another.
Berto had no wish to intrude; in fact, he wouldn't have been surprised
to learn that these were the staff living quarters. But he didn't want to go
wandering around the building for hours, lost, with Gilly waiting for him on the
mezzanine. He put his palm against the door and slowly pushed in open a few
more inches.
The solid door, painted a glossy blue-grey, slid open with just a soft
hiss as it rubbed against the thick carpet. It revealed a short corridor
decorated with small pictures and other personal items, obviously someone's
apartment. It was against his nature to intrude, but he really didn't want to
wander around for another ten minutes looking for the elevators.
He opened his mouth to call out a friendly hello, then stopped,
realizing it'd been a while since he'd heard any sounds from inside the
apartment. The hallway ran about twelve feet into the apartment before opening
up to the left into a room, presumably. The hallway's only feature was a door
on the left side that Berto would've bet led into a bathroom. Past where the
corridor ended there was a door on the right, and that suddenly opened, flooding
the dim room with light.
"There we go," Berto heard a man's voice say approvingly. A hand
appeared on the doorjamb, and then a woman stepped into view. Dark blonde hair
in a man's short cut, with an angular face. She was just pulling a thin shirt
over her head; other than that, she was nude, and at least eight months
pregnant. Her big belly was a giant globe that had just started to drop, and it
seemed even more massive on her thin frame. Her swollen breasts were tipped
with tiny, dark dark nipples.
The first thing she did was turn her head and look right at Berto
standing in the hallway staring at her. Her brows knitted together. Luckily,
his body language was that of a man who had been walking by and been brought up
short by the open door. She turned her head back into the room.
"Which one of you zipheads left the door open?" she scolded in a purring
voice, then headed down the hall. Berto froze for a second, eyes glued to her
body, then he gave a little nervous wave and scooted on down the hall, never
looking back. The blonde stuck her head out into the corridor, watched him for
a second, then closed the door.
"I was beginning to think you'd left me," Gilly said. She and Yuki of
the blue hair were standing outside the little cafe when Berto came jogging up.
They'd finished their food and had been debating whether they should wait any
longer for Berto.
"I got lost," he explained, panting a little.
"I wondered if you'd gotten a better offer," she said. He could tell
that she'd worked herself up with the thought of what might have been.
"I told you, I came with you," he repeated. "Unless you're tired of me?
I can go back to my hotel, alone, if you want."
Gilly looked down, and seemed to get a little weepy. Then a big grin
crept across her face and she shook her head. "Come see my apartment," she told
him.
They got in line for the magrail, Yuki tagging along for part of the way
at least, and talked until the next train arrived. It was a little early for
the mid-day lunch crowd and the car was only a third full.
"Are you still gloving those cute boys?" Gilly asked.
"The brothers? Every day after school. Training 'em right."
"How old are they now? Twenty-two?" Gilly smirked. "You've been
training them for almost three years, they ought to be getting pretty good.
What does their mother have to say?"
"She's grateful I get them out of her hair and tire them out so they
don't have the energy to misbehave. Triplets." Yuki shook her head in
disbelief. "I can't imagine raising one, much less three all at once."
"That's got to be tough," Gilly agreed. "But you're going to spoil them
for natural women, they're going to think everyone's as bubbly as we are."
Yuki shrugged. "Maybe they'll all marry nursers."
"If their pops have been hitting the other girls like us lately, those
boys might end up all married to the same nurser."
They'd only been underway for a few minutes, chatting amiably, when Berto
looked up to see another woman dressed as if she was a nun standing in front of
him. She wasn't the same nun he'd seen on the magrail coming in; this one
seemed younger, just as pretty, but less regal, somehow. The black robes she
wore covered her to wrists and ankles, with many folds around her legs. A
ten-inch-long white cross hung between her thighs from a double string of large
white beads looped loosely around her hips. The black, flat-topped headdress
enclosed her heart-shaped face in a white frame, and came down to her shoulders.
She had a healthy chest, and the baggy habit couldn't conceal her hourglass
figure, but Berto wasn't sure if he was actually supposed to notice such things
on a nun.
"Good morning, brother," she said to him. Her hands were clasped
together at her waist. "How are you this beautiful day?"
"Fine, thank you," he replied with a smile. He hoped responding
wouldn't encourage her to try to convert him or something. The magrail started
around a curve with a slight jolt and she had to widen her stance to keep her
balance. Berto noticed the nun was wearing black, pointy-toed high heel boots
of some kind. Not exactly what he would consider proper footgear for a nun.
She tilted her head and regarded him with a warm, loving smile. "Is
there any way I can ease your day? You seem tired. Together let us honor him
by rejoicing in those gifts which God has given us." She turned her head and
smiled at Berto's two companions. Her body swayed as the car gently rocked
around another curve. What he had assumed was a fold in the skirt of her robe
revealed itself to be a slit which went all the way up past her hip. A bare
thigh, shapely and muscular, peeked out at him, before the natural rocking
motion of the train caused the slit to close again. It was a hell of a thigh,
the kind any man would want to run his tongue up and down. Smooth, lightly
tanned . . . . He blinked his eyes, then looked up into her blue eyes. They
were clear and free of deceit, and stared at him with honesty and kindness.
"Maybe some other time," he said dully.
"No thank you, Sister," Yuki said. Gilly smiled and shook her head.
The woman in black smiled and inclined her head toward them. "May the
love of our Lord God stay with you always," she told them, and moved to step
away. The car jolted again, just a little bump, but it was enough to throw the
Sister off balance. Berto's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.
She smiled. "Why, thank--" She stopped, and regarded him quizzically,
cocking her head. She'd seen the speed at which he'd moved, knew what kind of
reflexes that took, felt the unusual strength in his grip. Her free hand came
up to touch his fingers still clamped around her wrist, subtly evaluating the
muscle and tendons. "You're a long way from home," she murmured. Gilly gave
her a strange look. Berto saw it, and quickly pulled his hand away, brows knit
together. The Sister smiled again, realizing she'd made him uncomfortable, and
moved off down the car without another word. As she walked he could see there
were several slits in her skirt, all of which ran nearly to her waist.
Near the end of the car the nun engaged a professional-looking couple in
conversation. The pair were in their forties or fifties, the man in a
traditional suit, the woman wearing a boxy business blazer over a TwoSkin
sheathskirt. After less than a minute the nun turned away from the couple and
bent at the waist, pressing her palms flat against the wall of the car. The man
lifted up the skirt of her robes and threw it over the nun's back. Underneath,
she was nude, and in even better shape than Berto would have guessed. The man
fished around in his pants, pulled out his penis, and stepped up behind the
Sister. As soon as he pushed inside her he started gasping and quivering. He
had to hold onto the Sister's hips just to keep his balance. His blazered
partner watched with an amused expression on her face, until the nun reached up
under the woman's short skirt with one hand. Within seconds she was arching her
hips forward, up on her tiptoes, mouth in a huge "O".
Berto looked at Gilly, then at Yuki, both of whom were staring out the
windows looking bored. So were most of the other passengers, except for a
couple on the bench halfway down the car having sex. A man, still clothed but
with his tongi undone, was straddled by a small, skinny figure bouncing
enthusiastically up and down. She was nude, and so small and thin the cock she
was spitted on looked enormous by comparison. As Berto stared at her he
realized she couldn't weigh more than twenty-five or thirty kilos. Her feet
were flat on the bench to either side of the man, fingers interlaced behind his
neck, and he stared into her eyes as she energetically bounced. The only person
inside the car who seemed to have any interest in the couple was a young boy of
about three industriously picking his nose.
"Okay, I realize I'm from off-world, and we have different customs," he
said, his voice cracking, "but would someone please explain to me just what the
hell is going on?" It came out almost in a shout.
At the sound of his strained voice, the bouncing female turned her head
and looked his way. When Berto finally got a good look at her he shot to his
feet in outrage and pointed, looking back at Gilly.
"Are you going to try to tell me that's legal?" he demanded, nearly
shouting. He took a step toward the couple, but stopped, sensing something out
of kilter. Gilly and Yuki looked startled, and looked to where he was pointing.
Gilly's mouth opened in a huge "O" when she understood the source of Berto's
concern.
"Is he talking about the squeaker?" Yuki whispered to her fellow nurser.
"She's probably older than you," Gilly tried to tell him, talking
quietly, hoping he would sit down and not embarrass himself or them any further.
"She's not -- it's a birth defect, caused by a drug they used to use to prevent
early labor, before I was even born. Whoever took it -- their children, that
is, just stopped growing when they reached a certain age. We call 'em
squeakers."
Gilly's attempt to avoid a scene didn't work. "Little people," the
female in question corrected her angrily, in a high voice. Her small ass came
briefly to a rest on top of the man's lap as she glared at Berto and Gilly. Her
back shone with perspiration. The top of her head was below her partner's.
"Goddamn ignorant offworlders," the man growled. "We've been married
for fifteen fucking years," he said indignantly to Berto. His hands, while not
big, almost completely encircled his wife's waist. She was scowling at Berto,
face partially hidden by one of her knobby knees. There were a few lines around
her eyes and mouth, he could see them now what with her face scrunched all up.
The two of them stared at Berto for a few more seconds, then the female
whispered into her husband's ear and began slowly grinding on him. She and her
husband kissed passionately, and he reached up to pinch her tiny nipples. She
looked back at Berto as she worked her hips and grunted, just to tweak him.
After a few seconds she tired of taunting him and went back to kissing her
husband. Soon she was sliding up and down on his shaft again, gathering speed.
Berto stood there for a good thirty seconds, mouth hanging open, staring
at the couple. Finally he sat down, still watching the miniscule woman bouncing
up and down on a penis as thick as her ankle. She was panting and grunting and
working her hips with practiced skill. He noticed quite a few people in the car
were staring at him now.
"How'd you like to have her chest?" Yuki murmured, nodding at the
squeaker. "Might as well be a boy. Krikes, I bet she's as tight as a vise,
look at her hips. Where does she put it?"
"He's big," Gilly agreed quietly, nodding. "Most squeakers can't handle
a normal sized man without elastomers or years of work, and look, she's taking
him to the base. Krikes, you can see her stomach bulging out. Well, he did say
they'd been married fifteen years, that's plenty of time to've stretched her
out. I bet when they started dating one finger was enough for her."
"How could you tell, just by looking at her, before she said anything,
that she was a squeaker?" Berto asked Gilly after another long pause.
At first she didn't understand the question. Then she got his point.
"Oh! Well, ah . . . hmmm."
