Atlantea Ch. 12

"It was great," I said, attempting to muster enthusiasm that I did not feel. "I'm just not that hungry right now, is all." Just then, my tummy betrayed me by growling audibly. Chris could hear it across the aisle.

"Oh really?" Khrystyna said, as she raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't sound like your stomach agrees with you! I promise we won't be offended, we have a full kitchen and lots of time, so we would be happy to prepare something more to your liking." She squatted down next to my armrest and put her hand on my left arm reassuringly. Once again I had a great view of her cleavage, noting an unusually wide, flat space between her heavy boobs.

I felt my face flush. "The food was good, and I'm not just saying that to spare your feelings. It's just..." I trailed off, then continued, unsure of how to proceed. "I've been kind of on a liquid diet for a while now."

Her face brightened. "We have a blender! A good one, too. Want us to make you a smoothie or something?"

Now I felt my blush extended to my ears and neck. The persistent stewardess was clearly going to wring the truth out of me.

"Um, not that kind of liquid. It's kind of embarrassing to talk about, actually."

"You can tell me anything," she said, conveying her sincerity with a toothy smile.

I took a deep breath, composing my thoughts, so as to sound as casual as possible. "I've been living with five women for a while now, and four of them are breastfeeding. And, well, one way or another they just ended up breastfeeding me too. Which has been great. But the one downside is that regular food has been tasting gross to me."

"Wow!" Khrystyna said, "That's amazing!" My flush faded as I realized she wasn't messing with me. "So you're able to live on breast milk? You certainly look healthy enough! I don't think I've ever heard of that, even back home. How much do you drink every day?"

Encouraged by her genuine interest, I felt comfortable sharing more details. "Well, I'm not sure. Phoebe produced the most milk, but we never measured how much. Maybe I'd get several liters from her every day? Then a bit less from Natasha, then maybe half as much from Ruby and Alicia, each?"

"Hmm," Khrystyna said, "if you're used to drinking that much, you're going to have a rough time." She thought for a moment, then clarified. "I mean, until we land, of course. But this is a long flight! Let me see what I can do. None of the other girls in my crew are nursing right now, but the Captain might be. Hang tight!" She patted my arm, rose up, then disappeared down the corridor. I stared at her rounded ass, barely contained by her skimpy skirt. A few minutes later she returned from the front of the plane. "Sorry," she said, "no luck. Captain Metaxas stopped nursing last month." She was squatting next to me again, and once again had her hand on my arm. Her concern for my well-being was palpable.

"It's okay," I said, "I can just tough it out. Maybe a bit of fasting wouldn't be so bad for me."

Khrystyna did not look like she was buying my argument. "There is one more idea, but, it's a long shot, and, it could be kind of... intense."

"What do you mean?"

"I think one of the Mermaids -- or wait, I guess the Valkyrie -- might be nursing. I think it's related to why she's on this flight, at all. Normally it's just Mermaids."

"What the heck is this 'Mermaid' business, exactly?" I asked, recalling that Officer Leonidas had mentioned something about them.

"And Valkyrie. They're like Atlantean equivalent of lurps."

"You know you're just making me more confused, right?" I admitted.

"L-R-R-P?"

"Still nothing."

"Long-range Reconnaissance Patrol?"

"Nope."

"Okay, you have heard of the US Marines Force Recon units?"

"Um, maybe I read about them somewhere? Is that like the Green Berets?"

"They're from your Army, silly! Don't you Americans take Military Studies in high school? Even back home we spent six months on the US armed forces alone. Of course, they are the second strongest in the world, so they did merit the most attention."

"You mean the first, right? Or is China stronger now?" I asked.

"Oh no, I meant second; we're the strongest by far." My jaw must have dropped in response, so she continued. "You'll learn all about it during your induction. Anyway, Mermaids are closest to Force Recon, and Valkyries are like US Navy SEALS, if you want a comparison. I wanted to be a Valkyrie when I was a little girl, actually. I know, it's totally cliché, right? Just like every other kid."

"Really? It's not like that in the states."

"No kidding? Well, I changed my mind when I found out what the qualification test was like! Again, just like most other kids."

"So," I asked, "pretend I don't know anything about my own country's military; explain the difference between them, like I'm five?"

Khrystyna smiled. "You know James Bond, right?" I nodded. "It's like that. The Valkyrie's are licensed to kill, so to speak, and the Mermaids aren't. Otherwise, they have almost identical training. And while they're both intimidating, the Valkyries are on another level of scary."

"Um, you know, you don't have to bother her," I said nervously. Just then, however, my stomach growled again, even louder than before.

"I really think I do," Khrystyna said, the smile leaving her face. She stood up and walked to the back of the plane. When she returned, her toothy grin had returned. "Mr. Walker, you are in luck today!"

"I'm not sure that means she can do it, or that she can't, based on your warnings."

"You'll be fine!" she said, casually, patting my shoulder. "She is still breastfeeding, and hasn't pumped lately, so that'll tide you over for a while."

Before I could even think about refusing, there was another rumbling noise from my midsection. I decided to be optimistic about the opportunity. "That's great, thanks for your help, Khrystyna. So, what's this Merm--, er, Valkyrie's name?"

"Her name is Xyra," Khrystyna said, pronouncing the first syllable with a combination of a 'k', an 's', and an expectorating sound that is difficult to describe in English. She continued, "But you can just call her Kira. Mainlanders can never get the 'xy' sound right, even after years, so--"

"Xyra," I said.

Now it was Khrystyna's turn to go slack jawed. "Wait, say that again."

"Xyra?"

"I can't fucking believe it! Did someone teach you our language?" She paused, holding her chin thoughtfully. "But you'd never have passed the test."

"Nope, not a word!"

"So you have a magic tongue?" she said, thoughtfully. Immediately after uttering this, she blushed, paused for a beat, then added, more softly, "You'll be a hit back home."

* * *

Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Startled, as I hadn't heard any footsteps, I looked up to see the tall figure of the Japanese-looking Valkyrie standing over me.

"Xyra doesn't speak English," Khrystyna explained, "so I'm afraid you two will have to use hand gestures. But I did explain your, ah, needs, to her."

The Valkyrie inclined her head towards the front of the plane, then began padding silently in that direction. As I got up from my seat, I realized I had not been wearing my seat belt. It struck me as odd. On every other flight I'd been on, there were periodic warnings to keep it buckled. Then I realized that the flight, thus far at least, had been completely smooth, with not even the faintest hint of turbulence. Filing this information away, I followed Xyra down the corridor on the left-hand side of the cabin. A few steps further, and we reached the stateroom, which, it turned out, had been in front of my seat the whole time. I had not realized this, as Khrystyna had not seen fit to give me a tour.

We stepped into the room, and Xyra closed, and locked, the door behind me. The stateroom, as it turned out, was really just a bedroom. There was an easy chair in one corner, and a queen-sized bed in another, its light pink sheets already rumpled. A bin full of large, clean towels was bolted to the floor near the bed, and next to that was an equally-secured hamper for the used ones. Above the hamper, I noted a big blue machine strapped to a shelf; most likely a breast pump, if the tubes attached to it were anything to go by. Xyra motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bed.

She was one of the most unusual women I had ever been in the presence of. For one thing, her body was covered in patches of dirt, and there was grease on her forearms, and on her tactical vest as well. She also had the most pungent body odor I had ever smelled in my life; although I did not find it unpleasant, myself, I could imagine many people would. I suspected that, before getting on the flight, her company had been doing some kind of intense military exercise, and she had not had time to shower.

Xyra was tall, about the same height as Calista, and her toned arms were covered in lean muscle, knife scars, and faint, downy black hair. As she was wearing a tank top under her vest, and I could see that her armpits were unshaven as well. Overall, she looked Japanese, except that her thin nose had an incongruous aquiline look, and she had the unusual green eyes that I had seen on other Atlanteans.

'Cleaned up, she'd be up there with Rosie in the looks department,' I thought to myself. Her beauty, however, contrasted sharply with her flat, emotionless expression. Khrystyna's explanation that this woman was a stone-cold killer flashed across my mind, subduing any feelings of attraction I might have built up at the sight of her.

Without hesitation, or indeed any sign of self-consciousness, Xyra began to strip from the waist up. First she removed her sidearm, and set it on the nightstand, out of my reach. Then she removed her tactical vest and set it carefully on the ground. As she hoisted her tank top over her head, she first revealed a set of six-pack abs even more defined than my own. Based on what I had seen so far, I was expecting her breasts to be hard and flat against her rib cage, and I began to wonder how on earth I would be able to latch on with my mouth.

My fears were baseless, as it turned out. Under her vest and tank top she had been wearing a functional, unrevealing nursing bra, made of a tough-looking fabric which I could not immediately identify. Although industrial grade, it was also enormous in size, giving me hope that she would have a lot of milk stored in her bosoms. My heart soared as she removed the bra, letting loose her side set boobs, which were somewhere between Natasha's and Phoebe's in size. In contrast with the rest of her body, her breasts looked soft and smooth, albeit taut with milk, with dark, forward-facing areolae about the size of half-dollars, and small, slightly protuberant nipples.

'It's like she works out everything but her chest!' I marveled, as I stared at her like I had never seen a topless woman before.

If my gawking had made any impression on her, there was no way to tell from her impassive face. She hopped onto the bed, scooted so that her back was against the headboard, put a pillow on her left thigh, and motioned me over. With practiced familiarity I lay down with my head on the pillow. At this, however, I froze up. I had not actually said a word to her, and it seemed awkward to just start sucking on a woman's nipple without having any kind of conversation first.

"Should I just... start?" I asked, idiotically, as Khrystyna had so recently explained that Xyra did not know any English. Xyra, face still perfectly blank, made an impatient gesture with her right hand.

'Okay then,' I thought, 'I guess I'll just start sucking on Miss Double-Oh's Double D's' I couldn't help but grin at my own witticism, and Xyra made the same impatient gesture, except this time with more vigor. As I latched on to her nipple, it occurred to me that my joke was not as clever as I had thought at first. There was no way the breast I now had latched on to could squeeze into a DD cup.

I was, despite my earlier protests to the contrary, starving, by this point, having not had anything substantial to eat since I had left home that morning. It took all my willpower to limit the suction of my pulls to a reasonable level, as Natasha had taught me. Xyra's breast milk was watery, and more sour than any I had tasted before. I wondered what she had been eating. Yet it made little difference. As I greedily drank the liquid down, I felt a warmth spread from my stomach, eventually suffusing my fingers and toes.

Xyra, face still an unreadable mask, looked over towards the breast pump and said, "--- - ---- -- throw ---- ------- ----- --- --- ------- plane."

'It's weird how they use English words sometimes,' I thought, not for the first time.

I nursed steadily at Xyra's left breast, which remained tightly stretched even after five minutes. Milk sprayed forcefully from the pores of her nipple, with no signs of abating, and I realized she must have been putting off pumping as long as possible, even before Khrystyna approached her with my quandary. It was a full half hour before we finished on the left side, and I suspected I had drunk at least a half-liter of Xyra's milk. She slid the pillow onto her right thigh, and I moved down so that my mouth was right below her nipple. It was already dripping, and likely had been for some time. I felt irrationally annoyed that I had missed out on even this small amount of fluid. Once her other boob ran dry, we both got up and she got dressed. Her nursing bra fit more loosely now. Still without expression, she led the way out of the bedroom and over to my chair.

"You seem popular with the military chicks!" Chris ribbed me. He must have assumed that we had had sex, given that we had been in the room for a whole hour.

"There are worse things," I replied.

* * *

Our plane landed around an hour later. It was impossible to tell where we were in the world, as the fake windows presently showed a view of Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa, which was obviously not our true location after only around four or five hours of flying out of Minneapolis. After taking off, another hour rolled by, and then Khrystyna swung by with a snack service consisting of cheese, fruit, and white wine. She got to me last, saying, "Should I even bother asking if you're going to want this?"

"I'll take the wine," I said, "but I'll pass on the rest, thanks."

"You got it; want me to ask Xyra if she's up for another round?" Khrystyna asked, lowering her voice.

"I think it's only been a couple of hours, seems too soon to bother her," I dissembled. In truth, I was still intimidated by the woman, and was nervous to interact with her again, even though logic dictated that I'd need to, over the final twenty plus hours of the flight.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Khrystyna replied, "She been asking us girls for refills on water, like, every five minutes, so I think she's planning on helping you out again. I'd be happy to go ask her!" Before I could reply, I saw a tall, green-eyed figure behind the shorter flight attendant. "Or," Khrystyna said, without missing a beat, "she could just show up behind me like a ninja with her ears burning."

Xyra nodded her head toward bedroom, and, without waiting for me, headed in that direction. As I got up to follow her, Chris whistled loudly. When I entered the room and closed the door behind me, Xyra had already stripped down to the waist. The room was filled with her body odor, and, having more time to pay attention, I picked up on how exceptionally bushy her armpits were.

'I bet she's never shaved in her life!' I thought.

It took only thirty-five minutes to finish nursing this time. I still felt hunger pangs, but the milk helped take the edge off, and I was grateful to the imposing woman. I needed to repay her somehow, so I suggested the only thing I could think of to do for her: give her a massage. I could see just from looking at her that her muscles were knotted, all over her body, like the MMA fighters I used to work with. Communicating my offer to her was another matter, however. At first, without thinking, I just asked her in English, "Thank you so much! Would you like a massage? I know it might sound weird but I'm actually a professional."

Xyra looked at me neutrally, and I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. Trying again, I first pointed to myself, then her, then made a rolling motion with my hands, indicating how I'd massage her shoulders. Her eyes widened marginally, instantly filling me with dread.

'Does she think I'm trying to hit on her? Please don't kill me!' I thought to myself, only half-joking.

After a nerve-wracking ten seconds, Xyra, still topless, wordlessly unbuckled and dropped her cargo pants and panties onto the floor, revealing scarred, well-toned legs, and a thick, wiry bush of pubic hair. Her face betrayed no emotion as she climbed onto the bed, face down. She did not bother with a towel. I began my massage with her feet, which were, like much of the rest of her, covered in a layer of caked-on dust. Unexpectedly, as I worked my thumbs across the arches of her feet, she made an unmistakable grunt of relief.

'Atlantean commandos must not get a lot of massages,' I thought.

I worked my way up her body over the next fifteen minutes, finding a number of sore, knotted muscles along the way. Then I started over, back at her feet, and spent forty-five minutes on her legs and back. When I got to her buttocks, which I had skipped the first time around, I felt like I might be taking my life into my own hands in touching them. But equally, the beautiful, rounded curves of her rock-hard ass were too alluring to neglect, and I felt like it was my professional duty to be thorough. As I began to work the knotted, impossibly well-developed muscles there, she let more groans of relief as I worked that area with all my strength. Next, feeling bolder now, I spread her legs slightly. Xyra had no reaction. The thick lips of her vagina were visible even through her dense black public hair, and I felt my cock grow harder at the sight. I massaged her inner thighs, and when she grunted in pleasure, I made my boldest move yet, pushing in, with my thumbs, on the areas to either side of her vagina.

"Mother -------!", she exclaimed, in a tone I'd come to recognize as satisfied rather than dangerous.

Soon I had her flip onto her back, so that I could massage her from the other side. I spent most of my time on her especially tight quadriceps muscles, but also included her inner thighs and breasts as well. When, at last, after almost two hours, I had finished, she sat up and started expressionlessly into my face with her emerald eyes. The green orbs drifted down, to the unmistakable bulk of my firm cock. She made a firm, pulling motion with her hands, clearly intending for me to strip.

'She might kill me if I don't go full monty, so I'd better do what the lady wants,' I joked to myself.

Her eyes went wide, registering surprise for the first time since I had met her, when my long, wide cock sprang erect as I squeezed out of my tight leather pants and scanty g-string. In an instant, I found myself on my back, on the bed, Xyra pushing my feet up towards my head while simultaneously sliding my underpants the rest of the way off. She had moved so fast that I had no idea how she had gotten me into that position. She took each of my wrists in turn, and had me grab my legs, behind my knees, completely exposing my cock, balls and anus to her. She then grabbed my penis with her callused hands, pulling it towards herself.

With one hand on my cock, keeping it in a convenient position, she climbed above me, lowering her pussy downwards. Either the massage, the sight of my cock, or some combination of the two, had gotten her wet, and her vagina slid over the wide head of my cock in a single motion. She began to pump her hips, groaning in pleasure as her opening gradually made it further and further down my shaft. Xyra was the most athletic woman I'd ever had sex with, eclipsing even Calista. Her core and leg muscles were exceptionally well-developed, allowing her to move just her hips, keeping the rest of her body nearly still. She pounded away at me relentlessly, and for first time in my life I felt like I was being fucked by a woman.