tagSci-Fi & FantasyTripletit 31: Healing

Tripletit 31: Healing

byoggbashan©

Copyright Oggbashan February 2019

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

The events in this story are out of sequence from my other Tripletit stories. It can be read on its own.


*****

'If only' can be the saddest statement.

I was happily married to Fiona. The sex we enjoyed was enough for me, in a loving relationship. My sexual efforts pleased her, hers pleased me. When we did make love both of us were very satisfied with the experience. The only regret was that she hadn't become pregnant yet.

That was mainly my fault. My sperm were few and weak, and we were thinking about further medical intervention to ensure at least one of my sperm fertilised one of her eggs, in a test tube if necessary. We were saving money for the costs of fertility treatment.

If only... We hadn't been unable to afford that fertility treatment. If we had been able to, I wouldn't have taken employment on the planet Xenon-6. Fiona and I had discussed it for weeks before I applied for the job. We knew the risks but thought I would avoid them.

When my employers offered me a few very well-paid months on the planet Xenon-6, we couldn't refuse. The proceeds would be more than enough for a couple of fertility treatments, maybe more.

But there was a slight risk. There was a rare virus on Xenon-6. The locals were immune, but humans from Earth might catch it. The risk was one in ten thousand visitors. Seventy per cent of those who caught it could be cured on-planet with no after effects. It could be only caught on Xenon-6 and couldn't be transmitted to other humans.

I was the one in ten thousand and I wasn't one of the seventy per cent. I left Xenon-6 still suffering from the virus. If I experienced any stress, even mild disquiet, I was prone to fits like an epileptic, and occasional delirium. I could see things that weren't there, hear voices that were unreal, and lose any concept of who I was or where I was.

If only? But I was disabled with little prospect of improvement. Obviously Fiona and I were upset. I had an incurable disease and my condition made me almost unemployable.

My employers were sympathetic. They accepted responsibility, paid compensation, and medically retired me on sixty per cent of my last year's earnings (including the extra for being on Xenon-6). Financially we were secure. We now owned our home outright. My employers gave me a contract as an occasional consultant paid for each completed project. I could work from home, sometimes. I couldn't drive or operate machinery. That could be dangerous.

My medical retirement pension, now I wasn't paying to buy our home, was more available cash than when I had been earning, and would increase with the minimal inflation on Earth. We had enough money to do the improvements we had wanted to do to our 19th Century house. Changing the sash windows to double glazed ones had been impossible before. They are so large and tall. The few consultancy projects had paid for the double glazing without affecting my income.

Our sex life was ended. Any attempt at even mild sexual activity would trigger a fit in me. My arms and legs would thrash uncontrollably, risking injury to me or Fiona. She tried wrapping me tightly, or even tying me securely to the bed, but that produced the delusions. They were distressing for both us.

Fiona was getting desperate. We had enough money for the fertility treatments but there was no way I could ejaculate to produce the semen she needed. Even if I could, and the medical procedures were successful, she would still be my part-time carer. She couldn't be away for the treatment while my illness needed her to be there for me. Perhaps I could go to a nursing home for a few days? We could afford that.

We discussed the possibilities. If Fiona became pregnant we would need another carer for me during the last couple of months. After the baby was born, could Fiona look after the baby and care for me? Could we afford live-in help? The answers were always no, we couldn't cope financially in the longer term. Having a family while I was disabled would be difficult if not impossible.

Fiona was also upset that we couldn't make love. We had enjoyed ourselves together before Xenon-6. We had thought that it would be difficult for both of us while we were parted. I bought a vibrator for her; she bought a penis sheath for me. Neither had been as good as making love together. Now? My condition made any love-making dangerous and an unpleasant experience for both of us. If only my fits and delusions could be suppressed?

We avoided talking about the virus I had contracted on Xenon-6. We didn't talk about starting a family. Both topics were taboo in our relationship. We knew they were there but they were insoluble problems.

It is those two words again - if only.

+++

One of Fiona's former work colleagues mentioned the planet Tripletit. I knew almost nothing about Tripletit except the legends of mind-blowing sex. That planet was so far away, so expensive to get to, and I wouldn't be able to go there.

Fiona spent hours on line researching all she could find out. Much of it was aimed at male tourists thinking of visiting Tripletit.

This is a summary of Fiona's research:

Tripletit. That isn't the planet's real name. It is the third planet out from the local sun so its name starts with 'Tri' but every spaceman calls it Tripletit.

One of the characteristics of the giant three-breasted women of Tripletit is that drinking milk from their right or left breasts produces euphoria, an ability to make love for hours, and heals most infections and illnesses. Those fortunate men who are resident on Tripletit have very long active lives and a much increased life-expectancy. Any Tripletit woman would offer a breast and breast milk to any human male in need. It has no more social meaning than a handshake might mean on Earth, except for its healing properties. The central breast gave milk that paralysed the man drinking it.

When Tripletit women leave their planet, and very few do because they are gregarious and find being separated from other Tripletit women distressing, they cannot heal every Earthman they meet. When off-planet they behave according to their current location's social customs.

But - there is a black market in Tripletit breast milk. It is rare and expensive because it has to be kept in specialist storage conditions, but some Tripletit women are willing to sell their breast milk for sums that are a fortune on Tripletit because of the favourable rate of exchange for almost any other planet's currency.

The currency imbalance is gradually changing as mining and industry begin to be established, initially to support Tripletit's own needs, reducing costly imports. Eventually Tripletit will be able to export some rare minerals and bulk minerals to nearby planetary systems, but now their major currency income is tourism, male tourists who want to experience sex with a Tripletit woman. No male tourist has ever been disappointed although a few each year used to vanish without trace when on Tripletit.

+++

Fiona thought she could become pregnant if my reaction to sex could be stopped. Wrapping and tying me hadn't worked, but if I was temporarily paralysed? That would stop the thrashing, and if the thrashing was inhibited, the delusions might not happen. She was determined to try. If it worked at the first attempt, she could milk me for my semen, get an egg or eggs artificially fertilised, and then stored until my condition improved - if it ever did.

She didn't tell me but she bought some Tripletit milk, after she had bought a special small storage machine for it. The milk has to be kept at body temperature until used, even throughout its transport. It can be taken from seller to the purchaser's home in a special thermal bag, but it couldn't be out of one of the special machines for more than half an hour.

It wasn't the milk from the left or right breasts, but from the centre breast. It was not illegal on our planet but there was official disapproval because it could be, and was, used by women as a date-rape drug. A man who had drunk milk from a Tripletit centre breast was temporarily paralysed but aware, and could be ridden to orgasm and climax as a passive partner.

The machine was in our bedroom on a chest of drawers. I hadn't taken much notice of it. I assumed it was a mini-fridge and had vaguely wondered why Fiona needed one in the bedroom.

When we went to bed that night I occupied the double bed that gives me room to move around if I have a fit. Fiona normally sleeps in a smaller bed on the other side of the bedroom, but tonight she dressed in her silk nightdress instead of functional pyjamas. I was slightly concerned that she intended us to have sex despite the consequences for me.

She opened what I thought was the mini-fridge and produced something like a plastic baby's bottle apparently with a few ounces of formula milk in it.

"Adrian," Fiona said, "Please drink this. It is something I think you should try."

I trust my wife Fiona. I reached for the bottle. The spout was more like that for bottled water. The few ounces of warm liquid went down my throat in seconds. It had an unusual but pleasant taste.

I wanted to say "What is it?". The bottle fell from my hand to the floor. My arm dropped to the bed.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I was anchored to the bed as if I had been glued to it. I heard Fiona pick up the bottle and put it back in the mini-fridge. I could only see Fiona when she was directly above my face. I couldn't even turn my eyes. When her head moved out of my sight all I could see was our very high ceiling.

I felt her pull the bedclothes off me and strip my lower half. I could feel her hands touching me but I couldn't respond at all. My prick could and did. I had an erection and without the thrashing fit or the delusions. Fiona gently fitted a condom. I felt her fingers but couldn't react. My erection was all I had, my whole being seemed to be concentrated in it. Fiona grasped it gently and fed it into her warm pussy.

Slowly she began to ride me. Her hands opened my pyjama jacket and stroked my chest. I could feel her delicate touching but the sensations of being held inside her were far stronger. I was completely helpless and her victim. If she had been a stranger, she would have been raping me. But Fiona was no stranger. She is my loving and caring wife and I had wanted sex with her ever since I went on that disastrous trip to Xenon-6.

Now we were having sex, even if I was a passive partner. I enjoyed being passive. I had no sense of impending disaster, or of an imminent fit, or even an approaching brainstorm of delirium. I would have liked to look at Fiona, to see her in action. I couldn't. All I saw was a lock of blonde hair lashing about or the top of her head appearing and disappearing from my fixed viewpoint.

I had no control of my erection. I would come when it was ready. I couldn't hold back nor excite myself. Fiona shuddered into orgasm again and again before I came into her. She slumped across me, exhausted by her frantic efforts. Still paralysed, I went to sleep with her head on my shoulder and her arm across my chest.

I woke in the middle of the night. I could move again but Fiona was no longer beside me. Carefully I tested my limbs. They worked and there was no sign of the lack of control that had followed attempts at sex before tonight. Even after the fits had passed, my limbs had been difficult to move with any precision. This time they felt normal, as normal as if I hadn't had a fit for days. Whatever Fiona had given me to drink, there were no after-effects.

Over breakfast Fiona told me that I had drunk Tripletit breast milk from a centre breast.

"Tripletit?" I asked. "Isn't that the planet where the women are giantesses with three breasts?"

"Yes, Adrian. I researched it online. Centre breast milk from Tripletit paralyses men with no after-effects. It worked last night, didn't it?"

"Yes, Fiona, but where did you get it? Tripletit is almost mythical because it is so far away."

"It wasn't easy, nor cheap, Adrian, but it thought it was worth trying if I could find some."

"Where did you get it?"

"I had to go to the Red Light district downtown. I actually got to speak to a Tripletit woman, Eunice. If I had been a man I don't think I could have, without paying a massive sum for sex. She was very unhappy. I'm not surprised. The building isn't made for her. She has to walk around almost bent double. Eunice could stand up in our house. I almost thought of asking her to visit us. I didn't. The men and women around her were people I don't want near us."

"It doesn't sound as if you ought to go back, Fiona. People you don't want near us after dealing with your social work clients must be seriously worrying."

"My clients? Even the wife-beaters were more pathetic than threatening. Those people around Eunice were more like feral predators. They worried me."

"Are you sure Eunice was there willingly?" I asked.

"No. I'm not. Our conversation was cut short. One of the women said that Eunice had another customer waiting. I don't think there was. I hadn't seen anyone else in the waiting room. Eunice did say something important. Breast milk from a Tripletit woman's left or right breast can cure illnesses, possibly including the virus from Xenon 6, but hers can't at the moment. I'm not surprised. Although she is a massive woman she looked skinny, almost anorexic. I was afraid that the milk from her central breast wouldn't work either."

"I think you ought to tell the Police about Eunice. It looks as if she is a sex slave. There have been a few raids of the red light district this year that have found off-planet women held as unwilling prostitutes. A woman from Tripletit would be a very expensive novelty for some men."

"You think I should, Adrian?"

I thought for a few seconds.

"Yes, Fiona. You know you should. Even if the Police do nothing except make enquiries, you might have helped Eunice. She's helped us, even if you had to pay for her milk."

Fiona and I went to the Police station an hour later. Although the red light area is some way from our district, they were very interested. They asked us to wait while they contacted their town centre colleagues to see if anything was known about the address Fiona had visited. She gave the Police downloaded pictures from her phone that she had taken of the outside of the building and a couple of secretive ones of Eunice. I looked at the pictures of Eunice. She looked uncomfortable, doubled up when standing, and sitting on a bed far too small for her. She also looked ill, drawn and tired, grey-faced.

Before I went to Xenon-6 Fiona had been a senior social worker. She was known to the Police as a competent and reasonable person who had a realistic view of the criminals she and they worked with. The local Police Inspector took her statement seriously once it had been recorded in writing and signed. The town centre Police station responded within minutes. They had suspicions about the address but no firm evidence.

Fiona's statement would be enough for the Police to act. The town centre Police would welcome their colleagues' assistance but what should be done with Eunice? They had checked her status. She was on a legal visa and had been working for a company that had gone bankrupt. She was waiting for a redundancy payment but until that was sorted out apparently she had no source of income. Her presence in that building looked suspicious. Neither Police station had accommodation suitable for a giant Tripletit woman.

"But we have," Fiona blurted. "Our house has large enough ceilings. We even have a double bed big enough for Eunice."

I was startled. Did we want a strange giantess in our house? But if Fiona wanted to help Eunice I wouldn't object.

+++

We have a large van as our normal transport. It has a foam mattress across the whole load area. When I am stressed and likely to have a fit I climb into a sleeping bag. Fiona straps it down to the mattress. I can thrash around without injuring myself or distracting her from her driving. It would be large enough to carry a Tripletit woman if I was sitting up front in the passenger seat.

The Police raid went perfectly. They surrounded the building before smashing through the front door. As well as Eunice they found six women locked into bedrooms. All seven showed signs of being drugged into apathetic slaves. Two men and two women were arrested for running a brothel, for multiple kidnapping and drug dealing. The six captive women were taken to a hostel run by a women's refuge and the probation services. They would be asked to make statements when the drugs were out of their system. Until then they would be in a safe environment.

Fiona persuaded Eunice to get into our van. Eunice wasn't functioning properly. Despite her size she looked almost anorexic, her face sunken, her eyes dull, and she seemed hopelessly depressed. Eunice settled down on the mattress as if all she wanted to do was sleep. The police handed us a black plastic sack of Eunice's clothes from her bedroom cell.

At our house Fiona and I had to support Eunice to stagger through our front door and into the kitchen. Against one wall we had a large vintage settee, long enough for us to stretch out on. Fiona could sit on it with her knees raised but the back rest was high enough to support her. We had intended to offer Eunice coffee but since seeing her Fiona had decided that soup and bread might be better. She made three times as much soup as would be enough for the two of us. I had to feed Eunice the first dozen or so spoonfuls before she was aware enough to feed herself. I thought we might need professional medical assistance. I suggested it to Fiona.

"No, Adrian, thank you," Eunice said in a faint and weary voice. "Tripletit women don't need doctors. What I need is food, rest and for the drugs to pass out of my system. With all three I can heal myself - eventually."

Fiona and I began to feel that we were living the children's book The Tiger Who Came To Tea as Eunice ate, and ate, and ate. She had been starving for months. I was worried that her body wouldn't cope with so much food after so long with too little. Eunice reassured us. Tripletit women can starve for weeks and binge eat with no ill-effects. What they couldn't do was starve for several months while being forced to take drugs. The eating would replenish her body and help to counteract the drugs. Sleeping would help the process.

Late afternoon we showed Eunice upstairs to the spare bedroom with the enormous bed she was more in control of her legs. We couldn't have carried her upstairs. The bedroom had an en-suite shower room with toilet. Neither was really large enough for Eunice but there was enough room around them for Eunice to use them. We left her to clean herself up and go to bed.

Back down in the kitchen I asked:

"Are we sure we're doing the right thing for Eunice, Fiona?"

"I don't know, Adrian, but she couldn't have gone to the hostel. The ceilings are low even for modern buildings. At least she can stand up here."

"And eat," I added.

"Yes, and eat. I didn't expect her to eat that much but it doesn't matter. We can afford food for Eunice. I'll go on line and order a food delivery this evening."

"What are we going to do with Eunice?"

"Feed her, let her rest and recover, and then? It's up to her. Whatever she wants to do. That will probably be to go back to Tripletit. Until then? I'd like her advice."

"Her advice? About what?"

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