CHAPTER FOUR
Hamee was nearly shaking with anticipation. As the saying went, he
didn't know whether to bark or go bite. He paced back and forth in his hotel
room, rubbing his hands together. He'd had high hopes when he'd learned
prostitution was legal on Monsipur, but the reality was a whole other world.
It began when the holomodel recommended he buy some SweetSeed if he was
going to take advantage of the legal sex trade onplanet. Then was handed a
packet of X-Tend by the Tourism Bureau official! Unbelievable. Then as soon as
he was out on his own and headed for the hotel he started seeing the adverts.
For sex clubs, sex shows on the I-Vid, individual sex workers . . . everything,
and more. The holosigns were everywhere, and most featured nudity to one degree
or another. They seemed to be clustered around the spaceport in an obvious call
to the tourist credit, and thinned out as he neared the hotel. But it was near
the hotel that he saw his first bare-breasted native. He nearly tripped over a
potted plant staring at her bouncing teats. The owner of said teats saw Hamee's
near tumble, and instead of being offended by his staring she just laughed and
continued on her way. He popped one of the little green pills then. The
package said the SweetSeed would begin working within an hour, less if taken on
an empty stomach, and the effects should last eight standard hours.
Talking to the hotel employees (apparently they had no shortage of
manpower on Monsipur, he hadn't seen a mech yet performing a menial task), he'd
learned that not only was the sex trade legal planetwide, but that Garshak had a
section of the city entirely devoted to the business of physical pleasure.
FunTown. They said it was elbow-to-elbow with sex clubs, most of which had no
equal anywhere in the universe. He'd heard that before, but remained openminded
and optimistic, although if any of this small planet's clubs could top Outer
Pearl's Growler Club he'd eat his deckboots. His toes still curled at that
memory.
He'd taken a long, hot shower and then eaten a big meal -- real food,
not ship's gruel -- while perusing the I-Vid. Through it he could access the
files of over a thousand individual sex workers that catered to hotel guests in
Garshak exclusively. He'd spent an hour in front of the screen, totally
mesmerized. And overwhelmed. It seemed he'd never be able to make a decision;
after so many weeks on The Nancy, every one of the women looked spectacular.
And their prices! Amazingly inexpensive. Hamee checked the I-Vid's computer to
make sure there wasn't some screwy local exchange rate that he didn't know
about, but no -- their prices were in Universal Credits. Each file carried
still video shots of the women from different angles, a list of their physical
measurements, and a short, two or three minute video of the women talking dirty
or masturbating or demonstrating their technique on a partner. It was almost
too much for him to take. Most of the women described their specialties, but
Hamee wished he'd had Berto and his memdump in the room with him to define some
of the slang. Terms like Mergender, PCA, Plug, a few others. One skinny but
flabby brunette wearing a pink tongi talked about how she was a lackey. Hamee
had no idea what that meant, but she seemed ghostly white in comparison to the
other girls. There was another entire subdirectory of pulatritas, listing
squeakers (whatever they were) and morphs, that he didn't even look at..
When he found her, though, there was no doubt in his mind which of the
treats he had to see. Monetta was her name, and he'd punched in a call for
service to her through the I-Vid's terminal just after seeing her picture. He'd
received a message back almost immediately that she was available, so now all he
had to do was wait.
He'd been told she'd arrive within fifteen minutes, but after such a
long dry spell his anticipation made the fifteen minutes seem like an eternity.
Hamee had popped an X-Tend, not because he needed help to steel up but because
he was afraid that two minutes with Monetta would be all his organ could take
after so much inactivity. And two minutes wouldn't be nearly enough.
He cupped his palm to his face and sniffed his breath. Uck. He popped
a FreshMouth and continued pacing. He didn't know why he was so nervous. He
didn't share Berto's distaste for buying sex. He'd scooped whores on a dozen
different planets and had gotten it plenty of times for free, too. It had to be
because of the extra-long dry spell. Not only had they been shipboard for six
weeks, with a bitchy cocktease passenger whose presence made it impossible for
him to get any privacy with the synthetic, but for over a week before that
they'd been on New Mantique, the most repressed goddamn planet in the known
universe.
The soft chime of the door sounded and Hamee jumped. He rushed over and
opened the door without looking at the security screen to make sure it was
Monetta outside and not some armed bandits. He knew better, but the problem was
most of his blood wasn't anywhere near his brain.
She stood silently in the hallway, her head cocked to one side. The
woman wore a flowing yellow tongi that pooled around her feet on the floor. Its
pointed hood obscured her face.
"Come in, come in," Hamee gushed, his voice caught in his throat.
Monetta glided through the doorway silently, her hands hidden inside the folds
of the robe. She moved to the center of the room as Hamee shut the door and
turned to face him. Her hands appeared, rose up to pull back the hood and
reveal her face. Hamee's breath caught in his chest and his heart pounded
erratically -- the I-Vid picture hadn't done her justice.
"You're amazing," he breathed reverently.
Monetta smiled, her teeth dazzlingly white. She undid the cloth belt
around her waist and let the tongi drop to the floor. She was nude underneath,
and Hamee was seriously afraid he was going to need a medico, his heart was
thumping so hard and fast.
"You like?" she asked, raising her arms and pirouetting.
Oh, I like!" he said. "By krikes I do. I like it a lot."
Monetta had had her entire body permdyed black. From the top of her
head to the tip of her little toes, every centimeter of her skin was dyed. Not
black like a person with heavy pigmentation -- their skin was closer to the
color brown than anything else. Monetta was pitch black. Ebony. It was as if
a shadow had detached itself and was standing in his room. She was proportioned
just right, with full but not too big breasts over a narrow waist and full hips,
every curve and crease of her body the color of midnight.
In stark contrast to her skin was her long hair, yellow as straw and
perfectly straight, hanging down to the small of her back. A small trimmed
triangle of blonde curls decorated her mound. Her finger- and toenails were all
a deep ruby red.
"You have your room card?" she asked, white teeth flashing against her
black lips. The white globes of her eyes seemed to float in space. Hamee dug
it out on automatic, his brain still buzzing from the sight of her. She held a
tiny CredVendor unnoticed in her hand and passed his card through it quickly
with a small electronic chirp, then handed him back his card.
Hamee just couldn't stop staring. They way the light played off her
skin was magical. It almost seemed to absorb the light. Her nipples,
impossible as it seemed, were even darker than the rest of her skin.
"Can I t-t-touch it?" he stammered, raising a hand. His brain kept
telling him that he couldn't be looking at skin, that it had to feel different.
Monetta moved close and deftly undid his trousers and let them drop to
the ground. His large organ--naturally so, he'd never undergone any hormone
treatments, and got angry whenever a woman asked him--sprang up.
"Oh baby," she purred, "you're going to do a lot more than that, I hope.
Don't you know nothing escapes from a black hole?"
And with that she opened her mouth wide, revealing an impossibly long
tongue so black it looked purple, and sank to her knees before him.
"I think I'm going to like this planet," he managed to gasp.
"You are human, aren't you?" Berto asked Gilly as they broke from a
heavy kiss. They were in a lift, heading up to his room. The car seemed to be
moving impossibly slow.
Gilly laughed and continued grinding her crotch against his hip.
"You're silly! Of course I'm human. I've just been GELFed."
"GELFed," he repeated. "Oh!" he said suddenly in understanding. He
hadn't realized Monsipur was one of the few planets that still allowed permanent
genetic restructuring for non-life-threatening circumstances. GELF stood for
Genetically Engineered Life Form. A lot more common a hundred and fifty years
past than today, thanks in most part to the SuperMan Wars of the Earth Triad.
They'd let GELFing of their soldiers get out of hand and after 20 years with
virtually no restrictions a war of nightmarish proportions had resulted. Where
it wasn't banned outright, immediate restrictions on genetic engineering were
put into effect throughout known space, most of which were still in place.
Apparently Monsipur's Council of Twelve felt they could regulate and monitor
their GE industry -- which, Berto knew, thanks to man's proclivity toward
invention and improvement, had on other planets spun wildly out of control.
GEing of some sort was allowed on most worlds, but only under great
restriction, and usually only for the prevention of disease or the correction of
birth defects. A few planets, he'd heard, had started allowing GEing for
recreational purposes, but they were few and far between. The craziness he'd
read about that had preceded the SuperMan Wars was, thankfully, a thing of the
past.
The lift doors opened and they hurried down the corridor to his room.
She kept saying something about the hormone schedule, but all he knew was that
she wanted to be scooped something awful. He carded the door open and pulled
her into the room, kissing her passionately. Gilly wrapped her leg around his
and ground her pubic bone against his thigh, tongue worming its way into his
mouth. He sucked at it eagerly, nearly panting with desire. She tossed her
small bag into the room blindly and ran her hands over his back and shoulders.
She was shorter than he'd thought while sitting in the Port Authority's
booth. Barely one point six meters tall, she had a small frame that held more
muscle than he would've guessed. As she pressed against him he could feel her
loose breasts pushing against him, weighty flesh tipped with stiff knobs of
flesh. He reached a hand down and was about to explore a little of what she'd
given him a glance of when she broke their embrace.
"You sit down," she said, pushing him in the direction of the bed.
Berto bounced down and began pulling off his TracBoots. Gilly made sure the
door had shut all the way, then pulled off her tiny shoes as she walked back.
Berto knew Sweatrem was designed to wick perspiration and moisture away
from the skin, but still he was surprised to see the clear droplets hanging from
the crotch of her shorts. Her cleft was clearly defined by the thin fabric, two
fat ridges of soft flesh each the thickness of his forefinger, nestled together
between her thighs.
With a smirky grin Gilly reached under her baggy shirt and pulled the
shorts down her muscled legs. They dropped onto her feet and she stepped out of
them. Her shirt came down to just past her crotch, and she pulled the front of
it down to keep him from getting another peek.
Gilly swayed her hips back and forth, teasing him. Relenting, she
finally pulled her shirt up and over her head and let it drop. She put one hand
behind her head, modeling, the other on her cocked hips. She posed for him, a
lustful grin on her face. Somehow the pose made her look even younger.
Berto sat on the bed, not moving, maybe not even breathing. He
repeatedly thanked whatever Deity that was looking out for him for allowing him
this opportunity, and fervently hoped it wasn't some hallucinatory dream due to
space sickness.
"A lackey," Gilly said proudly.
Adorning her young, thin, taut, muscular body were six, SIX, luscious
breasts. Three pairs, each one topped with a big knobby nipple nearly the equal
to the end of his thumb, the flesh dusky pink.
Gilly's topmost pair was where Berto was accustomed to seeing breasts on
a woman. They sat high on her chest, rather wide but disappointingly flat. Her
big nipples, however, more than made up for the lack of breastmeat.
Her second pair of breasts, identical in size and shape to the first,
sat just below, nearly underneath the top two. They hung nearly to the bottom
of her ribcage, which was right where the bottommost pair began sloping outward.
Gilly's lowest set hung to just below her navel, nearly on line with her hip
bones. Berto could only stare, his cock throbbing like a seismic anomaly.
Each of her breasts was pale and round, with the blue tracings of veins
showing beneath the skin. All six of them appeared to be the same size, round
and wide but unusually flat. Berto was fascinated with her big wrinkled
nipples, each with a tiny indentation in its wide, flat tip. They pointed
straight out, aimed right at him. His mind barely registered the rest of her
body and its total lack of hair.
"Pull it out," she told him hungrily. Berto maniacally ripped his shirt
and pants off. Finally freed from its restraints his organ popped up to point
at the ceiling. Gilly eyed it like a starving cannibal, her hands sliding up
and down the sides of her body. One hand moved to roughly tug at a nipple, and
she shivered. A small white drop appeared at the tip of the nipple, hanging on
the dark pink flesh like a tear.
Gilly suddenly jumped at the bed, twisting in midair to land on her butt
beside Berto. She crabwalked backward up the bed to its center and laid back.
When she spread her legs Berto saw the dark glistening split. Her groin had the
disconcerting appearance of an child's -- hairless, and no real labia to speak
of, only two fat ridges of flesh with a split running down the center. Her
split showed a hint of pink, the juices actually running out of her and down the
crack of her ass as she propped herself up on her elbows.
Her breasts flattened even more as she lay on her back, but her nipples
were six short columns of rigid flesh standing proudly from her chest.
"I want it," she told him in a voice rough with lust.
Berto nearly dived across the bed and knelt between her thighs, the tip
of his cock glistening with fluid. It quivered just an inch from her
thicklipped, childlike slit.
Sucking in a quick breath, he slowly pushed forward into her soft folds.
Wet heat enveloped him instantly, and he fought the urge to shove his entire
length into her at once.
"You're so tight," Berto marvelled. Gilly groaned and spread her legs
wider.
She was tight, amazingly so -- a true one-finger glove. He wasn't the
biggest-equipped man in the universe, yet he practically had to fight his way
into her tight flesh. If it wasn't for the juices practically gushing out of
her, he might not've made it all the way in.
Berto worked his cock into the wet fist between her legs, her myriad
breasts swaying and jiggling with each thrust. Gilly groaned louder, her knees
reflexively jerking backward, and pulled him down on top of her. He felt her
rubbery nipples nudging his ribcage as she rained kisses upon his lips and face.
Berto finally felt himself reach bottom, her smooth mound pressed
against his. He stopped moving for a few seconds, to catch his breath. Gilly
moaned in protest and thrust her hips at him, urging him on. In the back of his
mind he hoped that with a little activity her insides would loosen up some;
otherwise, she might be in for a short ride. He reached up to play with her
flat breasts. They were soft and infinitely squeezable - in fact, there was
nothing to them. They were just flat, empty bags of flesh with no meat to fill
them. He'd never felt any quite like them. Her thick nipples were the only
things on her chest that had any firmness; they were like pink rubber toggle
switches.
"Pound me, pound me," she gasped, tearing her lips away from his to
catch her breath. She'd pulled her knees so far back and apart her feet were
flat against his ribs, toes in his armpits. He began to thrust into her in
earnest, supporting himself on knees and elbows.
Berto groaned, kissing Gilly and tonguing her neck. "Oh Lord," he
panted, pumping into her gluey sheath. He hadn't felt anything this good in a
loooooong time. Their sweaty mounds slapped as he took her deep, each impact
making her grunt.
They gradually found a common rhythm. Berto began thrusting in earnest
as he lost his fear of popping out. Gilly kept up the tiny, cute grunts as he
pumped into her, running her hands up and down his shoulders and back. Gilly's
hot hole did begin to loosen up, going from Oh-my-God-that's-tight to damn snug.
Suddenly she gave a high moaning whine, lips clamped together. Berto felt her
vagina fluttering against his organ as she orgasmed, and pumped her even harder.
The twitching between her legs slowly faded and Berto found she'd
loosened up considerably. His cock also now practically swam in her juice.
Each slide in or out was accompanied by a squelch or a sucking sound, loud
enough to be embarrassing, but Gilly didn't seem to notice and Berto found it
was instead turning him on even more. It was as if her furt was talking to him,
telling him how much it liked what he was doing.
Berto propped himself up on his hands so he could look at her breasts.
With each vigorous thrust they bounced back and forth, six glorious mounds of
flesh moving only partially in rhythm. It was a sight he could never have
imagined.
After her first climax Gilly seemed to relax. She spread her legs wide
and let him thrust wildly, groaning luxuriously. She moved her hands up and
began squeezing her knobby nipples at random. Top left, middle right, bottom
left, she would roll them between her fingertips, pinch them, pull them up away
from her chest. After a minute of this ivory drops stood at the end of every
nipple. As Berto pounded her, and her breasts swayed and jiggled, the drops
rolled off her nipples and down the sides of her breasts.
"Arrggghh!" Berto grunted and jerked against her, his cock spewing seed
throughout her clenching innards. Gilly felt it pulsing in her and held tight
to him as he sweated and shook through his orgasm. He'd meant to hold off, but
when he'd seen her six, white-tipped nipples waving in the air like pricked
thumbs he slid over the edge.
With a smile and a happy groan Berto kissed Gilly and sucked at her
darting tongue. Her hot flesh pressed unrelentingly on his cock, and after a
brief fade it surged back to full strength.
"Hello," Berto said, laughing. He slowly pulled out of her and sat back
on the bed. A gurgle came from between her legs and a huge gush of fluid ran
out of her.
"We're making a mess," Gilly said with a giggle. Her ribcage was
criscrossed with wet trails where drops of milk had leaked from her nipples and
run across her breasts.
"That's all right." The slimy head of his cock rested on the bed's
topcover, but he didn't care.
"I need a drink," Gilly told him. She sat up and looked around the
room.
"I've got a detailed server," he told her. "What do you want?"
"Water, or fresh fruit juice if they've got it. At least a liter,
preferably two. I'm way behind, I'm practically dehydrated."
"No problem." Berto slid off the bed and strode to the server console
on the wall and ran through the options.
Gilly rolled over onto her hands and knees and presented her behind to
him. Her breasts swung loosely beneath her, nipples pointing straight down at
the bed. He looked away, then back. It seemed strange, but her breasts didn't
seem quite as loose-skinned as they'd appeared when she'd first shown them to
him in the Port Authority.
"Want to cork me again?" she asked as he punched in an order. She
waggled her rear at him. "I like it this way, it feels good when my bumpers
swing back and forth."
"Hoof," he exclaimed, and leapt back to the bed. He grabbed her hips
and buried his cock to the hilt in her with one solid thrust. Gilly sucked in a
breath, then hummed as he began thrusting madly. Her rows of breasts swung back
and forth, nipples skipping across the coverlet.
Furiously slamming into her, Berto brutally fucked her as hard and as
fast as he could. Gilly cried out, loving it, lowering her shoulders and
pressing her top four breasts into the bed. She moaned with pleasure, and
Berto'd barely found his groove when he felt her coming. Gilly twitched and
bucked on the bed, thrusting her ass back onto his rod as her hole clenched
spasmodically around him. Clear fluid ran out of her and dripped onto the bed.
"Abalab, gurt, fffft!" With her face buried in the mattress Gilly's
cries were indecipherable.
Berto increased his already frantic pace, feeling the pressure building
in his loins. He hunched over, letting go of her hips to grab her nearest set
of breasts hanging from her muscled belly. He squeezed her flesh roughly and
her hard nipples dug into his palms.
"Oh God. Oh God!" His balls slapped against her moist mound. Gilly's
smooth ass pressed against his stomach as Berto hunched ever faster into her.
The muscles in her back stood out on either side of her spine. Berto reared
back, hips pumping wildly, sweat beaded on his forehead.
Gilly grunted and moaned continuously, pushing her hips back at Berto.
Her tiny pink anus kept clenching over and over, as if she was winking it at
him, all the while her wet tunnel squirmed around his shaft.
With a gasping bark Berto pulled her close and came, cock throbbing and
pulsing. He jerked and jerked, shooting load after load into her body. Gilly
gave a giggling moan, stretching her hands out to grab fistfulls of bedcovers.
Berto bent over her, sweat dripping from his nose into the furrow along her
spine.
"Unbelievable," he panted. He released her breasts, finally realizing
just how hard he'd been squeezing them. Milk was smeared across his palms, but
Gilly never complained.
"Mmmmm," Gilly said into the bed.
Berto gently disengaged himself and fell backward. Gilly reached a hand
back over her ass and idly dipped two fingers inside her soupy cavity.
"I liked that," she said with a smile. She climbed off the bed and
moved to the server. A wide, clear snake of their commingled secretions began
sliding down the inside of her thigh.
Berto kept his eyes on her small, taut buttocks as she opened the server
port and removed the two one-liter containers of fruit juice. She set them on
the small table.
"Your breasts are amazing," he said. She posed cartoonishly with a
giggle, then popped the seal of one of the carafes.
"I am sooo thirsty," she said, and quickly downed half the container.
"I don't doubt it," Berto said. "You got so wet you were practically
squirting."
"I do that sometimes," she said. The sight of her six breasts swaying
not quite in unison as she took another gulp left him speechless. When she set
down the liter jug he was surprised to see it already empty.
"Yeow, I guess you really were thirsty."
"You have no idea how much I have to drink," she told him. "Never mind
the vitamins and diet supplements. I should've drunk this hours ago."
"So what exactly do you do? You wetnurse infants in collective
childcare or something like that, right?"
"Oh, no," she laughed. He watched in delight as the laugh spread in a
wave of jiggles through her breasts. He still couldn't get used to the sight of
breasts where only a flat stomach should be. The middle pair, nestled just
under the first, still rode mostly on her ribcage and didn't appear as unusual
as he would've thought. But the third pair, hanging unequivocally from her
belly, that looked strange.
"I don't want any little babies hanging on my nipples," she said.
"Yecch. G-Milk -- human milk," she explained to Berto, " is very popular on
Monsipur. It's a delicacy, very much in demand. Always has been as far as I
know, although I hear that's not the case on most worlds." Depending on who you
asked, the G in G-Milk either stood for Genetic or Girl.
"You mean people drink it like cow's milk?"
"Of course. Milk has always been a high demand foodstuff here because
it's high in calcium, something Monsipur is always in short supply of for some
reason. Someone began marketing human milk, and it became wildly popular. It's
a lot cheaper than cow's milk, almost all of which has to be imported, because
it's too hot here for cows, I guess they dry right up. About, oh, a hundred
years or so ago the Council, in response to the growing demand for G-Milk,
decided the best solution was to GE a certain number of girl babies to become
volume milk producers." Berto could hardly believe his ears. As she talked on
his eyebrows rose in disbelief even as his jaw dropped. "The Council hired
medicos," she went on, "who talked to qualified couples and asked to GE their
daughters, in utero, in return for a small compensation. They only chose those
people who passed exhaustive genetic and psychological screening exams. It's a
great honor to be chosen," she said proudly.
"I'm sure," he said, not sure of anything at all.
"They altered my DNA when I was just a little bug the size of your
finger inside my mommy," she told him.
Berto's jaw moved up and down several times before he was able to get
any words out. "So, when you were a little girl, you looked normal except for
too many nipples?" He was trying to get his mind around this bizarre tale she'd
just told him. It was almost too outrageous to be believed, yet he was staring
at the reality of her six breasts. Gilly didn't seem to think there was
anything unusual about her situation.
"Yep. Until I hit puberty and started lactating."
"How old were you then?"
"Fourteen. Just a tweaker, not even full grown. I hardly had any
bumpers at all. The only problem is that I had to take hormone supplements
every day to keep up my production, and the hormones messed up my
whatchmacallits, my secondary sex characteristics. Same thing with most of the
other lackeys. The medicos say they're not sure why it happens, and keep trying
to fix it with the new babies, but it's still happening. The hormones also keep
me from ovulating, which reportedly has something to do with lackeys altered
development during late puberty."
"Well, you definitely didn't skip puberty," Berto told her.
"Not this part," she said with a smile, motioning to her chest. She sat
down in a chair. "I never got any hair on my furt, or anywhere else," she
explained. "And my furt," she spread her legs to show him. "It looks just like
a baby's, you can't even see my knuckle."
"You're damn near as tight as one, too," he marvelled, staring at her
moist center. He felt himself rising to the occasion.
"All the lackeys are this way."
"How many of you are there?"
"I don't know," she said, cocking her head. "Fourteen thousand?"
"Fourteen thousand? Krikes." He sat on the bed and thought. He just
couldn't stop asking questions. He was fascinated and more than slightly
aroused by the thought of thousands of Monsipurian natives drinking human milk,
milk that came out of women like Gilly, yet the whole idea of genetically
engineering female babies in the womb to be -- for all intents and purposes --
dairy cows, was somehow creepy and not a little bit frightening. What the hell
kind of society did they have here anyway? He just couldn't accept it as a part
of a normal life, as Gilly obviously had.
"How often do you, uh, give milk?"
"Four times a day. Some girls bump up their dose and go in for the
extra one in the middle of the night but I live too far away from the Main, and
they're the only one open overnight."
"Four times a day."
"I'd just left there when we met. I was really feeling the hormone pop
today. Normally I'd just head home and take a ride in my pod or maybe just go
natural, but I saw an advert for the Port Authority and just couldn't get it out
of my head. I haven't taken in an actual man since last year," she said with a
little blush.
"I'm glad you picked me," Berto said. "So, the hormones get you all
bubbly?"
"You have no idea," she said, rolling her eyes. "Although it's not as
bad as when I first started milking and they were trying to set my dose. They
had my levels so torqued up my parents had to lease a synthetic for a month just
so I could get some sleep. That whole first year was a nightmare. My bumpers
started growing like crazy, none of my clothes fit, and my middle left nipple
used to leak all the time."
"You parents? Uh, um, krikes. This was when you were fourteen?"
"Yep. Mom was best friends with a lackey when she was my age so she
knew just what I was going through."
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-three," she told him. "Because the government paid for my
GEing, I'm contracted and bound by law. Barring complications, I have to
continue producing until I'm fifty, at which point I can withdraw from the
program if I want. Some women remain productive late into their sixties, but I
don't know if I want to go that long. We get paid by the liter, you know, of
milk. The government fixes the price."
Berto, watching her young, guileless face, had a sudden thought.
Between her adolescent speech patterns and mannerisms, and her giggling . . . .
"Is that twenty-three years Standard or Monny?"
"I told you I'm bad at math," she giggled. She uncapped the second
juice container and took several large gulps.
He assumed that meant Monny. No wonder she was so tight.
"So what kind of a spacer are you?" she asked.
With a smile, Berto eagerly began to describe his work. The vagaries of
interplanetary trade, the troubles he and his partners had had in starting their
own business--with their lender, unions, local governments. The different kinds
of transport ships, and how a ship's design and capabilities limited the kinds
of cargo it could carry. How they specialized in fragile cargo the huge
Mega-stars would never take on. How spaceflight was both boring and
exhilarating at the same time. The hazards and quirks of working in zero
gravity.
Gilly nodded eagerly and occasionally asked questions, but he wasn't
sure how much of what he was telling her she understood. She finished the
second jug of juice and plopped it down on the table. Berto was almost positive
that her breasts were fuller than just half an hour before. She sure didn't
seem in any hurry to urinate after drinking two entire liters of juice in a few
short minutes, and the liquid had to be going somewhere.
Gilly noticed where he was looking and arched her back a little. "My
whole metabolism is geared to produce milk," she explained. "If I'm not
drinking enough fluids it can be trouble, because it'll go toward milk instead
of my other organs, and that can sometimes cause toxins to build up."
"Sounds rough."
"Oh, I don't know," she replied. "I've been like this my whole life, so
I'm used to it. I like it, actually. I'm special, and I get treated that way.
I get paid a lot for my milk, and I've got a whole bunch of really nice friends
that are lackeys like me that I probably wouldn't know otherwise. They know
just what it's like, so if I'm having a bad day I can call them up and they know
exactly what I'm going through. Going to the collection center, it's almost
like one big party, everybody's happy and joking and talking. The only
difference is we're hooked up to a draw tank and getting pumped out."
"Now there's something I'd like to see," he said. He tried to imagine
what it might be like, but his imagination wasn't up to the task. Any mental
image he might dream up surely couldn't compare to the real thing.
"I think you'd like it a lot," Gilly said. "All the men that ever come
into the collection area always stand there with stupid looks on their faces and
their mouths hanging wide open. I've been going for eight years now, four times
a day, so it doesn't seem like anything special to me. Maybe you could come
with me . . . uh . . . ." She looked uncertain.
"What?"
"Well, I was going to say that you could come with me when I go in for
my morning draw," she said rather nervously. "But maybe you don't want me
staying here overnight."
Berto looked at her young, pretty face, her six no-longer-flat breasts,
the hairless slit between her muscled thighs still leaking fluid onto the seat
cushion.
"You've got to be flopping," he said. "Have you looked in a mirror
lately? I can't imagine anyone I'd rather spend the night with. Come over
here, and bring those nipples with you."
She giggled and stood up. A clear string connected her labia to the
seat. "You're going to have to bite," she told him. "After eight years on the
hoses they're not very sensitive."
What surprised Berto the most was just how sweet her milk was.
