Atlantea Ch. 16

DAY 7: 20TH SMITH 11,293PL

KUMAIYA ISLAND

At around 10AM on Swordday, the Atlantean equivalent of Saturday, a soft chime began to play; it emanated from a hidden speaker in my bedroom. I groaned audibly as I contemplated having to get up to open the door. My stomach groaned, too. I hadn't fed since around 4PM the day before. For most of the week, I had been getting just enough breast milk to get by. Xyra had disappeared, without telling me where she was going, the day after the encounter with Khrystyna. I had been worried her absence had something to do with that, but Jacintha assured me the Valkyrie simply had to escort another flight from the mainland. Every day since then, I was only nursing once each with Jacintha and Vasilika, which amounted to a subsistence diet. It made me realize how dependent I was on Xyra. My CL was extremely apologetic about this state of affairs, that she was working on solving the "supply chain" problem, and that the following week would be better.

The ringing of my front door chime was evidence that her hard work was already paying off. I swung my legs off the bed and, after staring at the floor for a few seconds, levered myself up and got dressed. I still felt faintly ridiculous in my tight leather pants and open shirt, but there was nothing for it.

Outside the door, Daphne was patiently waiting. She looked haggard, with large, dark areas under her eyes, and a sallow complexion. Resting on her hip was a large, square, black case, supported by a mesh strap that went around her opposite shoulder. I let her in, and she gave me a peck on the cheek.

"It's wonderful t' see ya!" I said, in Atlantean. "How're ya doin'?"

"Sore, mostly," she said, wanly. "And tired. But good."

"And baby? I was hoping you could bring her."

"Ariadne is healthy. And a good sleeper, thank the Mother! She's with her other mommies right now. I wanted to show her off, too, but they're strict about letting anyone in or out of Kumaiya without authorization. Even newborns aren't allowed, which I think is ridiculous."

"I'll hafta see her nex' month, then!" I said; I missed my own children and was looking forward to meeting the baby I'd played a minor role in helping bring into the world. Then, realizing I was being presumptuous, I added, "If that's alright with y'all, of course."

"I'd love that," Daphne said. "Can I put this stuff in the refrigerator?" She gestured at the box on her hip as she asked this. It looked heavy.

I nodded, and followed her as she trudged into the kitchen. She put the case on the counter and unzipped the top. Inside were four rows of eight vessels, held in place by circular foam holders They looked for all the world like anodized carbon-fiber sippy cups. I had seen similar ones during my interview with Xanthia. Daphne began transferring them to the fridge.

"Is that breast milk?" I asked. My stomach growled loudly.

"Of course," she said. "Mostly mine, but my sisters pitched in, too!"

"Can y'all spare any, with th' new baby an' all?"

"Oh please, there are so many lactating women in our house right now, we have milk coming out our ears!"

My stomach growled, reminding me again of the fact that I was starving. "Wouldya mind if I grabbed one of those?" I asked, pointing at a container.

"Of course I mind!" Daphne said, putting her fists on her hips. "What do you think these are for?" she asked, moving her hands to the top of her prodigious chest. "I even saved up for you."

"Oh," I said, blushing. "I guess, then, it is dry like--" I started to say the stock phrase to ask an Atlantean woman for milk, but Daphne cut me off.

"Jason, I appreciate the politeness, but there is no need. In fact, I'll be offended if you use such niceties, in future."

"So I should just, what, start in on you?"

"Actually, yes," she said, smiling. "Think of it as a reward for helping me get that interminable pregnancy over with!"

"It was hardly a chore for me, you know!" I said.

"That's nice, but I'm still thankful, and I want you to drink my milk whenever you want," she said. Her jaw had a rigid set to it, and she stared at me expectantly.

I started to say something again, but she shook her head, so instead I took her arm and led her over to one of the nursing stools. I adjusted the height so that my mouth would be in line with her downward-facing nipples and sat down. She stood in front of me, passively, staring ahead with a cryptic smile. My heart raced as I took the hem of her shirt and lifted. She raised her arms, and her titanic breasts flopped out of the space-age material that had been cupping them perfectly. Daphne looked pleased when she saw the look of adoration on my face. Her breasts, the largest I'd ever seen in the flesh, were yet bigger than last time, and looked impossibly swollen.

'She wasn't joking about saving up for me!' I thought.

"Jason?" she asked, suddenly shy. "I have one request."

"Anything," I said.

"Once you start, don't stop. It feels better the longer you do it without stopping. And please no more formalities! I'm serious!"

I latched on, and after a few sucks, was rewarded as numerous streams of milk shot from the small pale nipple on her left-hand side. The flavor was as nutty as I remembered from earlier in the week, and the creamy texture was divine. I wanted to ask her if I was sucking too hard -- I felt like I was starving, and it was hard not to be greedy -- but she kept her hands firmly around the back of my head, as a reminder not to stop for any reason.

It took over half an hour for her left breast to stop producing milk. During that time, the loquacious Daphne gave me a run-down of everything that had happened since I had last seen her being led away by the paramedics. Labor had gone well, lasting around five hours. While that sounded hard, she explained that it had taken fifteen hours the first time around. She also gushed over her new baby.

It was not all happy news, however. She was frank about feeling exhausted all the time, and even depressed, in her darkest moments. The room was silent for a while, after that admission; the only sounds one could hear were my suckling and swallowing, and her faint sniffles as she shed a few tears.

"Jason?" she asked, at last regaining her voice after some minutes had passed. She was using a questioning tone despite not expecting a verbal answer. "I have a favor to ask you. And please don't feel like you have to say yes."

I gave her a thumbs-up gesture.

"I was, well, I was hoping you would be willing to be Ariadne's godfather." Here she used an Atlantean term that did not literally include the words "god" or "father", but which is best translated into English that way. "I know we have not known each other for long, but after you helped me induce labor, I feel quite connected with you."

I made to pull off, but she held my head firmly. "No, please don't stop! It feels good right now. Just, oh, make a thumbs-up gesture if you'd like to. Or if you want time to think about it, that's okay."

I did not need time to think about it. Resisting the urge to pull off and say something dramatic, I made the thumbs-up gesture.

"Wonderful!" Daphne crowed, as she wove her hands, unconsciously, through my hair.

We were silent for a few minutes, as I nursed steadily away. I had drunk so much already, I felt certain that almost anyone else would have needed a break by now.

"Jason?" Daphne asked, again in her shy voice. "I keep asking you stuff, but, oh, I guess what the heck. I'll just ask."

I made an encouraging thumbs-up gesture.

Knowing my inclinations, Daphne held my head with surprising force before asking her question, "I'd like you to give me another baby, if that's okay?"

Her premonition had been correct. Had she not been gripping the back of my head firmly, I would have pulled off in order to respond with a gushing acceptance. Instead, I enthusiastically lifted my thumb several times. Both her hands now snaked across my head rhythmically.

"After my vagina heals," she added. I felt a bulge in my pants in response. I think she could feel it, as well, as her thigh was pressed into my midsection. "Patience you!" she chided.

Relieved to have gotten both of her requests out into the open, and better still to have gotten an affirmative to both, Daphne resumed her monologue. By the time we were ready to switch to her right breast, I felt like I knew more about her sisters' day-to-day lives than they did.

"Jason?" Daphne asked me yet again, but not in the shy voice. "I'm tired of standing, could we lie down for the next one?"

I nodded, and led her to my bedroom. She lay down on her right side. I joined her in bed, offset so that my mouth was at her nipple. Her left boob, now drained of milk, spread out loosely over the still-taut right one. As I nursed steadily, again she held my head firmly and continued to talk. The primary subject this time was about her body, how her hips, back and feet were still painful. To my surprise, she did not leave out any details of how her vagina was feeling, including bleeding, cramping, and general soreness. It made me happy that she felt so comfortable around me, and I made a silent vow never to violate the immense trust she most clearly had in me.

"That is the longest I've ever nursed for," she said. Her right breast was empty now, and I had scooted up so that we were facing each other, still lying on our sides.

"Thank you!" I said. "And, since I couldn't talk at the time, I just wanted to say: it would be a true honor to be Ariadne's godfather!" I gushed. "And an equally great pleasure to give you as many more children as you desire!"

Daphne started to cry again; this time, I hoped, they were tears of joy. I bent forward to kiss away the wetness from her cheeks. She let me, but only for a few seconds, then tilted her head so that our lips met. She opened her lips slightly, and we made out. I do not know how long, but when we were done, she looked at me with lidded eyes.

"Would you mind if I took a nap here?" she asked in an indistinct, drowsy voice.

"Of course. And how about I give you a massage while you're resting?"

"Mmm," she said, by way of acknowledgment.

She rolled onto her back, hooked her fingers into the band of her stretchy black tights, and tugged downwards. Clearly exhausted, I helped her work them over her wide hips and rounded butt, then pulled down until I had worked them past her ankles and feet.

"So beautiful," I said, as I admired her chubby thighs and distended belly.

"Mmm," she hummed, barely awake now.

I retrieved some massage oil, and proceeded to give her a long, full-body massage, starting with her feet, and working my way up to her shoulder and neck. Then she rolled onto her stomach, and I started over from her feet again. When I got to her butt, I found myself mesmerized, and spent an extra ten minutes massaging the massive mounds. Having spent countless hours in the gym, myself, working on my own glutes, I could only imagine how much work she put into hers. Her ass rose impossibly far from her tailbone.

"Like what you see, hmm?" she said, drowsily.

"T' be honest, I've never seen such a perfectly sculpted ass," I said.

"Compliments will get you everywhere," she said, spreading her legs. I could now see the dark skin of her labia, as well as the rosebud of her ass. Both were surrounded by short black pubic hairs. As if she could feel where my gaze was directed, she added, "I am sorry, Jason, I know how much you like to lick vaginas, but mine is not ready."

"Please, don' worry 'bout it!"

After two hours of hard pressure, I felt exhausted as well, and lay down next to her. My stomach growled, and I was about to ask permission to drink from her boobs, when I remembered that she had just told me not to do that very thing. I put a pillow under my head, and latched on to her left nipple, holding her massive breast with both hands to keep it aligned with my mouth. Half-asleep, Daphne made a happy purring sound, and her hands took up their familiar positions around the back of my head. Twenty minutes later, both breasts were empty again.

"Mother," Daphne said, sleepily. "I could do this all day!"

* * *

"Do you want me to put my top back on?" Daphne asked me. We were standing around the kitchen, drinking coffee together. She took hers black, and I had sprayed, much to her delight, some of her milk into mine.

"I'd never say no to your being topless," I said.

"We're usually topless at home," she explained, "so I'm more comfortable that way."

"Let's just say I'll never get tired of seeing you without a shirt on. So it's entirely up to you."

"That's sweet, Jason, but I'd rather you express an opinion," she said, her face serious all of a sudden.

"Topless," I said, trying to match her tone. It was the right answer, for both of us, as she blushed and smiled in response.

"Good," she said. "Now, Jaci also said you've been running out of milk during the week, so I'm gonna start delivering our extra supply to you. I don't know exactly when I'll be able to get over here, though, my schedule is kind of up in the air. Can I just text you to coordinate, so you can let me in?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, then thought of something that I had been wondering about. "Or, is there any way I could give you a key or something? I don't have one myself."

Daphne thought for a moment. "Well, if it's okay with you, sure, you can program the door to open automatically for me."

"Great! Can we do that?"

"You won't mind if you just randomly run into me here?" she asked. "I can text you, first, to make sure it's okay."

"Naw! You're always welcome!" I said. "Plus you're doing me an enormous favor. Your milk is the best, and I know pumping for me is a chore."

Blushing, Daphne said, "I don't mind, if it's for you, or my kids."

Daphne showed me how to add her profile to the home security system. The front door would now open for her, just like it did for me. While we were at it, I added Jacintha as well.

"Can I add someone whom I don't have contact info for?" I asked.

"Have they been here before?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me show you." Daphne took the home automation tablet from my hand, and navigated to a screen with a gallery of photos, each one a snapshot of the area outside the entrance to my apartment. "Which one is it?" she asked.

I pointed at a picture of Xyra standing impatiently in the hallway.

"She's pretty!" Daphne said. She made a gesture, zooming in on the Valkyrie's face.

"So are you!" I said, reflexively.

"Bullshitter! I'm not in her league, and don't try to tell me otherwise," Daphne said.

* * *

Later that day, I found myself standing in front of Mylia's family spa. It was located next to a cafe, tucked away in the back of a cul-de-sac. The spa was doing brisk business, and had not been able to get me in earlier in the week. I was momentarily disappointed when Myliya was not present to let me in, although this feeling lasted for but a second.

"Are you Mr. Walker?" asked the woman behind the counter, in unaccented Atlantean. Her voice was soft and friendly.

I was put immediately at ease, both by her tone of voice, and her approachable appearance. Easily the oldest-looking Atlantean I had ever met, if she were a mainlander one would assume she was in her early sixties. She had a pleasantly broad, lined face, with large green eyes, a wide nose, and gray hair, tied into a thick braid.

"Yep, that'd be me," I said, bracing for the usual amused reaction to my hick accent.

"Oh, how I just love your accent, dearie!" the woman exclaimed.

She arose from behind a counter, and I could not help but stare, before catching myself and lifting my gaze to meet her eyes. She was wearing a red bikini top. It hid little, showing deep cleavage and a number of stretch marks which I found only added to her allure. Around her waist was a matching red sash, similar to Mylia's -- a pleated cloth strip that looked to be haphazardly wrapped around her wide hips.

"My name's Allatu," she said, proffering a hand. "I'll be taking care of you today."

"A pleasure," I replied.

"Remind me of what you're here for? I've learned to double-check these things. People don't like when you remove the wrong hair!"

"I'd like all hair below my neck removed."

Allatu nodded.

I continued, my face now reddening. "And, uh, I'm not sure y'all do this, ma'am, but d'y'all do anal bleaching here? I got that done a lot back home."

Allatu's face betrayed no sign of squeamishness. "Please, call me Allatu, dearie, not ma'am. And yes, we do something like that, although we don't call it anal bleaching."

Relieved, I let her lead me into the treatment room. Unlike the brutal spa I used back home, the one with a scary Russian power-lifter for a technician, this room was spacious and airy. Along one wall were a number of abstract paintings. At first, I thought they were oils, but after a moment, one of them shifted, and I realized each one was a high-resolution screen that rotated between different pieces. Another wall was comprised almost entirely of rows of potted green plants. The watering system made a steady, relaxing burble. In the center of the room was a padded table with a fluffy white towel lying across the middle.

"Do you want another towel to wrap around you?" Allatu asked me. "I will need you to remove it part of the time, but I can keep that to a minimum, if you'd like."

"I don't need th' towel, so it's up to you. I'm use' t' bein' manhandled by this Russian power-lifter lady at the clinic back home, so any modesty I might've had is long gone!" I said.

"Well, trust me dearie, I've been on this Earth long enough to have seen darn near everything, so no need for modesty on my account," Allatu replied, making a sweeping gesture with her hands towards the table.

I stood next to it and swiftly disrobed. As my trousers and underpants came off, Allatu inhaled audibly.

"Or maybe this old bird hasn't seen everything yet," she said, mostly to herself, but loud enough that I could hear.

I had a "my eyes are up here" moment that usually only women experience, as Allatu tried to maintain eye contact with me. Her gaze kept drifting down to my midsection. She would catch herself, only to have it lower again seconds later. Smiling, I lay down on the bed. Allatu wheeled a machine that looked vaguely like a clothes steamer or IV drip machine at a hospital. She unhooked a wide, plastic nozzle, which was connected to the base of the machine by a flexible, spiral cord. After flipping a switch, a purple light began to emanate from tip.

"Now you'll be happy to know that we don't use any of that godawful Brazilian wax here. In fact, most people don't feel the Depilight at all. It just makes your hairs, kind of, slough off. At worst, you'll feel a slight tingly sensation."

"Bring 'er on!" I said.

Allatu had me flip onto my stomach, and began the hair removal process starting at the base of my neck. At one point, she had to spread my ass cheeks to remove the fine hairs there. As promised, I barely felt any sensation at all.

"Is that actually doing anything?" I asked.

"Yup, neat, huh?" she said. She had me reach around and feel a small section of my back. Sure enough, the skin was perfectly smooth.

Allatu continued waving the device across my body. She murmured indistinctly as she moved aside my massively developed glutes, and then my lower legs. At this point, she also performed the anal bleaching, which, despite having a different name, used equivalent equipment to the unpleasant procedure I was used to. Once done with that, she had me rotate onto my back. Again, I heard a sharp intake of breath as she saw my front again.

"I will have to lift your penis," she said, once she had finished my chest and the better part of my stomach.