CHAPTER TWENTY
Espering strode into his wife's dressing room, rubbing the sleep out of
his eyes and yawning. It had been a mistake even trying to go back to sleep
after being up all night tracking down and then interrogating that spacer. He'd
swallowed a Zip! when he'd climbed out of bed, but the stimulant hadn't started
working yet.
Lucia was in the shower, he could hear the roar of the nozzles inside
the stall, even though the stall was around a corner and ten meters away. The
dressing room connected to his wife's bedroom via a short, wide hallway. He
could see a lump under the tousled bedcovers, but just who or what was making
the lump he hadn't a clue.
With a sigh he sank into one of the overstuffed, faux antique chairs
dotted around the room. The place was ridiculously huge for a dressing room.
There was space for half a dozen chairs, a loveseat, a couch, a massage table,
and two P-pods, not to mention the dozen or so wardrobes and bureaus in addition
to the built-in closets that lined two walls.
With bleary eyes he looked around, unconsciously registering the custom
touches rendered here and there at the behest of his wife. The custom moldings
at the corners of the ceiling, the handwoven rug, the handmixed tints used to
color the walls. Also, both end-tables featured built-in lube dispensers, and a
greasy-looking blue buzzball the size of his fist sat silent on the faux-wood
surface near his elbow, in a shallow dish to keep it from rolling away. There
were mirrors all over, some retractable, some fixed. Looking into one told him
what he already knew. He was tired.
"So what's my schedule like this morning?"
Mika, his personal assistant who had been hovering around him ever since
he'd climbed out of bed, moved to his side and looked down at her ever-present
notepad.
"At half past eight you have a conference call with the Council. You'll
be talking with the trade representatives of Bella Orange."
"Right. They've got cheap produce, and have a shortage of bio-tech
components."
"In a nutshell. I'll have a summary of everyone's position on this for
you to look at before we hook in. At nine-thirty you're talking to Mayor
Alhouri about the parade. I believe he's come up with a few new ideas, and
would like some input."
"And more money, I'm sure." Garvin shook his head. "Nothing like
waiting until the last minute." He glanced up at Mika, saw her typing notes to
herself on the pad. She'd been with him for eight years, and still was the
youngest person on his full-time staff. A tiny little thing with glossy black
hair, she always wore severe black suits with ankle-length skirts, so tight she
could only take tiny little steps. Her legs were already so short he always had
to consciously slow down whenever they had to do some walking. She was as
organized as a computer and completely professional -- in eight years she'd
never once discussed her personal life with him. He'd had her investigated, of
course, but his men had come up with little of interest. When she was twenty
she'd applied - with her parent's blessing -- to the Sisterhood, and been
accepted into their demanding yearlong preliminary training program that was
infamous on Monsipur for its high failure rate. Very few of the women who
actually completed that first year failed to make it to the point where they
were asked to take their vows, but there were a few.
For all his spies and power, Espering hardly knew anything about what
the novices learned in their years of training before becoming Sisters; even
those women rejected by the Sisters of Mercy didn't talk about what they'd seen
and done inside the convent walls. Mika had lasted nearly three years before
being asked to leave or quitting, he still didn't know which-the Sisters kept
their secrets as closely guarded as any intelligence agency he'd ever heard of.
His people had been trying to penetrate the Sisterhood for decades now, with
almost nothing to show for their efforts, which he found very disturbing.
From there Mika'd gone directly to business school and to work for GUP
Inc., where in short order she'd distinguished herself enough to attract
attention. She was at Espering's beck and call fifteen hours a day, which
didn't leave a lot of time for a personal life. Mika, however, apparently had
no use for free time and seemed glued to his elbow day and night. Her
professional facade never wavered. The only truly personal information Espering
knew about her he'd had to learn by planting vidbugs in her quarters at his
house and the apartment she kept downtown. She practiced isometric Yoga to stay
in shape - the traditional style, without clothing - and masturbated religiously
every night before falling asleep. Sometimes she masturbated while doing her
exercises, and those sessions sometimes went on for hours.
"Is that meeting in person?"
"No. Vid. At ten o'clock you have a meeting with Gupink's general
accounting staff. This is to begin review of the financial records for this
fiscal year. That should take you right into lunch, which you're having at
Kyobi Grillhouse with Armin Fermier, Director of the Garshak Water Department.
I have no information as to what the meeting is about, I don't think you've
mentioned it to me." She pursed her lips and gave him a studied look.
Some things I keep secret from even you, he thought, glancing up at
Mika. "That's enough for now, krikes, I'm already tired," he told her. He
slouched further in the chair, the informal tongi he wore as pajamas wrapped
sloppily around him.
"Good morning Mr. Espering." He looked past Mika to see his wife's
personal staff filing into her quarters. One of Mika's eyebrows went up and she
nodded almost imperceptibly.
Roc, his wife's masseuse, was a pleasant fellow with almost nothing
going on between his ears. He smiled at Garvin and stood in the corner, waiting
until Lucia needed his services. Annika was his wife's classically trained
chapra, a cheerful lady in her late fifties. She was Lucia's full-time fashion
and diet consultant, helped Lucia pick out what to wear to important social
events, and helped her get ready every morning so as to look her best. She was
a genius with cosmetics, both temporary and permanent, and was always impeccably
dressed no matter the time of day. This morning she'd arrived poured into a
form-fitting burgundy business suit. The tight slacks showed off her
heart-shaped bottom, and the blazer, under which she seemed to be wearing
nothing at all (undergarments would have ruined its lines), was so low cut her
big jiggly breasts looked ready to spill out the front. She'd had her front end
recently redone, he was pretty sure, but Garvin couldn't imagine her ever having
sex; he doubted she'd ever approve of anything that would muss her hair or
wrinkle her clothes.
Lucia's two assistants in their matching suits arrived last. Today it
was a dark charcoal doublebreasted they each sported. They were an odd pair,
but there was no denying that his wife liked them. The blonde, boyish woman
with the athletic body was called Bil. If that was short for something he'd
never heard her full name. Her ambisexual partner liked to be called Furta,
which of course was a joke. For the life of him Garvin couldn't remember if the
Mergendered half of the duo had originally been male or female. Not that it
mattered, but the fact that he couldn't remember bothered him. Now she was both
sexes, or neither, as some activists looking for special dispensation argued.
Even without the ridiculous assumed name it was obvious to him she spent far too
much of her free time thinking about her own genitalia. If someone voluntarily
took the drug to change sex enough times to end up somewhere inbetween male and
female, that was their business. The government, as far as he was concerned
(and on Monsipur, he was the government) was not obligated to treat them like an
entirely new sex. It was just another method of drawing attention to
themselves. And attention was just what they had to be after, switching sex
back and forth so many times. It wasn't as if they couldn't have their DNA
cleaned up so they looked normal above and below the waist. They just wanted to
be different.
"We need to go to Antonelli's today," Lucia announced to Annika,
striding into the room. "I just won't be able to relax until I have all my
outfits picked out for LandFall, and the colors never look quite the same over
the vid."
The 400th anniversary of the first landing of permanent settlers on
Monsipur was just days away. There was going to be a huge parade, in which he
and the rest of the Council and spouses would participate. Afterwards he'd make
a speech in front of City Hall which would be broadcast worldwide. That
afternoon the streets around City Hall would be blocked to all vehicular traffic
for the annual LandFall party, a big event all visiting dignitaries were invited
to. The party would go all night, but most of the Council would disappear so as
not to miss another, more notable LandFall event -- the private party at
Espering's estate. The Esperings had been hosting LandFall parties for
centuries, and they'd become legendary. This year's party promised to exceed
all expectations, according to Lucia, who'd been planning and organizing for
months.
Nude and freshly dried from the shower vents, Lucia put her hands on her
hips and surveyed the outfits Annika had laid out for her across the loveseat.
She was so hollowed out by the PCA that the uninformed, upon seeing her sunken
abdomen, might think her deathly ill. Her hipbones and ribs protruded sharply,
while the flesh of her stomach hung slack in a concave bowl. Her bulging mound
seemed big as a forehead. Garvin still wasn't used to the sight and found it
quite disconcerting, and was glad the danger of insufflation forced his wife to
wear corsets all the time. He'd really grown to like the exaggerated hourglass
figure they gave her.
"Do you have time for a massage today, Mrs. E?" Roc asked her. His
forearms were thick with corded muscle.
"A quick one I think," she said distractedly. She lay down on the
padded massage table which was custom-made with a large bulge in the center
which conformed to the contours of her unusual torso. As Roc began working her
back she barked out instructions to her two assistants.
"When did you want to go to Antonellis?" Annika asked, rummaging through
the closets, looking for shoes that would look good with the dress Lucia had
picked. She would hit a button and the clothes racks would rotate. She'd study
the dozen or so shoes on display, shake her head, then hit the button again.
How many hundreds of pairs his wife had Garvin didn't even want to guess.
Espering noticed some movement on Lucia's bed, and a nude squeaker with
sleep-tousled hair emerged halfway from beneath the billowy comforter. He
thought this one was female, but it was so hard to tell. She lay on her back,
visible from the waist up, not moving, although he could see her abdomen moving
up and down as she breathed.
"At eleven o'clock you've got a meeting with the MEW executive
committee," Bil reminded her. Monsipur's Empowered Women was an advocacy group
started by retired pulatritas whose original purpose had been to ensure good
wages for those in the business. Through the years it had broadened its
horizons and attracted the interest of bored socialites who were looking for
ways to spend their time and money in ways that would make them feel useful to
society. MEW still lobbied for equitable, standardized pay rates for
pulatritas, but now it preached tolerance for those of ambiguous gender or
non-standard sexuality, fought for legalization of consensual sex between humans
and Danes (once considered a long shot, but no more), and advocated the use of
synthetics in public school sex education classes to ensure a well-rounded
competency in the art of love. Lucia was on the Board of Directors, but this
wasn't a formal meeting of the entire Board and would hopefully be brief.
"At three o'clock you've got the awards ceremony at the Board of
Education at City Hall. The little boys and girls will be singing two or three
songs before they present you with the award, but you should be back here by
five.
"And at seven and a half," Furta said in hir soft, sultry voice, "you
said you wanted to go to the TKX initiation ceremonies." TKX was the largest
sorority on Monsipur. Being a lackey Lucia had never attended a university,
but she'd had a few friends in her youth that had been members. "You were
invited last year but couldn't attend. They're dahlias," the aide told her, in
case she'd forgotten.
"Aren't most sororities?" Lucia laughed. She groaned as Roc vigorously
kneaded her right buttock and quadricep. "You are so much better than that
synthetic I used to use," she told him. He smiled proudly and worked her flesh
even harder.
"The initiation supposedly drags on for over two days," the aide went
on, "but the HouseMother said that the first three or four hours are usually the
most enjoyable."
"She's right," Bil spoke up. The blonde assistant smiled at the memory.
"I remember when I went through the initiation. We were all so bubbly at first
we hardly needed the Jack, but after five or six hours that was the only thing
keeping us going. The seniors were just relentless. Its an endurance test as
much as anything. I was sore for days."
"Well, then, I think just after lunch should be good," Lucia told
Annika. "Mario'll make time for me even if he's busy."
"How many outfits do you need?" Garvin asked his wife, glancing over at
the huge closets lining one wall.
"At least three. One for the parade, which has to look good on vid,
because it'll be broadcast. One for the formal ball that I can move around in,
and a third for our party. Something sexy that I won't have to take off before
I can play."
"Couldn't you wear the same outfit to the parade and ball?"
"I could, but what fun would that be?"
"My mistake," he said drily. He directed a question at Bil. "Is TKX
the sorority that got in trouble for using Danes in their initiation?"
"No, that was another one. No penises allowed at TKX, not even
plug-ins."
Movement caught his eye, and Espering glanced back at Lucia's bed. The
squeaker was squirming, and something under the mounded comforter was moving as
well. The comforter began to slide down her body, off the side of the bed.
First her lower body was revealed, her tiny knees up and spread apart, then the
Dane whose head was between her legs became visible. Next to her the animal
looked huge. It lay quietly on the bed, but from the way its head was moving
Espering could tell it was licking the squeaker with great intensity. Its
efforts had her breathing faster.
"Mrs. Espering," Annika said with a frown, "tell me how you think this
sounds. For the parade, a somewhat light, informal number, light blue I think,
with a pleated knee length skirt that'll blow around a bit and show off your
legs, tied to one of your push-up corsets. Hair up and perhaps curled. For the
official party, we'll start with that low profile corset you have that you never
wear because of the color, the one that's almost too small? We'll dip-suit you,
put about six coats on the corset. It's so smooth on the outside, with six
coats hardly anyone will be able to tell you're wearing it, and the little extra
compression when the Plastex dries won't hurt. You can put on a pair of those
heeled platforms and with six coats they'll never come loose. For the rest of
your body two coats, I'm thinking electric orange with a blue swirl. Two coats
won't split accidentally, but still is nice and thin. It'll give you definition
and be warm to the touch."
"Full body?" Lucia asked, intrigued. Lucia flipped over onto her back
and Roc, after deflating the table's center bulge so her spine wasn't curved
uncomfortably, started in on her thighs. Garvin marveled at how sunken his
wife's waist was. With the ribs she'd had removed at the bottom of her ribcage
in an effort to reduce the constant insufflation, a hands width of her stomach
lay nearly flat against her spine, perhaps only two inches off the table's
padded surface. Her pubic mound towered above her sunken waist. Garvin knew
that if she tensed her stomach muscles, which ran from her pelvis to her ribs,
she'd suck huge amounts of air into her body, which was why she was almost never
without one of her corsets.
Annika nodded. "I think maybe your hair as well. I see it slicked
back, perhaps a different color. And if he takes his time after every coat to
make sure you're not sealed up he won't have to slit you open later. It'll be
much more convenient for you, and no one will even be able to tell unless you
bend over."
Lucia nodded enthusiastically. "Mario is a genius with dip," she
agreed. "He's even got a portable tank in case there's something wrong with
ours. Then for our party, another coat of dip, this time a different color, and
I want him to do my face as well. Just one coat'll be enough-three coats is
about the most my nipples'll be able to feel anything through. Now," she
changed gears, " the menu is all finalized for our party, correct?"
"Yes," Bil told her. "I've checked, and nothing we're serving will be
objectionable to the offworlders you've invited."
"I should hope not," Lucia scoffed. "Else they wouldn't have made the
list."
"They're not coming for the food," Garvin said with a bit of
exasperation. "I doubt one of our guests from last year's party could even tell
you what they ate here, if they ate anything."
"You're limiting this to food, right?" Furta said with a twinkle in hir
eye.
"That may be, but I still want this to be perfect," Lucia responded.
"Let's talk about the entertainment. We've invited almost two hundred people
this year. About half professional types, businesspeople and fellow
politicians. The rest are entertainers, celebrities, including quite a few club
performers that have attracted attention. Some we've invited to perform, and
then stay as our guests, others who were just invited as guests but will
probably perform anyway once they get enough Jack in their system." It was an
open secret to regular attendees of the Espering's parties that all the food and
drink was liberally laced with X-Cite-R. "Not counting them, there will be
almost another two hundred performers and treats walking around. Most I've
selected personally. Males, females, cocktails, mergenders, and morphs of
varying extremity. The Menagerie's going to have a very dull roster the night
of our party. The guest list also includes a number of squeakers, lackeys, even
a few Sisters of Mercy to round out the affair.
"Fernando the dip-artist will be bringing several of his works. Some
will be stationary, twenty coats or so, some will be walking around showing off.
I've personally scheduled at least half a dozen special performances throughout
the party, and I know there will be many more impromptu, there always are.
Didn't you have something planned as well?" she asked her husband.
"Yes, in the rock garden."
"What is it?"
"Just a little bit of theater people will find entertaining." A small
smile curved his lips. It wasn't like him to be so vague, and Mika raised an
eyebrow.
The squeaker on Lucia's bed sat up, and the Dane stopped licking and
raised its head, cocking it to one side. The squeaker languidly turned onto her
hands and knees, facing away from the animal, and looked over her shoulder
expectantly. The Dane climbed to its feet, and Espering saw that its organ was
already fully aroused. He didn't know how in hell the squeaker intended to fit
that thing inside of her-it was as big around as one of her legs from knee to
ankle, and just as long. The Dane itself probably weighed twice what the
squeaker did. It took two steps and moved over her - the hair on the underside
of its chest just barely brushed the squeaker's back.
She reached back with one tiny hand and took hold of the Dane's pink and
black member. Her hand couldn't even reach all the way around it. She wedged
the organ's knobby head between her legs as the Dane stood there patiently,
unmoving.
The squeaker dropped down onto her elbows and pushed herself back
against the phallus, but only succeeded in getting another centimeter of its
length into her. That was enough for the Dane, however, which lowered its back
end and moved for the first time, hunching its back in a gentle rolling motion,
slowly pumping what little of its organ was in her back and forth. The squeaker
reached out with both hands and took hold of the animal's forelegs, pressing her
forehead to the bed. Espering watched, intrigued; he'd heard about Danes
professionally trained to have sex with humans, but he'd never seen one in
action before. With patience and slow, short, even strokes, the animal soon was
thrusting deeper into the squeaker, who was breathing hard enough to be heard in
the dressing room.
Roc had moved to Lucia's arms and was massaging her loose limbs with
singleminded intensity. Her three pairs of nipples wiggled as his kneading
fingers sent tremors through her prostrate body. Garvin's gaze was captured by
her two top breasts. Really, they were her only breasts; the other four had
shrunk down to nothing but nipples when she'd undergone the reversal therapy
after leaving the lackey program. Lately he'd found himself admiring breasts
larger than what he used to like. Like the Loomy he'd used a few nights ago in
the Nerve Center. He'd found her big doughy breasts just spectacular. He
didn't know what that meant, if anything, but Lucia's now seemed a little small
for his tastes.
"How do you feel about larger breasts?" he asked his wife. Just
thinking about it had given him the beginnings of an erection. Most of her
bodmods had been Lucia's idea. He'd made a few suggestions over the years, but
never made any demands, and so her body looked exactly the way she wanted it to.
Other than her hair color, that is. That was his, and she hadn't complained.
"Not until after LandFall," was her response. "Antonelli's has all my
measurements in their computer already, and I don't want to risk the chance
they'll input the new ones instead of the old. Mario will have enough to do."
She turned her head as she lay on the table and gave him a probing look. She
cupped her breasts in her palms. "These aren't enough for you anymore?" She
sounded amused rather than put out.
"Changing tastes, that's all. Maybe it's puberty." That got a chuckle
out of everyone.
"Your chest is a decent size right now," Annika observed, "but with your
slender build, oversize breasts would tend to make a statement. Heavies are
coming back in, you know. So is recreational lactating, but I know how you feel
about that. I'd have to change your style of dress, though, get things tighter
through the torso, to accentuate them."
Roc finished and Lucia hopped down off the table. The massage oil had
soaked into her skin, giving her a healthy glow. Lucia had definitely lost
weight, maybe that was why her breasts seemed too small. The only real drawback
to her being so skinny was that it drew attention to her oversized pelvis. It
seemed a size too big for her torso. Naturally thick women or those with high
bodyfat hardly looked any different after getting PCAs - like her friends Bunni
and Bhatia. Lucia was the exact opposite body type, and the lack of fat
pressing in on her body made insufflation a real problem.
Annika helped Lucia fasten the corset she'd picked out around her waist.
It was traditionally styled, black with demi cups that made a shelf of her
breasts just under her collarbones. The corset hooked together down her back
and was made to look vertically boned. It came halfway down her hips, and ended
in a black V that come down just to her protruding pubic bone. It also had been
custom made by Antonelli's.
With most of her torso hollowed out to form a giant sex organ, Lucia's
proportions were anything but normal. If left alone, her abdomen was a sunken,
wrinkled cave above her hips. Her thirty-four inch ribcage tapered down to a
twelve inch waist when she wore the corset, then flared out again to hug her
forty-inch hips. Her new pelvic opening-pelvic floor, the medicos called it-was
three times the size it used to be, the largest of three dimensions she'd had to
choose from. The corset followed her contours perfectly, and was as tight as
her skeletature permitted, but still Lucia had some problems with insufflation
if she bent over quickly or laid on her side for too long unless she utilized
all the corset's custom features.
Annika activated the compressed air bladder installed on the inside
front wall of the corset, just above Lucia's pubic bone. When inflated, it grew
to the size of a man's fist, pushing her loose abdominal skin down and in. The
corset, with bladder activated, was only uncomfortable for the first few
minutes, and was wonderfully effective. While she did have to urinate more
frequently (the corset's bladder severely squeezed her own), the corset did have
certain other benefits.
Still wearing nothing but the corset and a smile, Lucia sauntered across
the room to her husband slouched in the chair, swinging her hips. The
combination of her slender thighs and wide hips resulted in three inches of
daylight between the tops of her thighs where they met her body. The gap made
her unique sex seem even more prominent.
"Do you still think I'm attractive even with these small teats?" she
asked him, bending over to untie the front of his robe. Her corseted breasts
were right in his face and Garvin could smell the almond massage oil.
The robe came open, revealing his hard cock, and she bent to kiss her
husband. Lucia climbed onto the wide chair, kneeling above him. His cock was
big and bumpy with subdermal scars (for his partner's pleasure), but the PCA had
turned Lucia's slack crevice into such a gaping cavern his big organ might have
been a child's finger in comparison. The opening of her vagina was huge, a six
inch long oval hole bordered by swaying wrinkled labia. Unless she scissored
her thighs firmly together it gapped open. Without a corset on, if she lay on
her back and spread her legs, her vagina opened like a mouth. A dark oval four
inches wide would appear between her thighs. Such exposure to air would dry out
the tissues of a normal woman, but whatever team had dreamed up the PCA had been
aware of that possibility and come up with a simple solution. Increases the
amount of natural lubrication they secreted. Considering the geometric increase
(with a PCA) in the amount of vaginal walls doing that secreting, the end result
was usually women who were the opposite of dry. Lucia leaked constantly, like
bad plumbing. She didn't even notice it anymore, seeing as how she never wore
underewear.
The mouth of her sex was still cavernous, but as his length slid inside
his corseted wife her moist flesh became appropriately snug. Lucia's tunnel
loosened up again once he pushed past the constriction caused by the corset's
air bladder, but for four glorious inches she was as snug as a natural woman
around his shaft.
"I love my corsets," Lucia groaned. "They make everything feel so big."
Gripping the back of the chair she ground her big fleshy clit against Espering's
mound and growled. They kissed again, deeply and passionately, tongues
exploring. She ground against him as the kiss went on, and reached behind
herself to shove his scrotum up inside her furt's loose foyer. Now she felt
full, and with his PlayBall? mod she knew it wouldn't hurt him.
Espering looked past his wife at the activity taking place on her bed.
The Dane had lowered its hindquarters and spread its rear legs and was now
thrusting vigorously into the squeaker. Half its organ was disappearing into
her now, and her tiny body was shoved forward with each lunge of the animal's
hips. The squeaker's small cries of ecstasy grew louder and echoed around the
bedchamber as the Dane's thrusts quickened and its tail started its signature
corkscrewing. No man alive could come close to matching a Dane's speed when it
was going all out, and Espering was a little worried the animal might hurt the
squeaker with its big organ as it reached its stride and its hips began to blur.
From the sounds she was making, however, the squeaker had no complaints.
Lucia's waist was so small under the corset his fingertips overlapped.
If he squeezed hard enough he could feel it against his cock. Garvin roughly
pulled down the top of her corset to free her nipples as their staff politely
began filing out of the room to give them their privacy.
"I think that's so sweet," Bil whispered as they moved out into the big
recreation room situated between the Espering's bedrooms. "Married all these
years, and still in love."
"I hope they don't take too long or he's going to be late for his first
meeting," Mika said. The four of them stood near the open doorway and listened
to the sounds.
"Oh, let them have their fun," Annika scolded her lightheartedly. "Mrs.
Espering has been so busy the past few days what with party preparations she's
hardly had time to eat, much less relax with her husband. And you know how busy
he's been."
Annika was the first to move away from the doorway, stepping down into
the pit at the center of the room. The rest followed, wondering what she was
looking at with such curiosity. There, on one of the long curving couches, out
of sight of anyone not actually in the pit, was a sleeping woman.
"Who do you think she is?" Annika turned to the group. "Anyone seen
her before?"
"No," Furta said, pursing hir lips and cocking hir head. "She's
pretty."
"That's my little sister, Angelica," Bil announced. "She's back home to
celebrate LandFall. She's friends with Sylphie and Sylphie offered to take her
out, show her a good time."
Angelica was curled up on her side, deep asleep. She was young and
pretty, with long brown hair and lightly tanned skin. There was some slight
resemblance to her sister in Angelica's face, but the attention of the group
mostly focused on her swollen abdomen.
"When is she due?" Annika asked.
"Any day now."
"Is it her first?"
"Oh yes. She's still in school."
Angelica's condition would have been difficult to hide even if she'd
been wearing clothes. She was a small girl, with slender arms and legs, and
hugely pregnant. The fact she was nude was hardly unusual in this household,
but the amount of semen covering her body was remarkable. Half dried puddles
and shiny trails covered her face and body. Gobs and runnels crisscrossed the
tanned expanse of her belly and dotted her hips and thighs. Her short hair had
been slicked back sometime during the festivities and dried that way, and to
Bil's experienced eye it appeared semen had been the only gel used to create the
look. What she hadn't wiped into her hair she'd apparently tried to eat, as her
nose and mouth were smeared with the stuff, glazed and crusty.
Angelica's milk-swollen breasts bore signs of rough treatment, as did
her furt, exposed as she lay with her knees pulled up. Swollen with the weight
of her baby it gaped wide, leaking a thick trail of semen, as did her well-used
anus, but whoever her partners had been were nowhere to be seen. With the
increasing popularity of "product enhancement" (as it was euphemistically
called) among certain men, an unnatural quantity of semen no longer was a sign
of multiple partners. One little change in the genetic code and what formerly
was enough to fill a bellybutton became (on average) enough to overflow an open
mouth, and flavor was just as easily altered as quantity. The half-dried pools
and trails on Angelica's skin could taste natural, or be fruit or candy flavored
(those were the most popular choices). There was no way to know without taking
a lick. Her little sister had obviously been entertained by a number of men, or
at least individuals with male equipment, but whether that number was two or ten
would be difficult for Bil to guess without further evidence.
From the dressing room Bil could hear the shouts and groans of her
employers, and checked the time on her notepad. They would both be late if they
didn't hurry up. She glanced back at her sister, still sleeping undisturbed.
"I hope my sister wasn't too much for Sylphie," she said. "She can be
quite a handful."
