Milk In The Stardust

      Most living on Danicus station struggled to occupy living spaces barely the size of a typical broom closet, but that wasn’t the case for Skye Kimble. Overlooking the interior guts of the former science orbital station, she had a good view of the plumes of smoke pouring forth from the manufactories which littered the hollowed out core. Hundreds of factories were busy smelting ores which were delivered from the surface of the world below in continuous intervals. 

      For over a mile Skye could see layers of precincts, and makeshift buildings lazily constructed over one another. Like an insect hive, the layers of newly renovated towers were built on top the rusting left overs of previous generations. It wasn’t uncommon for a hab block to collapse, or for an entire section to cave in on its own brittle bones. 

      Only the smeltery’s endured, built into the very roots of the original high-science framework, and from a great distance they appeared like solid blocks of warm steel spewing tridents of smoke into the air. That smoke would be vented, and used to stir the stations ancient turbines. While not nearly as efficient as they used to be, they produced a small amount of renewable energy. It’s toxic by-products, however, were barely worth the cost.

      According to the newsfeeds, acidic smog was likely to accumulate by late afternoon, and everyone was advised to apply additional purifier solutions to their drinking water. Rodents were also becoming a nuisance, and were likely the source for new bacterial infections. The worst news involved a brutal punitive action that happened late last night. Station enforcers had to put down a riot in the lower levels with extreme prejudice, and more violence were likely to occur because of it. It was after that announcement when Skye turned both the radio and vid monitor feeds off, savoring the noise coming from outside instead.

      Skye’s room was spacious by any void stations standards, and she had earned it shortly after coming of age. As soon as she was old enough, Skye put her body on the market at the infamous Viper Den. She was surprised at the bidding war over her virgin body, and their feverish desire to soil her innocence. In the end it was a gang who purchased her for some twenty thousand clits. That amount seemed absurd, but she wasn’t going to argue. 

      She could still remember walking off the stage, her stomach in a knot, and her heart throbbing with anticipation. There was a little anxiety about having her body ravished by so many at once. Would it hurt? She doubted they would be gentle. Then again, Skye hoped they wouldn’t be. 

      As she walked off the stage to be met with some dozen men and women who had contributed to her purchase, they offered an additional five thousand clits if she were willing to stay with them, not for one night, but for the entire week. A lump caught in her throat from the sudden suggestion. To this day Skye had no idea why she accepted the offer so quickly. It was perhaps the first time she let go, and submitted to her instincts. It was also the first time Skye felt like there was something wrong with her, for she didn’t even consider negotiating the price.

      During that time spent with them, Skye wasn’t given a single moment of rest. Her body was used unceremoniously by the posse of gangsters who were eager to share their carnal appetites with a woman of the Voluptas sub-species. The leader claimed her virginity in broad daylight, in front of an open balcony so that anyone from the street level could watch. A spear of pain burned in her groin, but it passed surprisingly quickly to make way for euphoric pleasure.

      He practically roared like an animal when he shot his full load of scorching hot seed into her very womb, and then had her bound forward so that her breasts hanged freely in the air. Her lactating nipples spilled her motherly sustenance to a small crowd below as his second in command claimed her next, accepting his sloppy seconds with relish. Her fertile cove, already wet with semen, made it easy for him to slip inside, and explore the depths of her warmth. She could hardly walk when it was over, and yet she still had an entire gang to satisfy, and the day had only just begun. 

      By the time the week was finally done, there was no doubt in Skye’s mind that she had to be pregnant. Thus, her first stop after receiving a bag full of clits was a clinic on the upper levels. There she spent five thousand clits to pump her body full of antibiotics, and safely transfer the newly fertilized egg from her womb to that of a synthetic equivalent.

     The transfer was successful, and Skye was thankful for the technology that both prohibited sexually transmitted disease, and eased the trials of pregnancy. She would come to regret putting her faith in science shortly afterward.  

      It pained her, like a knife to the heart, when three weeks later she got the news that her child didn’t take to the synthetic womb, leading to a miscarriage. Skye cried for days, blaming herself, and her own selfishness for her infants demise. Had she only let things develop naturally things might’ve been different?

      Putting those memories aside, Skye leaned forward on the banister. It cost twelve thousand clits to purchase this living space, and provide her aging birth mother with some measure of comfort in the elderly facilities. The rest she spent on frivolous things, including the comfort clothing she liked to wear. 

      Skye only ever returned to the Viper Den when she was low on clits. So far she had been there twice this yearly cycle. The first time she sold herself for five thousand clits to a woman who wanted to use her for some…unsavory practices. The second was a bit more profitable, and Skye was happy to pocket some nine thousand clits to a station enforcer, who likely acquired the funds through bribery, or some other form of corruption. Never had she met a man so obsessed with feet, even more so than her plump breasts, but she accommodated him gently.

      Her funds were starting to run low again, and her protection dues were coming up soon. Skye was already weighing the option of putting herself on display again at the Viper Den, even though now wasn’t a good time. If some gang purchased her, they would breed her like a good little street whore, and her womb was ripe for insemination. It was a risk, a dreadful one, but it was better than not being able to pay her protection fees. At least at the Viper Den there were standards. There was no telling what the hoodlums would do if she couldn’t pay them their monthly fees.

      At times like this, all alone in her apartment, Skye preferred to be naked. Her nipples were hard enough to cut through glass, and her sensitive skin tingled from the recycled air. Instead she wore a cream colored gown made up of cashmere and latex, and it was thin and breathable for her naked skin underneath.

      Comfort wear wasn’t easy to find on the station, and when it was available it was exorbitantly expensive, but after earning quite the purse from her time at the Viper Den, Skye had acquired some pleasing ensembles. She hardly ever wore undergarments, finding them annoying to her tender flesh. At times she wore a brazier for her upper breasts, if only to keep them from getting too soft, and losing their shape. Thankfully, her curves were healthy and well formed, just like her mothers. As for the one who sired her…Skye wondered if the rumors were true.

      A dainty collection of cashmere sweaters, and synth jeans decorated her closets, along with leather bodices and other sensual garments. See-through material was her favorite, especially the spandex body-suits that exposed her arms and legs. There was some plastic jewelry contained in a separate cabinet, it was only a couple of small trinkets to match some of her outfits. Silver and Gold were commodities that were avoided, for they garnered too much attention on the street, making room for lesser quality minerals.  

      But there was one thing all women were required to wear if they didn’t want to be assaulted in the streets. It was a sort of badge of protection. Those who married into law enforcement were afforded the luxury. Gangs copied the tradition by crafting badges of their own, reserved for their favorite whores. Unlike the badges from authority, however, gangs typically used trinkets or even tattoo’s to symbolize the protection.

      The pearl dangling from a brass chain that linked to a nipple clamp was one such badge given to Skye by the Mammoth Sliders Guild. Mostly made up of ore smelters from the refinery’s, the Mammoth Sliders were a particularly hardy breed of street thugs. Mainly composed of men from the Fascinum genome, they were especially fond of potential concubines to increase their numbers. 

      The token of protection was giving to her by one of their members, on the condition that she comfort him on a regular basis. He lost his lower body in some kind of tragic work related accident, but just because he didn’t have a meat stick anymore didn’t mean he didn’t have any needs. In time he promised he would get some kind of prosthetic replacement that would rock her world. Being able to enjoy her soft skin on his face, and cuddling with him throughout the night, was a small joy in between work shifts. 

      At least with the pearl dangling from an exposed breast, no one would dare try to molest her…not unless they wanted to lose a hand or foot. The Mammoth Sliders punished such transgressors particularly badly, and so far Skye hadn’t had a problem…not unless she wanted one. Letting the pearl tug at her nub was also better than having to carry a gun around. For some reason her hands always itched at the thought of gripping one.

      After clamping the pearly chain in place, Skye adorned herself in a silk frock that covered most of her torso, but left her right breast fully exposed. A pencil thin thong accompanied the gown, and Skye took a moment to apply some makeup after finding her heels. Her dark black hair, and almond colored eyes reminded Skye of her mother. Her latte colored skin as well, but her sharp cheek bones, narrow chin, and tall frame had not. 

      Once properly prepared, Skye submitted a notice to the Viper Den that she would be in attendance, not as a buyer but a seller. Within seconds her proposal was accepted, and a follow-up message confirmed that the staff was happy, and ready to receive her. Refreshments would be provided, along with other forms of entertainment if she wished, until curtain call. 

      Had Skye known who would be there to purchase her that night, she probably wouldn’t have come. Then again, had she known, she might’ve put on something even more lucrative to garner more clits.