Atlantea Ch. 13

"Do you need help getting to the hospital?" I asked.

"You are kind, Jason, but I will be taken care of, and you will not be able to accompany me off the island."

"Isn't there a hospital on the island?"

"Yes, but it is a small one, and in any case my sisters are not authorized to come here. Kumaiya Island is what is called an International Zone. It requires authorization to come to the island, and you visitors cannot leave until completing the induction process. I am only allowed to come here because of my work, but my sisters have jobs elsewhere, so they cannot. Do not worry, however, the medical technicians will arrive shortly."

"Isn't there anything I can do for you?"

"You have given me a wonderful gift. Words cannot express how much I was dreading the next few days. I have not had a full night of sleep in weeks!" She embraced me again, and planted another wet kiss on my lips. With her hands circling my head, she pulled back and said, "If you are still here in a year's time, I would like to make a baby with you! I would vote for you now, with this one, if it were allowed." She patted her stomach.

"I'd love that!" I said, blurting out the words despite feeling an inner shock. Khrystyna had also implied, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted me to inseminate her. This was the second time in less than twelve hours!

"Can you help me get dressed?" Daphne said.

As I gathered her garments, Jacintha returned yet again. "Finally!" she said, seeing that we were finished having sex. To my surprise, she was sanguine about the mess we had made. There was a dark stain on the rug, and milk stains on the chaise lounge. "I'll get some towels," she said, and disappeared back into the hallway. She returned a few minutes later, with a stack of clean white towels. Behind her were two women wearing blue, short-sleeved shirts, with bright orange vests. One of them was pushing a wheelchair.

"Do you have time to get to the hospital off the island?" I asked Daphne.

"No worry," one of the EMTs said, with an unusually thick accent, before Daphne could answer. "Medilift waiting." The EMT's eyes were locked on my midsection, but I was too preoccupied with Daphne to think through the implications, at the time.

"Think of a mash-up of an ambulance and a big-ass drone," Jacintha clarified.

After giving me a final hug, and a kiss on the cheek, Daphne allowed the techs to wheel her away.

* * *

As the door clicked shut, Jacintha turned to face me. Only now did I realize I had not yet put on any clothes, so focused had I been on the woman who was about to give birth. Not only was I completely nude, my penis was coated in a mixture of amniotic fluid, cum and pee. I flushed red, both because Jacintha was staring at me, and because the EMTs had seen me in all my messy glory.

"Is that real?" Jacintha asked.

"What?" I replied.

"Your dick; that thing is freaky huge."

"Of course it's real!" I said.

"I'm just fuckin' witcha," Jacintha said. "I'm shocked, is all. Your body measurements are in your file, but I kinda glossed over your penis' length and diameter. I've never seen one that big before."

"How is that info 'on file'?" I asked, incredulously.

"Remember that body scanner you've been in, at least twice?"

"Yeah," I said.

"How do you think your clothes fit you so well? It creates a 3-D model of your body. It does other things, too, like scanning for leukemia." She paused, to see if I had any questions, but I was still mulling over these latest revelations. "So do you find many women who can handle you?" she said, returning to the subject of my penis.

"There seem to be enough, yes," I said, unable to stifle a grin.

"I'm not sure I could, I'm pretty shallow in the pussy department," she said in a matter-of-fact tone. She threw me a towel and I wiped myself off, then got dressed. Jacintha looked at her watch. "Wow, I have a lot more to cover with you today. First, I need to get ya set up with a phone." She went over to her desk and fished out a translucent rectangle of plastic from a drawer. She swiped a few times on the screen, held it to her left wrist, swiped a few more times, then held it up to my left wrist, where the implant had been injected before the flight to Atlantea. She walked me through its functionality, which, other than being built from translucent plastic, was not all that different from a regular smartphone.

"Can I browse the Internet?" I asked.

"More or less, but it's not the Internet you're thinking of. We have our own local one. It's a lot smaller than what you're used to."

"What about Wikipedia and stuff?"

"There are archived copies of some pages. They tend to be out of date, because the Conclave of Information has to scan any pages for subversive or dangerous content."

"Subversive like how?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask. Something to do with terrorists and spying; shit like that? I dunno."

Staring at my new device, a thought suddenly struck me, and notions of terrorists and the Internet fled my mind. "So can I call Calista? Or vice versa?"

"Eventually, yes, of course," Jacintha said sympathetically. "Unfortunately, for now, you will only be able call numbers on Kumaiya Island itself, or people like me, who are already in your contact list. And the same works the other way around." She paused for a few beats. "That reminds me, a few people have put in a request for your contact information. They won't be able to contact you by phone, so that really just means they want the address of your apartment. Can I give it out?"

"Like who?"

"Let's see." Jacintha consulted her tablet. "A Khrystyna Mercouri?"

"Oh, she was one of the flight attendants. Sure!"

Jacintha raised an eyebrow, but merely nodded. "And, let's see. Xyra Urbarra? That's the Valkyrie, right?"

"I never heard her last name, but that's gotta be her. Go ahead."

"Wait, are you certain? Those chicks scare me, and I grew up here."

"We have an understanding," I said.

"Suit yourself," Jacintha said. "So, moving right along, now that you have your phone, can you look at your calendar app?"

I swiped around until I found the appropriate icon and brought up the app.

"Let's go over tomorrow's schedule." Jacintha showed me how to get the phone to project onto a wall, so we could both look at a blown-up image of the following day's agenda. Although my interface was set to use US English, the top of the screen read "Compassday", rather than "Tuesday." It was jam-packed. "The first thing you'll notice," Jacintha pointed out, "is that you have six hours of language classes every day, spread over three classes."

I groaned audibly.

"Don't worry," she said, putting an hand on my arm, "we are good at teaching our language to mainlanders."

I groaned again. "I almost flunked Spanish in high school. There is literally nothing that I'm worse at!"

"I'm sure you'll do fine. We rarely have to send anyone back."

My stomach sank into the soles of my feet. "Wait, what? Send back?"

"Yes, if you cannot learn our language, to a reasonable level of fluency -- there's a test -- you will be sent home. It does not happen often, though. We have an excellent program. It's the main reason you'll be spending so much time on the island."

"Why's it so damn important to learn the language so fast?" I said, unable to keep the petulance out of my voice. I felt like every time I got closer to being able to see my true love again, some new hurdle appeared, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Very few Atlanteans speak a foreign language, at all. Given your mission, if you can't communicate, you're going to have a rough time."

"I thought everyone here learned lots of languages!" I said, still annoyed.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Calista spoke seven. Her English and Spanish were perfect, as far as I could tell, and she said she knew five more."

"What a little miss smarty-pants your girlfriend is!" Jacintha had her hands on her hips, in mock annoyance. "That's not at all normal here. In my House, for example, I'm the only one who speaks a second language, and that's only because I knew I'd be working with foreigners. I don't think any of my mothers knew another language."

"How could you have more than one mother?" I asked, momentarily distracted from our conversation by her odd use of the plural.

"All your mother's sisters are your mothers, too," she said.

I just stared at her.

"I can see how that might not make sense," she said. "This will be explained in much greater detail in your Culture of Atlantea course. But I guess the main thing is, when we say 'mother' here we mean any one of the women who raised us -- there are usually five -- not just the one who gave birth to us."

I continued to stare. Jacintha sighed.

"If I wanted to be precise, I would say 'birth mother'; but we rarely bother. In fact, when I just say 'mother' I mean the one I was closest to."

"You weren't close to your birth mom?" I asked, utterly shocked for what felt like the thousandth time since landing.

"Not really; we fought a lot, especially when I got older. I connected much better with one of my other moms."

"Wasn't that hard growing up?" I asked.

"Not really. We don't expect people to get along with each other just because of shared genetics. It's one of the many advantages of having five moms, the chance you don't gel with one of them is so unlikely!"

"What about your dad? Did you know him?"

"I have two daddies." Jacintha said, then grinned broadly. "They both completely rock, by the way. I love, love, love them! But you probably mean my birth father? I'm not sure if he was even still here on the island by the time I was born. My birth mother never said."

While I mulled over the implications of what I had just learned, Jacintha went back to explaining the rest of my schedule for the following day. It had been adjusted from the other men's, so that I could breastfeed at regular intervals. I was grateful that my odd needs had been accommodated, but was also keenly aware of the downside. I would miss out on breakfast and lunch, group activities both, good opportunities to get to know the other visiting men.

* * *

It was dark by the time we reached the door of my apartment. It was two subway stops farther along from the one for Jacintha's office, and was located on the second floor of a four-story stone building. The outer walls of the structure were painted in vibrant colors, although I could not tell which ones precisely, in the dark. As we walked through the lobby doors, I noted that these exterior walls were several feet thick. The tile floor of the elevator lobby, like the subway station, had deeply worn grooves everywhere, giving me the impression it had been there for centuries. Still, it had a modern elevator, and the door to my apartment slid silently to one side when I pressed a metallic orange button mounted on one side of the door frame.

"You can't see it but there's a camera, and we pre-programmed it to recognize your face. So don't worry about anyone barging in here. Not that you'd really have to worry about that anyway. This is the safest place on the planet."

My accommodations were more than acceptable, easily the nicest I had ever had. There was a spacious living room with a floor composed of large tiles. There was also a well-appointed galley kitchen, a bedroom with a queen-sized bed, and enormous bathroom with a soaking tub and a separate shower enclosure. I took off my shoes, and was delighted to feel that the floor, contrary to my expectation, felt warm against the soles of my feet. Jacintha hurriedly showed me around the apartment, including how to use the entertainment system, and then excused herself. Just as she was leaving, my stomach gurgled again. I winced, and Jacintha looked contrite. Tapping her boobs, she said, "Sorry, you're just going to have to tough it out, I'm already an hour late."

"Of course," I said, "I'll be fine."

Jacintha surprised me by giving me a quick peck on my cheek, patting me on the butt as she did so, before taking off. After the door slid closed behind her, I entered the bedroom and unpacked my duffel bag. I was pleased to find, as I made to hang up my only unused shirt, the lavender one, that a number of other garments were hanging there already, presumably sized to my body proportions. The dresser was filled with folded trousers and g-string underpants as well. I was too tired to look through the clothes, despite hoping that at least some of the shirts buttoned up higher than my navel, and that some of the pants had pockets. Instead, I wearily squeezed out of my leather pants and g-string, and peeled off my sticky red shirt. I had learned that there would be a daily cleaning service, including laundry, so just threw the clothes in a hamper in the bathroom. Then I took a shower, washing hours of sweat and bodily fluids, mostly Daphne's, off of my body. I brushed my teeth using a new electric toothbrush they had left for me, put on a bathrobe, which fit me perfectly, and sat down on the couch to relax in front of the television. If I could figure out how to turn it on, that is.

I had just gotten the massive screen to appear across the room, and was navigating through a user interface to the point where I could browse some shows, when I heard a sonorous noise. It rang out again before I realized it must be the doorbell. As I approached the door, the entire surface appeared to turn translucent, and I was able to see a familiar form waiting on the other side.

"Hi, Xyra," I said, reflexively, as the door slid open. As from the outside, it was operated by a metallic orange button.

The Valkyrie, cold green eyes as flat as ever, did not bother answering, merely grunting as she stepped across the threshold. Once the door closed, she began to strip. There was less to take off this time, compared to the plane; she had on a sweat-stained white tank top, her industrial-strength nursing bra, cargo pants, and thick leather sandals, without socks. Once fully nude, she turned to face me and slid her hands up along my pectorals and over my shoulders, causing the bathrobe to slip to the floor. She grinned as my cock was exposed, grabbed the still-flaccid member with one hand, and put her other hand on my chest, clearly intending to maneuver me onto the couch.

I felt, at this moment, like I had to put my foot down. Although I was clearly no match for her, physically, there had to be some boundaries. Specifically, while I liked how she smelled, she was emanating body odor. "New rule, Xyra, no sex without shower," I said, unable to help myself, even knowing she would not understand me. She stared at me like I was an idiot, but did stop pushing me backwards. To illustrate my point, I waved my hand in front of my nose, and pointed to the bathroom. Xyra barked out a laugh, and, without letting go of my cock, made for the bathroom, dragging me helplessly behind her.

She pulled me into the shower stall with her, and turned on the water. It was far too cold for me, so I turned the round pewter handle that controlled the temperature toward the warm side. Xyra laughed again, presumably at my faintness of heart. I did not bother asking permission this time, just started to lather up washcloths and clean off her body. She was not as dirty as before, so I only needed two of them for her legs and lower torso.

'What kind of drills are they doing?' I wondered.

When I got to her hairy armpits, I once again had to devote two washcloths just to get the smell out. I also paid more attention to a tattoo on her left shoulder, having noted it before, without looking closely. In black ink, it depicted a skull with wings, beneath which flowed a banner with Aurebesh script. 'That's not ominous,' I thought sarcastically. Next I soaped and rinsed off her firm tits; I could feel they were filled with milk. My cock grew stiff in her rough hand. Faster than I could think, she climbed onto me. Fortunately I was strong enough to hold her weight, even in this awkward standing position. With one hand gripping my left shoulder, she pulled herself up, then slid her vagina onto my cock. Her powerful legs wrapped around the back of my thighs, and she began to slide up and down, gradually taking more of me inside of her.

As pleasurable as this was, I was also feeling tired and cranky from the long day, and it made me more aggressive than I had been on the airplane. Realizing that, for once, she did not have any obvious physical leverage over me, I grabbed her rounded butt cheeks firmly with either hand, and carried her across the shower enclosure. 'Please don't kill me for this,' I thought, on the way over. 'Please don't kill me for this.' I pushed her into the tile of the far wall. Along the way, she continued to fuck me with her rhythmic hip motions, but once we were up against the tiled surface, she had to stop. Instead, I took over, pushing deeply inside of her, keeping her waist pinned. She slid her hands under my armpits, wrapped around the back and held on to my shoulders.

Our gazes locked. Her green orbs bore into mine, and for the first time since I had met her, I could see something other than cool flatness: her eyes were flashing with bright intensity. I scanned the rest of her face and saw a feral smile emerge on her lips. Her hands moved up to the back of my head, and she smashed our mouths together. Emboldened, I pushed her with greater force into the wall, thrusting faster and with all my might. She pulled harder on my head, her long tongue snaking around mine.

This lasted for all of about thirty seconds. Without warning, I found myself in the reverse position, my back against the wall and her hips once again in complete control, thrusting up and down on top of my cock. I have no idea how she was able to effect this change; there were no obvious means for her to gain a leverage over me. But, then again, I was not the special forces operative with years of training. We were still kissing passionately, but when I looked into her eyes again, the flat look had returned. Our lovemaking turned into a running battle. Every few minutes I would push her into the opposite wall and fuck her with as much vigor as I could muster, then she would inevitably turn the tables on me. She had many of her subtle orgasms along the way. As usual, the only signs were the faint lines appearing around her eyes, and minimal clamping inside her vagina. At last, tired of holding up her body weight, I let myself cum inside of her, shooting wave after wave of hot sperm onto her cervix. Her hands clawed my back, leaving long scratches, as her hips continued their ceaseless pumping.

After that, I dried her off -- I got the impression that she expected this -- then waited while I did the same for myself. She then led me, as always holding my penis, to the bedroom, and pushed me down onto the queen-sized bed. Briefly, she went to the living room, returning with a line of xhash on her right index finger, which she stuck into my mouth. Then she spit several times on her right hand and wiped her saliva all over my dick, pulling and twisting while the drug went to work and got me hard.

Thankfully, she did not seem interested in the Amazon position tonight. Instead she had me scoot back along the bed, then straddled my hips and mounted my cock, sliding it easily up inside of herself. Leaning forward, the tall woman grabbed a pillow, slid it under my head, and brought her left boob to my mouth. Although I desperately wanted to drink, I decided to mess with my warrior friend.

«It's dry like the desert sands, is it not?» I said, in my inexplicably perfect, if countrified, accent.

«My waters run full,» Xyra said, automatically, before catching herself. Then she began to laugh, her vagina contracting with each chortle.

"Beef-wit!" she said, seemingly in English.