Atlantea Ch. 13

"On the other hand, if you want to say yes, you say, 'I am quite parched', again, in Atlantean, and then you'll start to nurse. I have to warn you though, women can be sensitive about this."

"Sensitive like how?"

"If you say 'My cup runneth over' every now and then, that's okay. But if you refuse often, even politely, especially to the same woman, she will take it to mean you don't like her milk. And trust me, word gets around fast." She paused to look at me, to make sure I understood. But I had already forgotten the phrase for refusing, instead repeating the one for acceptance over and over, in my head, even knowing that the English wording wasn't useful. "Jason, are you paying attention? This is important!"

"Oh yes, um," I said, "I meant to ask, how long can I nurse after someone offers?"

"Normally, it's rude to nurse more than a minute or two without stopping. If you drink less than thirty seconds, it's quite a big deal. It will be taken to mean you think her milk tastes bad, and she'll feel terrible."

"What if I want to go longer?"

Jacintha paused for a few extra beast. "Sorry, haven't gotten that question before. It's not used often, but there's a phrase for it. It translates to," she looked up for a second, lost in thought, "oh yes, it means, 'My river's yet dry, yet I wish to respect your time' in English, and then she will either agree or not. It happens rarely enough, there isn't a stock phrase for her to agree with."

"How long could I nurse if she says 'yes'?"

"If nothing else comes up, as long as you wish. It is flattering. Most women would take it to mean you especially like how their milk tastes, and it's hard to think of a higher compliment." I stood there, in a daze. My cock was hard as a rock, straining at my tight pants. "Jason?" Jacintha said, then repeated herself when I did not respond. "Are you okay?"

Snapping out of my latest fugue state, I said hastily, "Definitely! It's a lot to take in."

Jacintha smiled at me. "Why don't we get started?" I nodded. "Let's practice the formality; might as well start in on that! Would you like to try it in Atlantean?"

"Sure!"

"Okay, so if a woman is offering you milk, she will say, 'Zaer kar uddu?' And then to accept, you would say, 'Mayo uddu dunamo', okay?"

What I heard was something like "mayo under dynamo."

I was certain I was going to flub the line, but, to the surprise of both of us, what came out of my mouth was, «I am quite parched.»

Jacintha's eyes went wide. "How..." she started to say, then stopped. "Say that again?"

«I am quite parched,» I repeated, in Atlantean.

The liaison grabbed her stomach and doubled over, her heavy, round breasts bouncing alluringly as she did so. At first I thought she had suddenly come down with stomach flu, but then I realized she was trying to stop herself from laughing at me. Jacintha lost this battle, and let out a few hearty chuckles before regaining her self control. She stood up straight, again. "I'm sorry," she said, reaching down to the desk for support with one hand, and flapping the other in front of her face, "your pronunciation is weirdly good. But also funny. You sound like a..." she trailed off. "What's your slang word for someone from a... rural farming community?"

"A hick?" I ventured.

"Yes!" she said, pointing at me. "You sound like a 'hick'! It's impressive, you have a natural talent for the accent, but it's so hilarious too!" She took a deep breath. "Anyway, sorry. Let's get started, why don't you take off your shirt? I'd hate for it to get messy."

I stripped off the ridiculous, frilly white shirt I had been wearing, relieved to take off the now clammy garment. I had not had time to explore my duffel bag, to look for a spare, so had been wearing the same shirt for over twenty-four hours.

"You have a beautiful torso, Jason," Jacintha said casually. "Why don't you lie down over there?" She motioned toward the chaise lounge. A rumbling came from my midsection as I lowered myself onto the velvet surface, making me blush. Jacintha did not seem to notice the sound. Instead, she walked over, breasts jiggling slightly as she did so, climbed onto the chaise lounge with me, and straddled my stomach. She was wearing purple slacks, rather than a skirt, so did not need to hike them up in order to maneuver her legs to either side of me. I noted, with some jealously, that her pants, unlike mine, featured pockets. Bending forward, she brought her beautiful, dark areola to my lips. "I take it you know what to do here?"

"I've got a lot of practice," I replied.

Up close, it was clear that she had exceptionally large areolae, and like Phoebe, inverted nipples. I coaxed her left nipple out by sucking and licking on the bumpy indentation under which it was hidden. It popped out easily, unlike my best friend's, whose nipples needed more stimulation before showing themselves. Making a large circular shape with my lips, I sucked in as much of her breast as I could. Despite the tautness of her skin, I was able to bring in a healthy amount of tit, mostly covered by her atypically large areolae. Pushing her erect nipple to the roof of my mouth, I began to suck. As with Xyra, I was so hungry that I used as much suction as I dared. I looked up into Jacintha's face, and was pleased to see a hazy, relaxed look wash over her blue eyes. Just as this happened, she pulled back. My eyes drooped with disappointment.

"Don't worry," she said, "I wanted you to practice saying the phrase you'll need to use to continue. It would be rude to go any further without asking permission." She said something in Atlantean and asked me to recite the phrase.

«My river's yet dry, yet I wish to respect your time,» I said, feeling mystified as my mouth somehow formed the words.

Jacintha's boobs bounced as she tried, without success, to stifle a laugh. "Your accent is just too much!" she exclaimed. A drop of milk flew off of her left nipple and hit me on the nose, which only caused her mirth to overflow. It took another minute for her to regain composure and bring her teat back to my lips. I nursed steadily for five minutes, then broke off to ask her a question.

"Does it taste okay?" Jacintha asked, before I could get a word out. Milk was spraying onto my face. Her formerly confident tone was absent.

"Your milk is divine," I said, sincerely. "I was just worried I was using too much suction and hurting you?"

"Do you really like it?" she asked, "My sisters give me a hard time."

"Well, I think you taste fantastic," I said.

"Thanks," she said, quietly, "I appreciate that. What were you going to ask?" Somehow she had not registered that I had already asked my question.

"Was I sucking too hard? I was worried it might be hurting."

"Oh!" she said, her voice smoother once more. "Not at all, it's strong for sure, I can really feel the flow. But not unpleasant. Relaxing, to be honest. I hope you won't be offended if I happen to nod off?"

Instead of answering, I latched back on and began to suck again. My penis was rock hard, and I hoped she was positioned high up enough on my body not to feel it poking her. Jacintha said, "You are sweet," and interlaced her fingers behind my head, pulling me slightly towards herself. We nursed in this manner for another twenty-five minutes. Her right nipple began to leak milk, and she reached over to coax it out into the open. Eventually, a steady spray was established, soaking the upholstery to the side of my ear.

"Do you need a break?" Jacintha asked, nervous again, as her left breast ran dry. "I've never fed anyone that much milk at one time!"

I was still famished, and did not want to leave her in an unbalanced state. "I'd rather keep going, if it's alright with you?" She nodded, and I latched on eagerly to her still-leaking left nipple.

"Ooh," she said, as the flow of milk increased. Her hands returned to the back of my head, and I felt her smooth stomach area relax into my chest. She must have been keeping her abs tight, before, to keep skin-to-skin contact to a minimum. I sucked steadily for almost thirty-five minutes. Her breasts were asymmetric in size, and this one was the more productive of the two. True to her words, after some minutes had gone by, I felt even more weight on my chest. I looked into her face. Her large blue irises were barely visible now, as her lids drooped over them. Every so often, she would catch herself, open her eyes wider again, then allow them to close again. Then they closed completely, and stayed that way. Her hands fell away from the back of my head, and her forehead came to rest on the top of my head.

I had to put my hands on the impossibly smooth skin of her upper back to keep her from rolling off of me, as I continued to drain her milk, but it soon became clear that our positions were too precarious to maintain. Instead, I gradually let her roll onto her right side, following the path of her body with mine, to maintain the contact between my mouth and her breast. She let out a satisfied "Ooh" as her head came to rest on the sloping end of the chaise, and, without waking up, her hands snaked behind my head again, pulling me tightly to her bosom. She began to snore lightly as I happily sucked away for the final minutes of her supply.

* * *

I was awoken sometime later, by a hand shaking my shoulder.

"What?" I said groggily, opening my eyes to see the still-topless Jacintha lying next to me.

"Jason! Wake up! We fell asleep and now we're even more behind schedule!" she said. Contrasting with her words, her eyes were shining brightly, and I felt sure she was feeling content. Her beautiful, dark breasts were right in front of my face, and I lost focus as I considered how much looser the beautiful spheres now looked.

"Jason!" Jacintha repeated, "Stop staring at my tits!"

"Sorry," I mumbled groggily.

"It's okay, but we have a busy agenda today," she said. "Did you get enough to eat?"

I nodded, out of politeness, but my intestinal tract showed no such decorum. As a hunger pang shot through my midsection, a loud growling noise emanated from the same reason.

"So: obviously not, greedy boy!" Jacintha said, her voice filled with mirth. "I can see I'll have to solve this logistical problem sooner rather than later." She got up, clothed herself, sat behind her desk, and began swiping back and forth on the surface of her tablet. Meanwhile, I went over to my duffel bag, unzipped it, and hunted around for a new shirt. If I was hoping to find something more normal, I was bound to be disappointed. There were two additional tops in the bag, one red and one lavender-colored, both as frilly and revealing as my white one. Sighing, I put the red one on, at least it was not soaked with my own sweat. After a while, I saw another fifteen-inch hologram appear above the surface of her desk. This figure was a different woman from before. Even in miniature, it was obvious from her proportions that she was in the late stages of pregnancy. Jacintha chatted with her in Atlantean for a time, then closed the connection and looked up at me. "Daphne will be able to help you out once she's off work. She's the only nursing mom I could find nearby, for today, but don't worry, we will make sure we don't have the same problem tomorrow."

"Thank you so much!" I gushed. "You're a lifesaver! I feel better already."

"How did it taste?" Jacintha asked, a note of nervousness creeping into her voice once more.

"It was wonderful."

"No, I mean, literally how did it taste? Like, what did it taste like to you?"

I looked at the ceiling, deep in thought. Jacintha fidgeted while I pondered. "I would say 'nutty' is the best description. Yes, like walnuts? One of my favorite flavors."

"That's nice to hear," Jacintha said, "I wish my sisters felt the same way. I wonder what I'm eating to make it so?"

"Search me!" I said, "But keep it up." Then I realized I was being presumptuous. "Sorry, if you feel like it, of course."

"You'd really like more?" she asked.

"As much as you feel you can spare!" I said. I am sure blood rushed to her face, but her complexion hid this fact. Instead she looked down.

"I would like to," she said simply. Then her voice brightened, "I just realized, there's another set phrase related to lactation that we don't usually bother to teach, but I think you're going to want it."

"What's that?"

"I taught you how to respond when a woman offers her milk, but not how to ask for her milk."

"Is that even a thing?" I marveled.

"Yes, but it's subtle. Unless you're in a milk café, it's very rude to ask a mom directly. Instead you just have to allude to wanting milk, in a general sort of way, so that if she simply says nothing, nobody's feelings will get hurt." She went on to teach me the phrase in Atlantean, and had me repeat it.

«It's dry like the desert sands, is it not?» I recited.

«My waters run full,» she replied, in Atlantean.

"In other words," she said, "if she wants to nurse with you, she'll say the same thing she would have if she were offering in the first place."

"And how would she say no?" I asked.

"Literally anything else would mean 'no', including no response at all." Jacintha said, her tone suddenly serious. "Don't ever mess that up, or you'll be shipped back to the mainland on the next plane!" Realizing that she might have scared me, she added, more softly, "I wouldn't worry about getting rejected too often, though. Most of the time, your request will be taken as high praise."

* * *

"While we're waiting for Daphne, I gotta get started on a presentation. Which we should have completed already." Jacintha stood up, swiped several times on her tablet, and a large, rectangular image appeared on the far wall, behind her desk. It was as if there was a small movie screen back there, except that no screen had been visible before. "I know, I know," she said, "this is basically a PowerPoint. Trust me, though, you guys always have the same questions, so we have a standard set of answers."

The title slide read, "Welcome to Atlantea." Below that, smaller script read, "United States of American English Edition". She skipped past this to an image of a spinning globe with a large question mark superimposed above it.

"You're probably wondering where you are, and that's a good question," she said, sounding both rushed, and as if she were reciting lines that she had memorized long ago, and repeated many times. "The answer is, I myself do not know the answer. The only Atlanteans that have the necessary clearance are pilots, navigators, and government officials with a third ring security clearance, or higher. Now, you should also know when you are." She emphasized the word "when" in her final sentence.

The next slide appeared behind the desk, displaying, "14th Smith 11,293PL" in a font so large, each glyph was as big as my torso.

Jacintha explained, "Our nation has been in existence longer than any other on Earth. Nobody knows how long, but it is at least 11,293 years old. We know this because our computerized records go back that far."

The next few slides covered the geography of Atlantea. Physically, the island was around the size of Indiana, and the population was around 18 million. Ten cities had a population of at 80,000 or more, and the largest had a population of around 800,000, with a metro area eclipsing two million. I had trouble focusing on the data, thinking more about how hungry I was feeling, and I forgot the name of the largest metropolis almost as soon as I heard the name. More interesting was the following slide, which covered demographics.

The screen was now displaying a line graph, showing the number of citizens of each age, broken down by gender. I noticed the green line, which represented males, dipped to zero between ages twelve and forty-nine. "You will have surely noticed already that you have not met many Atlantean men yet," Jacintha said, again sounding like she was reciting from a script. "In the age group fifty and above," she continued, highlighting a portion of the graph with a gesture, "the ratio of women to men is five to two. Below age twelve, it is closer to two to one."

I stirred, about to ask a question, but Jacintha held up her hand.

"You are doubtless wondering, what about ages twelve through forty-nine?" She highlighted the section of the graph where the green line dropped to zero. "Briefly, males in this age range are sent out into the world, to be our eyes and ears, as well as to bestow our knowledge and guidance. A number of famous historical figures were born here; you'll learn more about that later. But, for now, what you need to know is that there, at any given time, only five thousand men on the island are in this age range, all in their mid-twenties. You are one of those five thousand."

She held up her hand, before I could ask any of the questions swirling through my brain, and advanced to the next slide. It depicted a young mom, lying in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby. Next to that picture was the text "19-29", and "176,000."

Jacintha continued, "Due to our long history and limited space, as well as scientific research stretching back, literally, millennia, birth control is mandatory, at all times, for all women who have gone through puberty, until they reach menopause, except between ages nineteen through twenty-nine, inclusive. These women are free to have as many children as they like, with only occasional restrictions, or incentives, if the birth rate tracks too far from the target of 176,000 per year."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I understood the words Jacintha was saying, but none of it seemed real. She continued on. The next slide depicted a group of men, all impossibly handsome like the ones I had flown in with. Every ethnic group I could think of had a representative, from a lantern-jawed Midwestern farm boy to a young man wearing the robes of a Tibetan monk, to a man wearing the garb of a Central African tribe, and many more.

"You are one of the five thousand men on the island who are allowed to inseminate women. Again, you'll learn much more about this. For now, simply know that semi-annual visa extensions will depend on meeting quotas, which increase sharply the longer you reside here."

The presentation went on for another fifteen minutes, but I was too shocked to absorb the content. Just then, there was a knock at the office door. A woman, slightly taller than Jacintha, came inside, and I recognized her as the pregnant woman from the hologram.

* * *

Jacintha introduced Daphne and I to each other. After the formal greeting, Daphne explained, "I am sorry I could not arrive sooner, I had too much work that had to be complete before tomorrow. Jaci explained your unique dietary needs; you must be famished after that lengthy flight!" Unlike Jacintha, whose accent and use of idiom were so sophisticated, she could have passed for an American, Daphne sounded like Rhea and Calista. In other words, it was clear she had learned English from a book.

When she brought up my need for breast milk, her hands came to rest, perhaps unconsciously, high up on her chest, a few inches below her collarbones. Below were the largest breasts I could remember seeing, at least up close. Bigger even than Phoebe's, they were resting on top Daphne's stunning, distended round belly, which extended far from her waist. Although I would never dare ask, it looked as if she would be giving birth any time now. To my continued embarrassment, my stomach growled, just at this moment, before I could respond. I wanted to thank her for helping me out, and assure her that she had no need to apologize.

"Daph," Jacintha interjected, in response to the growl from my belly, "Could you help him practice the proper formalities around breastfeeding? We normally don't get into it for another week, but he is... a special case."