Chapter 20


Chapter 20: The New Groove

My prosthetic voice squeals while my pussymouth is muffled by the hot cylinder of Bluebell's teat. Bluebell pants and moos as I smash my face into her udder, tugging and sucking and fucking the long hot six inch shaft of her bovine nipple with my altered face, greedily drinking down the hot cream that splashes into my pussy. One of my hands tugs on another teat, a milky handjob that draws out spurts of milk that splash over our bodies, while my other hand is buried in Bluebell's bovine cunt, four fingers inside her while my thumb is pressed against the hot pulsing bulb of her clit. I gasp and shudder, tense and writhe, as my facial pussy orgasms, and I feel my original cunt spasm and splash my legs with juices. Bluebell reaches down and grabs me firmly by the back of the head with her long blue fingers, grinds my face into her udder with inhuman strength. I feel her body buck like a bull and her ropey tail flail as she throws her head back and "MOOOOOOO!!!!" Her cunt clamps down hard on my fingers as she orgasms...


I'm climbing down the stairs from the bedroom, still too aware of just how much my body bounces with every step. I feel my cheeks flush and pussy lips tingle, the feeling not at all unpleasant. I reach up and touch my hair, still wet from the shower, and remind myself that now is not the time for sexy games. Today I have a schedule to keep. Stay focused Halley!

As I reach the bottom of the stairs I peek at Bluebell sitting at her kitchen table, doing some admin while the milking machine chugs away, harvesting the morning milk from her four tits and udder. I smile at her with my eyes and think about fucking her the night before. About my face pussy impaled on her teats while milk exploded in my mouth in a hot creamy rush. About the ecstatic way she moos when she comes. I blush and feel the pussy on my face start to engorge and a similar heat starts to grow in my belly. I shake my head, if I wasn't careful I'd want another encore, and there definitely wasn't time for that. And anyway I'd just had a shower and gotten all dressed up for work. I enter our small kitchen and Bluebell finally notices me, her mouth opening in a wide smile. "Good Mooo-rning", she says warmly, clearly feeling a bit blissed out from her milking. 

"Hi yourself." I wasn't quite sure what Bluebell and I had become exactly. We were definitely roommates, certainly friends, and inarguably lovers, what with all the milky kinky fucking. The entire thing felt both casual and deeply intimate all at once, but in a way that didn't fit conveniently into any of my familiar boxes. Maybe it was a Blue thing? We've never sat down and talked about it, just one thing leading to another and another thing leading to orgasms. It was nice, I was having fun and the sex was incredible; if there was one thing my new body was good for it was fucking. Did Bluebell even want a human-style relationship with me? Did I want one with her? I honestly wasn't sure. So much of my life has been in flux in the weeks since my change that I'm not sure I even know the answer. All I know is that I love Bluebell, maybe not exactly romantically, but definitely as a friend, and that the sex part is great. And honestly, all those dairy calories were a big help I was since I was still figuring out the whole food thing. 

And speaking of milk, another thing we'd become was business partners. "How are we doing for supply?"

"This one believes it will be adequate to cover our deliveries. Barely." Bluebell smiles at me, a playful edge to her expression, "No thanks to you."

"Well," I touch my facial labia with a finger tip coquettishly, "Sometimes you have to put pleasure before business."

"There is that keen nose for commercial matters that makes you the ideal partner for this venture."

I giggle, "I didn't hear you complaining last night. Or this morning."

Bluebell just blinks her big black eyes and emits an innocent "Moo." I give the cowish Blue alien a fond smile and a relatively chaste labial-peck on her head, and then I raid the kitchenette, filling a special cup with warm tea and heating up one of my protein rich breakfasts. I take my place at our little table and gently insert the vaguely phallic shaped straw of my naughty sippy cup into my face-pussy and take a tiny experimental suckle to test the temperature. Very hot tea on labia is not a nice feeling. Satisfied the tea wasn't gonna burn my cunt off, I take a long drink of the strong sweet tea, trying to focus on the taste instead of the very sexy sensations radiating through my face. I have just enough time for a quick breakfast, not a long masturbation session. I put the tea aside and pick up my protein cylinder, a long tube of chorizo flavoured meat-substitute that looks unappetizingly like an orange hotdog. But when feeding yourself involves penetration, a rubbery meat tube gets the job done. I take a moment to calm myself down, wrap my fingers around the warm protein tube and press it against the labia on my face. I wiggle the wiener around until the tip finds the sweet spot and starts to slip inside my pussy. I feel my breakfast stretch my opening and moan a little, this part inconveniently always feels good. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feel air rush past my ears. I push the protein cylinder into myself further and further, inch by inch until the tip of it bumps against the back of my throat. I see stars and my mouth pussy drools obscenely. It feels just like I've stuffed my cunt full of a sex toy. I tip my head back and swallow, my esophagus pulling the orange hotdog whole into my gizzard which will chew it up before sending it along to my stomach. I pant and clench and unclench my hands, force myself to take deep breaths and quiet the burning arousal in my body. I can't possibly have sex after every meal, no matter how fucking good it feels. I take one last calming moment and open my eyes to see Bluebell looking at me intently. "That was quite sexy."

I laugh, "Not helping!"


"Delivery!" I pull my vehicle to a stop and it folds its mechanical climbing legs, lowering itself back onto its chunky wheels. I put the bike into standby, swing myself sidesaddle, and plant my cowboy boots on the dusty ground. "Guys! Delivery!"

The backdoor to the little restaurant pops open and Sammanal pokes his head out. "Halley! How is my favourite Earthling!"

"Busy," I grumble, as I work to undo the thick nylon straps securing the large milk dewar to the cargo rack. "And I bet you use that line on all the Halleys."

Sam laughs as he comes outside. He pulls a vape out of a pocket in his stained kitchen apron and slips it between his lips. "Need help?"

"What if I said yes?"

Sam quirks an unkempt eyebrow, shrugs expressively, and takes a long drag on his vape. Sammanal is very handsome, with brick red skin, messy blue-black hair, a stubbled chin, tall and angular features, and a twinkle in his dark eyes. He is just a little bit of a dirtbag in a way that's cute instead of threatening. Sammanal blows a plume of inky smoke and winks at me. I blush, grateful that I'm wearing a holstein-print mask over my face to hide my pussy and also blushes. 

I manage to get the strap clip open, but in a way that gets my dumb cornflower blue gingham dress snagged in the mechanism. When I decided that Bluebell's Dairy Service needed a signature look for its delivery girl, I thought Earthling-style cowgirl would be perfect. Lot's of nostalgic charm that no one would understand, a playful nod to a farm aesthetic that doesn't at all translate to this planet, and most importantly I'd look totally cute in western wear. And while curvaceous sexpot Halley-24 totally pulls off the look, wearing jeans and a shirt would have been so much more practical than a kitschy dress and vest and little cowboy hat. Even a classic 1950s milkman getup would have been more functional. I growl and extricate myself from the rack. Sammanal salutes me with the tip of his glowing vape.

"You know, I would love to cook you dinner sometime." Sam says, watching my breasts as I lift the heavy milk dewar off the luggage rack, which is easier than it should be since my transformed body is nearly as strong as it is horny. 

"You just want to see what I look like under the mask," I say playfully, batting my eyes at him.

"Of course! It is very mysterious!"

"What if I'm horribly deformed?" I ask as playfully as I can. "Or just ugly."

"Tragedy is sexy." Sam shrugs, "And we can always put the mask back on."

"Sam! Stop flirting with the Earthling female and drag that disgusting cattle fluid inside before it spoils!" A toad shaped brown alien wearing a cook outfit leans out the kitchen door waving his tentacles. He makes a noise like an underwater loudspeaker that I understand as: "I ain't paying you to practice your filthy human courtship rituals."

"Hi, Mister Phrune-Kcure!" I say waving. 

"It's pronounced PhhrnnnnKcrrrnnn," the alien wumbles at me before oozing back into his kitchen and slamming the door.

Sam thumbs off his vape, smiles ruefully, and cracks his knuckles. I set down the milk dewar and he goes to lift it, stops short, and tries again more carefully. "Stars Above, Halley! How do you make carrying this look so easy?"

I smile with my eyes above the mask, "It's a mystery."


"Well Howdy, Pilgrim!" Steadfast Freya booms gayly as she lifts me the rest of the way onto the Hideaway's rooftop garden. "Ah reckon you look a might thirsty, Buckaroo!"

I roll my eyes and slip my fingers behind the earloops of my mask. "Okay, who taught you how to cowboy talk?"

"I sought Hank's counsel on the significance of your costume," Freya says with a big smile. "How did I perform? I spent all morning rehearsing."

"You nailed it, Pardner," I say as I peel my mask off my face, the fabric clinging a little to my always sticky lips. 

"Yippee-ki-yay, Motherfucker!"

I giggle, "Settle down. Where's my Mud?"

Freya crosses two of her burly arms and rests her other hands on her hips, "You could feign happiness at my company for a moment longer."

"No... coffee-stuff... now..."

"Addict!" Freya laughs and marches toward her apartment to fetch our drinks. I stand at the rooftop rail and look out over the city, enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze on my unclothed face. After a morning crammed into a stuffy and increasingly funky mask, this was deeply refreshing, even if the feeling of the sun on my facial pussy feels uncannily like that one time I went to a nude beach. I wonder if I'll ever be confident enough to go out like this in public. I shake my head, probably not any time soon. Although the whole face mask wearing thing was turning out to be a real drag. How could anyone get used to it?

I turn and see Freya returning with two steaming mugs of Mud clutched in her top hands, and a carafe and a special Halley cock-sippy lid in her other hands. She hands me my mug and lid, which I leave off for the moment, breathing in the aromatic earthy scent of the not-quite-coffee. I look over and catch Freya studying my facial labia. "You're staring again."

"I apologize, it is just that your altered face is very beautiful."

"And strange." I say rolling my eyes.

"Yes," Freya says nodding, "but many beautiful things are strange as well."

I brush my hair back with a hand and look at Freya, her strong face, her muscular vital body, those four outrageous tits packed into a tight tunic with a deep-V for top cleavage and a belly window for lower underboob, her long blonde braids hanging loose around her shoulders, and those intense blue eyes. I glance away and feel the warm tingles of arousal in my pelvis and cheeks, and think again of the kiss she gave me in my sick bed. "You really have a way of making a girl feel special."

"Imagine how much more special you shall feel when you let me consummate my lust..." Freya's look is decidedly predatory.

"Easy horndog," I say laughing. Freya sighs wistfully and takes a hearty drink of her Mud. I lift my mug up almost to my labia and blow on it, impatient for it to cool enough to drink. "Even if I were interested in hooking up, which I'm totally not admitting to, I need to sort things out with Hank before anything happens between us. I know it's not a big deal to you, but I think it would be to him, since it would be to me, y'know? I'd really like to come to the bar eventually without it being..." cringe inducingly awful in every way... "awkward." I dip my little finger into my Mud, and decide it passes the baby bottle test, and pop my special lid over the mug top. "We go over this every Shift."

"And yet every Shift you and Hank persist in evading one another."

"We Halley's are a slippery lot," I say as I lift my lidded mug up for a drink. I twist my wrist to wiggle the phallus spout of my cup into my pussymouth. I suck with my labia and guid the straw right into the sweet spot at my oral vaginal vestibule. My eyes are closed and I can feel pleasure radiating out from the rubbery shaft of my drinking spout. I moan despite myself. I tilt my head back a little and warm Mud flows into the cunt that is my mouth and down my throat. My pussymouth fills with the earthy, spicy, velvety flavour of my coffee substitute while blood pulses into my facial labia making everything engorge and tighten and get so much more sensitive. I feel pussy juices start to dribble down my chin and the smell of cunt mixes with the Mud aroma. Back on Earth drinking coffee had sometimes felt almost sexual, but this right here was pornographic. Without thinking about it my hand starts to move, pushing the cock-shaped drink spout in and out of my labia, fucking myself just a little. I groan in my throat and with my prosthesis and realize what I'm doing and stop. I pull the cup free from my mouth, a shiny thread of grool connecting my pussymouth to the mug. Freya is staring, a look of naked desire on her face. "Sorry," I say, blushing and looking away, panting. "It's um, really good Mud?"

"The way you drink your beverage is doing nothing to arrest my desires..."

I laugh a little and wipe the pussy drool off my chin,  "Not the first time I've heard that today."

Freya laughs too and gives my shoulder a hearty squeeze before turning to look out over the Mesa city with me. We sip in companionable silence for a while before Freya smiles at me and asks, "Have you found any other new lovers?"

I blush, "You are way too invested in my sex life."

"I would satisfy your needs myself, but you continue to resist my advances."

"Well, Freya the Relentless and Inquisitive, there is no one new. Just the Bluebell thing." And my Grey AI sextoy-slash-fuckbuddy. And that one night at The Grove, but Freya doesn't need to know everything.

"You must know your dalliance with Bluebell is not exclusive. Blue's only pair bond when mating."

"That doesn't mean I need to throw myself face-cunt first at the nearest pretty person I meet." 

"True." Freya says, nodding and taking a long sip of her Mud. "But I have known many Halleys, and have always found you all happiest with a romantic partner."

I take another drink of my Mud and sigh, it was annoying but Freya was probably right. As great as things were with Bluebell, I know I'd eventually need more of an Earthling-style relationship. "Yeah, well... eventually..."

"I know of many attractive males and females with whom you might have chemistry!"

I groan and toss my hat at Freya, which bounces harmlessly off a forearm raised defensively over her mug. "I'm just not ready to put myself back out there. I know you're all about getting back up on the horse, but I'm still getting used to my new face. And my new sex stuff. Okay?"

"Fine, I shall not try and 'set you up', Herdsman." Freya picks up my small cowboy hat from the ground and carefully places it on her head. "But tell me, Cowpoke, did you flirtatiously palaver with the handsome kitchen rogue again today?"



"You watch where you're going you scaly asshole!!" Fucking Reptilian maniac! Who fucking drives like this on a goat track!

I force myself to pull the bike over and calm myself down. Flotsam has like a dozen or so actually paved service roads, which mostly just go around in a circle or connect with freight furniculars, it's not like any of them go anywhere exciting. Speeding along the tarmac doesn't take you anywhere! And anyway Flotsam is lousy with flying vehicles! If you're in a hurry just fucking fly guy! "Just being an asshole for the sake of being an asshole." I sigh, at least my deliveries are almost done. Just a couple more stops and then back home to set up for tomorrow and hangout with Bluebell. I smile with my eyes and feel parts of my body warm up, I'm pretty excited to see my Blue whatever-she-is-to-me again. Which, ugh Halley, you lovesick dork! I smile even harder, feel my cheeks pull at my pussymouth; whatever, it's nice.

I settle back on my bike saddle and watch the sapients walking by. This particular road connects some major lifts with a big Human Quarter shopping and restaurant district, so there's a pretty steady stream of humans. A part of me is jealous of them and their sense of normalcy, or well, what passes for normalcy on Flotsam. Sure that girl has deer antlers and the guy she's holding hands with has an impressive moose rack, but they're clearly a cute young couple out on a date, while I'm a permanently pussy-faced clone wearing a cowboy outfit. I see families and lovers and teens and loners, and they all basically blend in together. They could be from anywhere, once you get past the superficial spacey stuff. I doubt I'll ever be able to dissolve into a crowd like that again. If I popped off my face mask every pair of eyes would look at my face, maybe in fascination or maybe disgust or maybe just to leer at me, but I'd definitely be the center of attention. Even with my face covered people are studying me, guys and some girls obviously ogling my enhanced breasts and curves. I've never been comfortable with attention, and even just these fairly casual stares are enough to make me feel anxious. I spot a little group of Red Robed figures walking in a little bubble of empty space, other folks subconsciously shying away a bit. I wonder what it must be like to be hidden like them, to be anonymized. Is being obscured better than being weird? Was having no identity better than too much of one? In my darkest moments I envied the Robed, but now I can recognize that it's not a lifestyle I'd actually want. What I want is to fit in as myself, not be erased. I reach up and touch my face through my mask, shivering a little at the sensation. Was my life even that bad right now? Really? I was deformed, sure, but I have friends and a lover, a home and a job, and compared to so many other sapients my physical challenges were totally manageable. In some ways fun even. Definitely sexy. Maybe I should just count my blessings and get on with my pussymouthed life?

I sit up straight in the saddle and wake the bike out of standby. I stretch my neck and take one last look over the crowd, searching for anyone familiar, like a client or acquaintance. Maybe Sammanal, a silly part of me thinks. Or the new Halley, a darker part whispers. My breath catches for a second, I'm nowhere near ready to meet the inevitable Halley-25. I have to assume that my cultist misadventure and subsequent transformation satisfied the Backup Respawning conditions of my Cloning Contract. Right? If this didn't send in the clone, what would? Which means it's only a matter of time until my newest clone sister is decanted in Clem's apartment, is sent to Hank for a debrief, and thrust at me as a cautionary tale about trusting the wrong versions of herself. I feel tears sting my eyes, I'm so not ready to have the living evidence that I'm broken goods show up for a pep talk. Not in the slightest. If Halley-25 could just give me a few more months to sort myself out a bit more, I'd be really really grateful. But fortunately I spy no Halleys, new or otherwise in the crowd, so I take a deep breath and kick the bike into gear.

I start to slowly trundle forward with the crowd when my Keyband chimes. "Hmm?" The New Message graphic is flashing so I stop the bike and tap it open. It's from some sort of redacted contact...

-[blocked]: if you wish to learn more about halley prime proceed to the grove and meet my representative

-Halley24: Okay? Who is this?

-[blocked]: an interested party

-[blocked]: if you wish to learn more meet my representative

-[blocked]: <wayfinding packet>

I frown and would have bitten my tongue if I still had teeth. Or a tongue. What the fuck was this about? A mysterious weirdo wants me to go to a clandestine meeting about Halley-Prime? This seems like a terrible idea. I click open the wayfinding information and see the meeting coordinates are on the grand meadow of The Grove. I check the time and see that I can make the meeting as long as I hustle to finish my deliveries. But do I even want to go to this? Meet the 'representative' of an anonymous 'interested party', which doesn't sound ominous at all. Is it even safe? I finger the smooth silver band of my Grey technology choker, I do have a guardian angel and The Grove is inside the city limits. HAL-E could be there in moments if something bad happened. Besides, the meadow was a weirdly open place to stage an ambush. So I probably didn't need to worry about safety. Did I still care what happened to Halley-Prime? That was the real question. Searching for answers hasn't worked out great for the other Halleys and so far it hasn't exactly been kind to me either. Was solving the mystery really worth risking whatever life I'd managed to carve out for myself since the cult? Shouldn't I focus on 24 instead of Prime? But then there was what The Sleeping God told me, that Halley Prime had been the true target of abduction. That she was in some way valuable. That I'm secretly special. And yeah, that did have me curious. All my life I've always been an afterthought, an outsider: an orphan, then a trailer park shut in, and now a damaged clone delivery girl. The chance to learn that I've always been important is devilishly tempting. I sigh and chew my labia together, a meeting couldn't hurt could it?

-Halley24: Okay, I'm in. Can you give me any more details? Tell me anything about yourself?


-Halley24: Hello? Hi?


-Halley24: Really?

-Halley24: Oooooh I'm so mysterious! 


-Halley24: This better not be a joke. 

Fucking mysterious strangers, I kick the bike into gear and open the throttle. The bike starts to speed along the strip of road left clear for vehicles, I have deliveries to finish and a meeting to get to. I honk my little horn at a slow moving drone resupply cart. "Oughta the way jerkass! Coming through!"


I steer the bike slowly between the Grey silver plinths and into The Grove, shivering at the sensation of the quarantine field passing through me. I'm not sure which part of it creeps me out most, that the field itself has the power to vaporize me, or the reminder I'm stepping through the safety curtain into the infectious disease ward. I drive the bike a little further and park it, remind myself The Grove is a lovely park filled with harmless sex hippies. And anyway I'm totally immune to the Funganoid. Nothing to worry about, except I guess, my shadowy meeting with the 'representative'.

I'm a little early for the rendezvous and close enough to walk, so I decide to hoof it the rest of the way. It's a nice day and there are really so few opportunities to be in nature on Flotsam. An early therapist, the one before the one I really clicked with, swore that the key to mental health was hiking. He was a flake, but on this one point he was probably onto something. I pull my mask off my face a little and suck in a deep breath of air pregnant with the smell of flowers and aphrodisiac pollen. I feel my head swim a little and pleasant tingles in my body. I'm definitely feeling the wellness. I do a quick wayfinding check and start strolling in the direction of my meeting, but I don't get more than fifteen steps closer before a green face erupts from a thicket of tall wildflowers. "Jesus!"

The green face belongs to a familiar naked green woman, curvaceous and bountiful and sporting a large erection. "Halley!" She squeals happily, scurrying over for a hug. 

I open my arms and hug her back, try but mostly fail to ignore the way her cock prods my stomach when we embrace. And the way her hands instantly glide down my back to feel up my ass. "Hi Rylnx."

Rylnx lifts her head off my shoulder and looks at me with her big dark green eyes. "Have you come to make love with me?" She asks, biting her lip, her nostrils flare as she starts to pant a little. "You should take off that awful mask."

I can feel my heart beating faster and all two and half of my pussies start to engorge. Rylnx smells amazing and The Grove's special horny magic is starting to do its thing, not that I need much of a push these days. It's extremely tempting to give in to it, blow off my dumb mystery meeting, and just fuck this gorgeous creature. I shake my head trying to clear it a bit, if I ever wanted my life to more than just a series of bizarre pornographic scenes than I had to prioritize business. "Sorry," I say with a gasp, "I'd really love to, really, but I'm supposed to meet with someone here in like ten minutes..."

Rlynx makes a whining sound and puts on an anguished pout. "But didn't we have such fun last time?" My mind flashes back to the night Bluebell and I partied in The Grove. Memories of dancing and drinking Berry Wine, singing around a bonfire after shedding our clothes, and getting high on all sorts of locally grown botanicals. The blurry image of Bluebell ending up in Halley-22's arms and slinking away into the bushes to have sex. The whirlwind of finding myself in the orgy of Dryads, touching, kissing in the way that I kiss, fumbling from person to person, until I found myself between Rlynx and that spectacular male Grove Creature, the Satyr Pantor. Of drawing them both to me, crouching on the ground between them on my hands and knees, and baring all my openings.  The sensation of Pantor, his muscular body draped over my back, his sinewy arms round my hips and waist, his inhumanly long and hard cock thrust into my glowing, boiling cunt, stretching me to the point of bursting. Rylnx in counterpoint, her almost as large green cock in my pussymouth, smooth balls against my chin, shaft shoved down my throat, her soft belly on my forehead. The glorious memory of getting fucked from both sides while the Dryad and Satyr kissed passionately above me. The almost beastial noises I made as I came again and again, until we eventually collapsed together in a contented mass. "So much fun," I say quietly.

"Wouldn't you like to have fun like that again? I'm sure we could find Pantor... maybe stage a reenactment?"

I close my eyes and think about how it felt to be between Rylnx and Pantor, of having their hard hot cocks stretching me from either side, pounding into me, satisfying all of my needs. Of Pantor's rugged male hardness and the soft feminine warmth of Rlynx, a perfect bisexual moment aided by the ecstatic high of floral aphrodisiac pollen. Just absolutely.... "ffffuuuckk..."

Rlynx leans in closer to me, breaths in my ear, "Yyessss...." She slips a finger under my face mask, takes it half off. She licks my bare facepussy with a too long green tongue, a lengthy caress that makes my knees tremble and makes me moan. "You taste divine..."

"N-no Rylnx. N-n-not right now." Rlynx lets me go, she knows the rules, no means no. She takes a step back and flops down onto her butt, her achingly hard cock sticking up like a flagpole. She looks disappointed and frustrated and a little hurt and so, so horny. My face mask hangs from my ear and my pussymouth is inflamed and shiny wet, juices dripping down my chin. I might not be the nymphomaniac host of a sexually transmitted parasitic alien lifeform, but my cheeks ache with pent up need. I'm sure Rylnx needs to fuck more than I do, but fuck me I need it too. Would it be so bad to just go for it? Just fuck her with my face a bit to get it out of our systems? I'm too revved up for a serious meeting right now anyway and it seems cruel to just rebuff her like this. And that glorious cock is right there, it would be wasteful not to enjoy it. I got here early, the meeting still isn't for a few minutes, I can make this work. "Fuck it, I've got time."

I toss my face mask to the ground, drop to my knees, and duck my head forward like I'm bobbing for cock. Rylnx blinks in surprise and shifts, and my labial lips bump awkwardly onto cock, bouncing against her glans. Rylnx giggles and then gasps when I grab her long green veiny cock with my hands and start to stroke it. I rub my pussymouth all over her glans, painting her cock with my hot juices and getting it nice and wet and slippery. Rylnx tips her head back and lets out a moan of relief. I lift my head back and take a long deep breath through my hidden nostrils, and then lower my face onto her cock, using my hands to hold her cock steady as I push it through my labia. Panting, cock firmly in my pussymouth, I twist my face looking for the sweet spot, and ahhhh finding it, I push forward and down, force Rylnx's cock into the vagina that is my throat. Pleasurable discomfort radiates through my body as I feel myself stretch. I emit a deep moaning sound and Rylnx is panting. I push and push her cock deeper into my face until I feel my labial lips press against the skin of her crotch and balls. I look up at her and only see the underside of her large green tits. "Ooooh Halley," Rlynx gasps as her  hands reach down to grab me by the back of my head. 


I stumble over the last hill in the direction of my rendezvous. I'm officially running late and I can still feel Rylnx's syrupy cum oozing out of my pussymouth and into my mask. I probably reek like sex, or at least pussy. I have grass stains on the knees of my cowgirl dress and my hair is a mess and I've somehow lost my hat. My hands feel sticky and I hope this 'representative' doesn't want a handshake. I don't think I'm about to make a very good first impression.

I crest the top of the little hill and don't see anyone waiting for me. No trench coat clad spymaster or red dress wearing femme fatale or anyone even vaguely 'representative' shaped, just an empty meadow on a sunny afternoon. Maybe I'm supposed to get their attention somehow? Do a hand signal to lure them out of hiding? I frown, my instructions told me where to go and when, and didn't include any special protocol for when I arrived. I was a little late, maybe my contact left already? I groan, I know I shouldn't have stopped for sex. Way to ruin a chance at solving the mystery you dumb slut. I place my hand on my forehead and groan again. Maybe there's a way to fix this? I could try sending another message to the 'interested party'... except their address was anonymous. "Damn it, Halley!"

I look around and see something shiny moving a few hundred feet away, closer to the trees. I squint and see it's a woman, or at least something woman shaped, and she looks to be out walking a large dog. I jog towards her, maybe she saw who I was supposed to meet and where they went? It couldn't hurt to ask. As I get closer I decide the woman looks more robotic than fleshy: she's completely covered in chrome metal styled like a retro-futuristic sexualized feminine robot. She has perfectly sculpted breasts, a slit visor instead of eyes, and sharp stiletto antenna sticking out of her ears. She reminds me of this little sexy fembot figurine Clem had, a reproduction of a larger fetishy statue by a Japanese artist. The silver robot slinks along in a gracefully rigid gait on the tips of her toes, and her dog rambles obediently along beside her. The dog looks a lot like an oversized Australian shepherd but with royal blue and purple fur, except as I get nearer I see the dog is actually a dog-girl, a canine petgirl walking on all four paws. The long fur and completely canine limbs obscure it, but I can see the doggirl has a mostly human torso lined with furless tits and that her face is mostly human aside from her big shepherdy ears, and the black-nosed muzzle of her lower face. The doggirl's shaggy tail is wagging and she has her nose pressed down to the grass. Her behavior and body language is so totally dog, that I wonder just how canine her mind has become. 

"Hi! Sorry!" I pant loudly as I catch up. The robotic woman stops, stands tall, and artfully tilts a hip, but doesn't reply. The doggirl barks happily when she sees me and her tail starts to wag even faster. She tugs on the leash and a long pink tongue hangs out of her mouth as she starts to pant. "Cute dog," I say, trying to break the ice. The visored robotic face regards me, and I notice the only other feature on her face are pursed lips embossed on the smooth steel of her face. "Can I pet your dog?" I offer my hand to the petgirl. The doggirl thrusts her nose forward and sniffs it, and deciding she likes the scent of my jib, offers me several slobbery licks. "Hi," I say to the dog, ruffling the long fur on the top of her head and ears. "I'm Halley," I say to the robot and doggirl, "what are your names?” The robot just stands patiently and the dog fidgets between trying to lick me and letting me pet her head. "You at least have to tell me the name of this cutie..." I say, pleading a little. The pettgirl rolls onto her back, paws tucked, eight breasts pooling on her chest, and I see that this doggirl is the red rocket having kind. "Sorry, pup, this belly rub is a little too intimate for a first walk." The dog whines and rolls back onto her paws and sits. "Okay my shiny friend, it was nice meeting your dog, but I actually need some help here. I was supposed to meet someone, and I'm running a little late, and I was wondering if you know where they went. I, uh, don't actually know what they look like? Or their name. But I'm looking for a... 'representative’…”

"You've found them," The doggirl says from her sit. The petgirl's entire body language is different, still and commanding, and a bemused human intelligence shines in her eyes. "You can call me Sceolàn."


"I'm your contact," The doggirl replies. "Here, take my leash and we can have our meeting while we walk. It's a beautiful day for it."

"Okay," I say limply as the femme robot precisely hands me the leash. Sceolàn stands to her paws and starts walking, dragging me along with her. "What's with the dog thing? Is this like, part of your cover?" 

Sceolàn wags her tail and makes a kind of doggy chuckling noise, "Something like that."

"That was quite the act back there, you totally had me convinced you were actually a dog. Mentally, I mean."

"It wasn't an act. When I'm in dog-mode most of my human mind shuts off, and I'm basically just a happy dog until I switch back to agent-mode."

"That... seems pretty drastic for just a cover story, no offense."

"It's fine, and honestly dog-mode is amazing. Do you know how happy dogs are? Everything is wonderful: food, pets, games, being outside. Every moment is the greatest moment and everyone in the world is either your best friend or a new friend to make. It's really a pleasant state to live in and a pretty okay tradeoff for my safety." Sceolàn pulls up for a moment to sniff at a patch of meadow flowers. "In my past life I'd gotten myself into trouble with some really bad people. I came to Flotsam to hide, and Master offered this as a solution. I could be Master's pet dog, hide in a way that no one from my past life would recognize, and work for Master as an agent still, using my canine form as a disguise." Sceolàn raises a hind leg and pees on the flowers. "By the way, keep a firm grip on the leash, okay? Sometimes I can't control when I switch into dog-mode, and I might try and bolt."

I nod and tighten my hold on the leash, "And your Master is interested in Halley-Prime."

"Yes." The petgirl nods seriously, her ears flopping with the motion.

"Why? What's in it for them?"

"My Master is an infobroker, one who's had previous dealings with Halley-Prime. Master doesn't like leaving puzzles unfinished, and is, let's say, vexed by Prime's disappearance. Discovering where Halley-Prime has gone has become something of a hobby for my Master. An impudent pup might even say it's an obsession." Sceolàn stops and raises a paw to scratch an ear. 

"And where do I fit into this?"

"Our Network has uncovered a promising lead, but one that needs a Halley to sort out. One of your sisters...." Sceolàn looks up suddenly towards a nearby copse of trees and barks. She lunges forward dragging on the leash, still barking. I hold onto the leash and almost lose my grip. The doggirl raises up on her hind legs, pulling as hard as she can, still barking her head off. I see a little hopping creature, something between a toad and a lizard, but moving more like a bunny in the grass. Some sort of critter that Sceolàn spotted and desperately wants to chase. "No! Bad dog! Heel!" I feel ridiculous, we were just having a conversation! "Sceolàn, Heel!" I manage to drag her sideways, and she comes along, looking a bit guilty. "You weren't joking on the dog-mode switch..." Sceolàn just stares up at me, her eyes flat and loving and totally canine. "Still a dog, eh?" I sigh and pick a direction to walk and Sceolàn happily falls into stride beside me. "Well, at least it's a nice day for it..."

We walk for a very pleasant ten minutes or so before the doggirl blinks and clears her throat, "Sorry. Those little monsters always make me lose my composure."

"Squirrels? Whatcha gonna do?"


"It's an Earth-dog thing..."

"Right," Sceolàn makes a thoughtful dog face, "Where were we?"

"You need me for a lead."

"Yes. We have information that one of your clone sisters has found evidence about why Halley-Prime was abducted. She's keeping it to herself, possibly because she's been intimidated by someone. Master believes that this Halley will only share what she's learned with another Halley, which is why we'd like you to go pay her a visit."

I touch my filthy face mask, "The Sleeping God told me that Halley-Prime was the true target of the abduction."

Sceolàn nodded, "Master had surmised as much. Master believes this evidence contains new details about why the abduction took place. It could be the key to finding Halley-Prime."

"Or at least explaining why I'm here." 

"Exactly." The petgirl agent tilts her head, "Interested?"

I break eye contact with the petgirl and look away, down the slope of the city and out towards the Junk Desert. This felt like a big decision, one of those choices that would inevitably lead to consequences. I wasn’t sure it was worth it. I could stay with Bluebell and focus on the dairy business, maybe sort things out with Clem, carve out a new life. Leave chasing after Halley-Prime to hobbyist infobrokers and their dogs. To newer, pristine Halleys. I blow out a sigh, but I want to know. I want to know why I was on Flotsam and why I’m a clone and why I was preyed on by a cosmic alien horror. I want to know what happened to Halley-Prime. Fuck it, I came to this meeting didn’t I? I’ve already made my choice. "Is it dangerous?"

"We don't expect it to be."

"And your Master will share what they learn with me."


"And you expect this to actually solve the mystery?" 


“This is such a bad idea,” I say. “But I’m in.”

“Excellent,” Sceolàn says with a bark, her tail wagging. The petgirl walks closer to me, sits rather formally and lifts a front paw, like she’s doing the handshake trick. I laugh and reach out, grasp the rough paw in my hand, and we shake. “Welcome to the team. If you’ll tap your Keyband against my collar, there’ll be a secure file transfer with the mission details. Do not look at them now, find a private place to review the documents. Included in the packet is a network address to let Master know when you’re done.”


“Now if you could walk me back to my minder, we can end this meeting. I’m going to slip back into dog-mode if you don’t mind. Walkies are so much better that way.”

“Yeah, but just one more question before you check out.”


"What do I call your Master?"

"You can call them Gan Ceann"