|Spidermilk by Konrad Hartmann|
Eddie Stover, private eye, lives in a future where artificial humans called LifeMates serve consumers as a purchasable commodity. When Stover takes a wandering daughter case, the search for the missing woman plunges him into a world of hijacked LifeMates, psychadellic milk, and a bizarre spider-worshiping cult. As the thrall of his old addictions and the enticements of the woman he promised to protect threaten to consume him, Stover is faced with the realization that he cannot escape the choice love forces him to make. (M/F, F/F)
Abigail walked into the living room of the colony house and found Sveta, a plush, white figure sitting on the plush, black couch. Sveta’s presence on the couch seemed too casual, as though Sveta pretended to not be waiting for her.
Sveta’s jade eyes smiled at her. Her platinum hair was clipped short on the sides, with the top neatly combed over to the side, down to where the silver locks brushed her cheek. Abigail thought Sveta’s white robe looked like a shroud from an old painting, like something ancient Greeks wore. The cotton draped over the chalk-white skin of her full thighs and small belly, wrapping about her heavy, swollen breasts.
“You like my,” Sveta chuckled, looking down at her garment, “Uh, toga?”
“It’s cute!” Abigail said, crossing her arms. “You look like an old painting.”
“Not sure if that’s a compliment,” Sveta said, her eyebrows twisting.
“No, I mean, like a Roman goddess.” She laughed.
“I have to get out of the sling once in a while,” Sveta said, rubbing her shoulders. “Come,” she said, patting the couch next to her.
Abigail slipped off her shoes and walked across the room, her arms still crossed and her chin low. She smoothed her blue dress and sat down next to Sveta.
“How are things?” Sveta said, turning to Abigail and cocking her head.
“Good, how?” Sveta asked. “How is Mr. Stover?”
“Already? Good girl,” Sveta said, nodding. She reached out and tucked a strand of Abigail’s hair behind the girl’s ear. Her finger trailed down to stroke Abigail’s neck.
“Mm-hm. I got lucky. His partner makes it really hard to get to him. I spent hours looking at his system. Thought I’d have more time before he hit me at ZLS. She tracks everything going in and out of there. I doubt Stover knows how much she watches. And now I’m wondering what to do about Bracco.”
“You’re so good at what you do,” Sveta said.
Abigail smiled and interlaced her fingers. Was Sveta simply going to ignore what she said about Bracco?
Sveta’s finger traced Abigail’s jaw and stopped at her chin. She tilted Abigail’s face to look at her, then leaned forward and kissed her softly.
“Thirsty?” Sveta asked, leaning back again.
“Mm. I don’t know. Kinda have to be clear tonight,” Abigail said. “What do you think about the situation with Bracco?”
“We just keep doing what we do and let him expose his weaknesses. He’s impatient. We are not. Now, it’s been a week since my last bite. It wouldn’t do much to you, if you wanted it. But I’m getting another one tomorrow,” Sveta said.
“Really?” Abigail said, examined the faded pink spot on Sveta’s arm. Nothing looked fresh. She realized Sveta saw her scanning her arms and blushed.
Sveta laughed softly.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But, just so you know, sweetie, my bites don’t swell so much anymore. This—” Sveta pointed to the spot on her arm, “if you took this bite last week, your arm would still be a balloon.
“But,” she continued. “Your milk, if you gave it, would still kick. The bite I’m getting tomorrow? I’ll pump out the first day and cut it. You know that, though.”
“Did you think about it?” Sveta asked, her voice softening, “Giving?”
“I don’t think I’m ready right now,” Abigail said, playing with the hem of her blue dress. She was very aware of Sveta staring at her, pressing silence on her.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sveta said, finally, patting Abigail’s hand. “It’s entirely up to you.”
Abigail nodded again, wondering if it really would always be up to her. But she was neither ready to become a milker, nor ready to give up the embrace now offered to her. She wasn’t sure if Sveta loved her. For now, it was enough to realize she wanted Sveta to love her. It was comfort. It was acceptance. It was the absence of pain.
Sveta unwrapped the top of her garment, allowing the enormous globes of her breasts to flow out, partially covering her upper arms. A webbing of veins underlay the skin, some of them thick enough to stand out on the surface. Sveta winced, then half-reclined onto her side.
“Oh!” Sveta said. “I’m sorry. You didn’t want to?”
“No! I do,” Abigail said, drawing her legs up under herself and turning to Sveta.
Sveta spread her legs, bent at the knees, and Abigail crawled forward between them, letting her stomach rest in Sveta’s crotch, feeling the woman’s warmth through the cotton fabric. Sveta placed a pillow in front of the breast lying on the couch, and Abigail laid her head down, letting the woman gently hold the back of her head and guiding the thick nipple to Abigail’s mouth.