New Captive Friends

“Keep going sir… uh, ma’am.”

You know things are bad when you’re excited to hear almost any sounds of activity outside your own cell—even one of the guards urging yet another captive mutated citizen along. Whatever day this was—and none of us knew any longer, without our handtech keeping us connected to the outer world like civilized humans!—the familiar voice of this guard whose name we didn’t know (Sara thought she’d heard Jimmy one time) immediately caught our attention.

“OK, stop. This is your new under-quarantine home away from home.”

Sara and I were already staring out into the corridor at this new entity before Rose finished rolling her eyes at the latest meaningless euphemism meant to cover up involuntary incarceration in the name of quarantine.

Staring back in at us quizzically was a big-breasted individual whose neck had mutated into a giant penis shaft, with their human head now a giant penis head with the usual eyes, eyebrows, and nose, and a decidedly penis-like vertical slot in place of a standard human mouth. Shocked as I was seeing this anatomy and the need of the person to utilize both hands to hold their head up kept me from inspecting them much further.

The guard opened the metal bar cell door, motioning the individual inward as he spoke to us. “Ladies: please welcome Virgil, our newest resident.”

I struggled not to palm my face when Rose blurted out, “Since when did these become mixed-gender cells!”

The guard’s intense stares at my tenta-nips and Sara’s peni was enough of an answer. Nevertheless as he stared he said, “Looks like it’s been that way all along. Inside, please”.

Seeing what Virgil had between his(?) legs was equally disturbing and intriguing: it looked for all the world like that part of them was a giant super-long vagina with a huge clitoral hood!, visible as he/she/they shuffled further inside.

Eueeurrrruuurr… CLUNNNNnnnnggg!

Door closed (and locked), guard walking away.

“Hi” a male-deep voice hesitantly spoke from vertical lips. “Any… particular place you’d like me?”

{Riding one or more of my tentacles works for me} I thought, frustrated-hornier than I cared to admit. I would’ve preferred doing Rose or maybe Sara, though the more I thought about it, the more firmly I concluded that the fit would be better with me poking this new cell mate than struggling to get Sara excited enough to possibly take me in without harm (and she was far too big for me to take her in!).

“Anywhere you want” replied Rose, from her usual lying-on-upper-bunk position. “There’s no assigned seating in here.”

Kneeling down on the floor sociably near many of my tentacles was what Virgil chose.

“Hi Virgil; I’m Sara. Looks like we might have some thangs in common.”

“Thank you for being nice to me, Sara. So many people don’t even want to look at me” Virgil ended with a sigh.

“And I’m Tent–”

“–Or more properly Margie, or Margaret Caroline Armitage if you’re scolding her.”

Thwock!—I thwocked impudent Rose then wobbled several of her boobs with my nearest tentacle. “Stop interrupting please, Rose Camellia Bush! That’s her actual given name, Virgil.”

“And Margie just prefers Tent so she can lord her 8 pricky tentacles over our consciousnesses as much as possible. Preferred pronouns, mate?”

“I’m good with whatever you like. From birth up until the mutations I was a standard cismale man, so he/him is what people including myself used. But now… it’s more complicated, and I won’t argue against any of the other options.”

“Do you feel up to sharing your story, from when you started mutating through now?”

“Wouldn’t you rather be feeling him up, m’dear tenta-cow?”

Sara came to my defense, “What’s gotten into you, Rose?”

“Boredom! Given that we apparently have all the time in the world, Virgil, whom I’d very much like to call Vagil for reasons which ought not to need explanation, might as well tell us his life story from birth.”

I disagreed. “Let’s just start with the mutation-onward story, then if we’re all into hearing more of his life story today and he’s into telling it, we can do that.”

Most of us (other than lazy Rose) shifted around into more long-term comfortable positions.

“Before I get started, what pronouns do each of you prefer?”

“We all started out as cis women, so she/her for all of us.”

This earned Rose more tentacle boob thwocks. In hindsight I now think she was doing this on purpose to get physical contact out of me. “Do you always speak for other people without first even checking in with them?!”

“What? You wanna be sie/hir or he/him all of a sudden? Now you’re so big at this point, I can understand if you prefer they/them.”

This earned Rose some boob and arm tickles, which we quickly discovered made Virgil’s penis shaft neck straighten out somewhat (albeit nowhere near fully at this time).

“I use and prefer she/her, and so do Rose and Tent so far, making me wonder why Tent objected so strongly to Rose speaking on all our behalf.”

Sara flinched slightly as one of my other tentacles moved towards her, apparently thinking I intended to thwock her too. She hadn’t interrupted me, thus I had no need to tenta-cuff her nor do anything similar. Instead she found this part of me wrapping around her upper torso, like a big arm around her.

“You look sad, Virgil” I commented. “Or am I misinterpreting things?”

“My face is a hard read now, I know. I’m grateful that I get to be in here with you three, grateful that you’re not hating on me like people in the outer world did, and hoping none of you will be offended when I share aloud that you’re all really beautiful!”

Sara seemed especially touched by his comment, her eyes momentarily sparkling his direction. I felt flattered, I admit it.

Rose was a tougher read. Even she flashed a brief partial smile as she averted her eyes and said, “Betcha say that to all the mutant girls.”

“Only the pretty ones. So yeah, Tent, I’m a little sad, struggling as a new person here to figure out what sort of comment I should make to get some tentacle or other friendly intimate contact love.”

“Use your words: ask.”

“Please may I share some physical contact with any one or more of you who may feel so inclined?”

With so many tentacles and so little effort required, it was no hardship whatsoever to introduce one to him, then wrap it loosely around him in a friendly manner similar to what I was doing with Sara.

“Don’t hold back your mutation saga on my account” Rose groused, for no reason obvious to the rest of us.

“I guess it’s been nearly two months since the changes started. Early one morning I had a super-vivid sexy dream about living inside a woman’s body, having huge, sexy jugs. The sensations seemed so real! When I woke up it was still dark outside. To my total amazement, my hands were already on my chest, on my actual boobs!”

“What size?”

“Don’t know for sure. Judging from exes whom I asked or whose bra tags I read, right about 36D I’m thinking. I was so completely stunned to suddenly have real boobs of any size of generous, it didn’t occur to me to measure them.”

“You weren’t at all put off by being suddenly feminized like this?” Sara wondered.

“No, because boobs!” he laughed, briefly letting go of his penis neck to juggle his now-much-larger pair. “This was a Saturday morning, I didn’t have anywhere urgent to go, and I was already horny and as of the night prior already thinking about porn immersion once I woke up, so it was a no-brainer to keep playing with my new developments. As I learned during the course of the day, playing with them made them bigger!”

“How do you know that wasn’t the mutation unfolding further?”

“I don’t” he sighed. “That’s probably what it was.”

“Any idea what triggered it?” I asked.

“At the time I didn’t much care, so I didn’t really think about it. Only once other stuff started happening and I got concerned did I think back and realize that I’d had some Lakeside Bucolic Farms milk the day before my boobs first came in.”

“Which variety?”

“Pinnacle Premium Creamy” he responded, with a dreamy look in his eyes. “That stuff’s awesome!”

Rose and I briefly glanced at one another, wisely choosing to say nothing. As much as Rose from time to time enjoyed sucking dick, I had the sense that she wasn’t ready for a dick suckling her. Not to mention that there would almost certainly be new mutations therefrom, shining the spotlight of the world’s collective angst and fear directly onto us—or at least Rose.

“So anyway, I spent the whole rest of the weekend playing with my new boobs, thrilling at them growing bigger. So obsessed was I that I hadn’t even considered that come Monday morning I’d need to get into clothes and show up at work, and how that might be a little weird.”

“So at that point you were stressing about having boobs, huh?” Sara leadingly didn’t quite ask, I gathered seeking affirmation that someone other than her was equally freaked out by major body changes.

“No, actually all that bothered me was not having a shirt or top that in any way fit well, not having a bra or knowing whether I needed one, and hoping not to gloat too hard at winning the spontaneous body modification grand prize.”

“What’s your line of work?” asked Rose.

“It was office equipment installation and servicing.”

“Isn’t that IT?”

“I got into some of that, but it wasn’t the main focus. A lot of places to this day still push paper, so it was a lot of copiers, specialty printers, fax machines, office telephone systems and yes those were mostly going VoIP or cellular… that sort of stuff. Installation additionally got into furniture—desks, chairs, tables, shelving, occasionally still a file cabinet—and even workplace kitchen stuff like pro-grade microwave ovens and big-ass coffee makers.”

“Tent would be the biggest ass here if she still had an ass. Actually maybe she is anyway.”

Thwock!

Rose’s and my tentacle-arm-boob scuffle (with both of our body cores restfully lying back the whole time) apparently crossed over one of Sara’s limits, “Pleeeease Ladies: settle!”

“Now where was I?”

“Sitting on the floor on your giant vag, last I checked.”

Sara shot quipper Rose then me scolding stares before things could again escalate back into boredom friend-and-frustrated-lover-wrestling dust-ups.

“Oh yeah—going back to work. I managed to get into an oversized football jersey-styled shirt someone gave me that I never normally wore. To my surprise and pleasure, once at work my boss had her own mutations more severe and less sexy than my own, hence she gave me no grief. After work I hit the thrift stores for tops, spending far too much time trying various ones on, not realizing what might happen if my body kept changing. Blew me away that by the time I made it to a place that sold bras a few days later, I was already too big for what they had in stock.

“It wasn’t much more than about 10 days after the boobs first appeared before other changes started happening—and not good ones. My neck was hyperextending, which it had never done before, yet without any pain or other problems, far as I could tell. That was scary, but the truly upsetting part was having my manhood shrink. These things kept happening and my boobs and especially nips kept growing, but not in a linear fashion: more sudden bursts of activity then seeming stable, or nearly so.”

The rest of us nodded knowingly.

“Whew! Glad I’m not the only one with that pattern.”

“Not even close” I assured him.

“One of the sudden times was when I awoke to a far too long, far too flexible neck. My penis was gone… at least the one I knew in the normal place, with the normal glans. This too happened on a weekend day, where once more I was inexplicably horny for someone whose body was doing bizarre things. Suddenly having a vag was not on my want list, though it was a novelty and felt good to play with. Soon as I discovered that I now had total, full multiple orgasm ability, it was all over: I spent the remainder of the weekend getting off until soreness or exhaustion stopped me.

“When nearly all my neck muscles along with my hair disappeared is when I truly started to freak out. I’d noticed an uncanny, uncomfortable resemblance between my elongating, changing neck and a part of me which was no longer a part of me, managing to shove it below consciousness and remain in denial until my hair vanished. It was only about a day after that when the neck skin fully became a foreskin, and there could be no more denial.”

“How long was this after things started?”

“Easily 5 weeks. I haven’t been like this all this long.”

“What do you think of the changes as they are now?” asked Sara.

“Miss my hair. Hate having to hold my neck and head up all the time, other than when I’m sufficiently hard. Boobs are rad, and if I could keep just those and otherwise revert, I’d be totally cool with the mutation. The giant vag is much too much, though at this point I’d be down with no dick with a normal neck and head, and keeping the vagina in whatever form, to keep the multiple orgasm capability.”

Virgil didn’t get much further than that before lunch was delivered. Beyond food, he had some learning to do in order to play along with being one of Hetch’s good girls, for all our interests to be best served.

Getting used to mutations is often at least half the struggle, both for the person with them and those who interact with them. Sara warmed up fairly quickly to Virgil, sharing huge-dick problems affecting them both, often cuddled together on the cell floor. He and I had commonality with huge boobs and somewhat with huge peni, though less so for mine than his or Sara’s.

Rose took longer to warm up to him, doing so mostly over their shared experiences with huge clits & vaginas, and hypersexuality. I knew things would be OK between them once Rose asked that he rub his huge nips against Uddy’s huge teats. He didn’t need his hands to hold his head up for that, boy howdy!

Enough additional days passed that we all lost track of how many there had been since Virgil joined us. During this span he indeed shared the rest of his life story, with most of us other than easily-bored Rose re-sharing ours for him to hear, and to fill time we otherwise couldn’t readily fill.

Right about the time several of us thought we were about to go insane and possibly on a rampage from remaining locked up with no end in sight having committed no crime, a new distraction appeared at the door of our cell.

“OK cowgirl, get in here with the other milkers” jailer-du-jour told the new arrival as he swung the cell’s door open. “I’m sure you’ll have an udderly great time. Heh heh.”

Eueeurrrruuurr… CLUNNNNnnnnggg!

Moments later, he was gone. Once again and as usual, it was just us inside the cell, alone together.

“Holy cannoli with a side of guacamole!” wide-eyed Sara exclaimed. “How many weeks has it been since you last expressed milk?!”

“Just did it yesterday” the voice nearly buried behind her own hugely distended boobs and obscenely distended udder replied.

Only after she came to a stop inside the cell did any of us realize that she’d had to roll her udder in atop a furniture moving platform with wheels to be able to move!

“Normally I strive to milk every hour on the hour or close, but when thrust into the uninformed hands of law enforcement posing as public health officials, things don’t necessarily go according to plan.”

“Let’s get you to the toilet and get you going! You must be in serious pain!”

“Toilet’s where we’ve been instructed we have to dump our milk” I elaborated, after Sara.

“Alright” our new arrival sighed. “Hate to waste it, but it’s not like mine’s been tested or anything… or that they even know how to test milk for mutation contamination at this point.”

Sara remained far more frantic than any of the rest of us including this new arrival, likely recalling her own suffering from not knowing she needed to express her milk. “Need anything?! Want help?!”

“Well I can’t exactly reach myself when things get this far out of control, so: yes please. Prolly going to have to start with my top udder teats, then figure out how to lift my lower chambers up high enough to clear the toilet rim.”

“We got this” Rose smiled, oozing herself off her upper bunk cot down onto the floor with her usual booby plop.

I in the meantime was already reaching a tentacle over to meet our new guest, then help her out with judicious teat tugs I knew so well from my personal life. {I’m going to need to get milking soon too} I thought, realizing how full my own udder was getting.

Brave and somewhat stoic in terms of pain as she appeared, our newest peer clearly needed so much mind share to hold so much milk, pain, and maybe more inside that there wasn’t much point getting to know her better until she was drawn down. All we initially learned from her was that her first name was Helia. From her body we learned that she was a mighty milker, putting out nearly as much as me in a huge-yet-more-compact package.

We heard a whole lot of relaxing “Aahhhhhhh”s of relief from her during the several hours it took to draw her down.

Helia looked and told us she felt a whole lot better once fully milked. Like the rest of us other than (so far) udder-free Virgil, she remained busty and udderly big even when empty, though not to my outlier level in either of those categories.

She’d learned our names during her milking, and now that I was taking my turn drawing down (with Sara then Rose to follow), we learned the rest of hers. “Melonowski. And yes, some people joke about Helia Melonowski having hella melons, but it’s my actual name.”

“Is it rough, suddenly having all these big boob jokes hurled at you?” asked least-busty Sara, whom even after Helia was drawn down and by all signs and her own words comfortable, doted over her like a mother hen.

“There’s really not much sudden about something that’s gone on for years.”

“You’ve had an udder for years?!”

“No no; let me explain. I’ve always been busty, annnnd let’s say well-appointed other places… since adolescence, anyway. I’m a little unusual in that I like having really big boobs. No, strike that: I love having really big boobs! Not only that, I’ve long had a torrid love affair with dairy products, milk especially. Some people call it an addiction, but it’s not like that, really. I do, however, loves me a good glass of milk. Indeed I’ve been called a milk connoisseur, along the lines of a wine connoisseur, wanting to try all sorts of different varieties for the joy of experiencing the subtle flavor, scent, aftertaste, and texture variations.

“Given what’s happened, I truly believe that karma is very real. I’ve dreamt and dreamt wild fantasies of becoming a huge milky cow for years. Before this all started, I had messed around with lactation—erotic lactation” she shared more softly as an aside. “But things in my life weren’t in place to maintain that, sadly.

“So there I was in my favorite store which carries a broad selection of microdairy products, getting more excited than I probably ought to admit perusing the new adds to the refrigerated milk cases. Spotted my first real-world sighting of a few Lakeside Bucolic Farms bottles, about which I’d been reading on the Milk Magnificence site in their discussion forums section. Had to have the half gallon—had to have it, having waited so long to try it.”

“Which one?” asked Virgil, saving Rose and myself the trouble.

“Regular whole. Oh heaven!” her eyes fluttered in bliss.

“What about the Pinnacle Premium Creamy?”

“I wish! Couldn’t get any.”

Virgil dared to clamp his hand on her wrist, eyes lit up and aroused enough that his neck stayed up. “You’ve got to try some! It is the best milk I’ve ever had!”

“But that dairy’s milks are the source of all our mutations!” Sara objected.

“Yeahhhh” Helia sighed as Virgil released his grip. “It’s off the market now anyway.”

“What?, you’d drink more mutation milk if you could get it?!”

Helia’s demure eye-averting smiling blush said more than spoken words could. Soon she had more of those as well, “I like being an udder girl! Don’t you?”

“I’d rather not talk about it now.”

“I’d rather hear your story, Helia” added Rose.

“OK, so anyway—oh, you’ve gotta see these pictures of what happened to me when I couldn’t wait to get up the the register and opened up the bottle of Lakeside and went at it right there in the aisle.”

Naked like us, none of the rest of us could believe that from the depths of her perpetual cleavage, she extracted her deluxe app-running mobile!

“How did you get that in here?!” exclaimed Sara, earning an immediate tentacle whack from me and a “Shhhh!” hush hiss from Rose, who went on to softly advise Helia, “Don’t let anyone outside this cell know you have your cell, else they’ll take it away from you!”

“OK, c’mere all of you and look, before anyone comes by.”

We all squished and piled in as close as we could for a look at her small screen with minimal passing around.

“Here I am about a minute after taking a big swig and screwing the cap back on, already busting out of my top, which did fit properly a mere minute earlier. Though I could feel something sudden, new, big, heavy, and wet down below, as usual for anything on my lower body, my boobs blocked my sight lines. I’m stunned frozen stationary, freaking out because no human spontaneously develops an udder, and not even bovine cows grow one from nothing in a minute. I’m equally stunned because I’m insanely overjoyed and turned on that I seem to have a real, functioning udder, of which as I mentioned I’ve long dreamt.

“Quickly remembering a chant a self-proclaimed witch who seemed to know what she was doing taught me, I chanted ‘Presto reversi cursi!’, followed by another equal-sized swig of the Lakeside milk. Then, over the course of the next 3 minutes as I stood there in shock, this happened:”

“Obviously I didn’t chant correctly, or mis-applied the chant, or it doesn’t actually work. I’d be lying to you if I told you I didn’t love my boobs being suddenly huger, and now with a grand udder and teats so huge even I could see them past my now beyond bodacious boobage. Bursting out of my clothes right there in the store was, however, suboptimal.

“As I stood there trying to figure out what to do, time passed and I kept swelling ever-bigger, ever-milkier—all without having even one more drop of that very tasty Lakeside Bucolic Farms whole regular milk. By that time I’d swollen up to this point:”

“Damn!” “Oh my gosh!” “Unbelievable!” “That’s bigger than you were when you came in here!” Virgil, me, Rose, then Sara all exclaimed, most of us partly atop each other.

“Wait… how do you even have these pictures?” Rose suspiciously asked.

“Store owner let me copy them from the security camera. That’s why they’re in black and white.”

“How did you get out of there?!” asked Sara.

“Moving wasn’t a core competency at that point, as you might imagine, nor was my ongoing shock helping move things along. Before I could figure anything out, another customer took one look at me and figured I had to be an exceptionally realistic milk dispensing machine, inexplicably placed in the middle of the milk aisle rather than someplace sensible like a perpendicular aisle end cap.”

“A very porny milk dispensing machine!” Virgil interjected, very definitely not needing to hold his head up with his hands at this point.

“Well, I wouldn’t say porny, but yes, I was fully frontally exposed, and very full of milk. This customer didn’t seem to mind, filling empty plastic bottle after bottle with my milk, somehow in denial that she was tugging on the live flesh of a real person, not operating a machine.”

“Why didn’t you say something to make her stop?”

“Why would I, Rose? It felt great!”

Her serene blissed-out grin made me wonder what was up with her. Then again, if it happened to me, I might have done exactly the same thing, or close.

“More people came in on that day for milk self-fill than I’d ever seen before. All I had to do and did do was stand there and let them drain me down, until I was small enough—relatively small enough—to again move under my own power. Vahid knows me well, and that I’m a great customer, thus he didn’t give me any grief about checking out full-frontal nude, and shared the security cam pics with me during the process.”

Sara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So you just walked out of the store like that?!”

“They’re a specialty market, not a clothing nor department store, so it’s not as though I had much of a choice, so yes, that’s exactly what happened.”

“Were people using your boobs too, for filling their milk bottles?” I felt the need to ask.

“No, I suckled them myself out in the car, drinking myself down until I could turn the steering wheel and drive home.”

“Then what happened?”

She wrinkled her nose, “I like you all, but I just got here and don’t know any of you all that well yet. Let’s just say that the tattered remains of my clothes came off and it felt really really good for all the hours I went at it.”

By now, Virgil’s neck was longer than any of us had seen it. “So how did you get from there to here?”

“This major milk event happened about a week before the news broke about the Lakeside Bucolic Farms milk products causing the mutations. Worked from home, which I often do under normal circumstances, had a great week of milky busty big udderly joy, then got swept up in one of the mutation sweeps when I made the mistake of not paying attention and rolling out the trash, yard waste, and recycling bins when people were looking and law enforcement was driving by. That was yesterday, and here I am.”

The sound of approaching guard boots incited Helia to hide her device and all of us to get into less suspicious positions. Another newer guard we’d not seen before peered in, looking shocked and upset at our mutations. She seemed relieved we were behaving, so she could leave us alone and move on to her next serial mutation comprehension trauma incident in the next cell.

One of our new cell mate Helia’s first lessons regarding prison life was that lunch happened on the prison’s schedule, and that there were no choices to be made. She seemed to contentedly take it in stride, sitting down next to Sara on one of the bench seats, getting into and apparently enjoying her meal.

A few times during lunch she noticed me gazing at her for extended spans of time, smiling (when she could, in terms of food in her mouth) and waving. Voracious foodie that I can sometimes be, most of the time both hands and my mouth were full, requiring me to use one or more unoccupied tentacles to wave back at her.

“Am I captivating you, Tent?” Helia asked as she set her empty plate aside.

“She’s poking out of her foreskins, so that would be yes.”

Much as I wanted to use one of those tentadicks to slap Rose in the face for her comment, I refrained, instead using a couple of them to mimic the index finger warning woggle. “As someone whose mutations are less severe than any of ours, I’m impressed with how well and how calmly you’re taking all of ours.”

“She’s into boobs by her own admission, so why would she complain?”

“Is it really necessary to answer on behalf of others who aren’t you before the individual addressed even has a chance?!”

Rose frowned, folding several sets of arms over several pairs of boobs.

“I feel warm fuzzy safe feelings amongst you. You’re all very obviously human despite your various mutations, and we all still have our minds and speak the same language, which makes acceptance easier. Almost all of us have udders in common, and all of us have boobs and maybe something more in common, so in a sense Rose is correct.”

“I’m taken by your strong positive, peaceful, friendly energy.”

“Thank you!”

“It seems like no matter what, you have a smile and good word for anyone.”

“Well, much as I’d like that to always be true, I’m a primarily human cowgirl like the rest of us—most of the rest of us” she smiled towards Virgil, “and no human I know can be sunshine and pleasantness all the time, including me.”

“It’s likely easier to be sunnier for those who haven’t been incarcerated for days innumerable” Rose groused.

Helia had another smile for her too, along with a compliment, “I like how you do the soft bongo thing with your various hands on your various breasts.”

“By the time we get outta here, I’ll be a virtuoso.” Tap tap tap tap slap tap slap. “That or dead!”

“How is it that you’re having raging morning wood in the afternoon, awake?” Rose asked Virgil later in the afternoon, across the bunk from her where I often rest and sleep.

Indeed, he had his long neck going:

“Apologies to all present. You’re very beautiful women, and we are all nude, annnnd… yeah.”

“So how does that explain all the days you’ve been in here where this didn’t happen, and all of a sudden today it is, especially with you spending so much time looking at our newest cell mate?”

“I again apologize to all of you, and you in particular, Helia, since, being honest, as Rose just observed I… really like being in your presence.”

Helia wiggled and blushed a little, unable to hold back blatantly obvious signs of her own arousal in the form of swelling breasts; swelling, hardening nipples; and I’d swear or affirm in a court of law udder and teat swelling. “I like being in yours too, Virgil. All of yours, truly!”

If any of the rest of us had still had any lunch, we likely could’ve reheated it atop certain parts of these two who’d fallen into amorous flirt mode.

Whether by choice or being unable to hold back, Helia took her flirt up a notch. “Does your neck ever get any longer than that?”

“A little bit. Especially when my head, clit, and/or nips and areolae are sensually caressed.”

I had to show Rose and Sara some tentacle caressing love to keep them calm as Helia and Virgil very lightly made out, mostly in the form of her caressing him and him getting harder and startlingly more aroused down below in vagina land.

The sound of boots approaching out in the corridor made all of us other than Helia tense up.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Prepping to be well-behaved” Sara replied.

It was yet another guard we’d not seen before, eyeing us suspiciously then looking away and moving on to the next occupied cell as quickly as possible.

“At least it wasn’t Hetch” Rose quarter-smiled.

“Who’s Hetch?”

“Officer Hetch is one of the main people around here” I explained to Helia. “Might be the warden or close, but none of us know that.”

“Margie’s his pet” Rose taunted me, intentionally using a slightly less annoying form of the given name I don’t particularly like.

“As long as we’re his good girls, he ensures we’re treated well.”

“What about Virgil?”

“I’m feeling quite androgynous since the last round of mutations. Beyond doing my part to play along in hopes of getting us things we might want or need, I’m proud to be a ‘good girl’ amongst present company.”

We all took some more time and turns explaining the whole Good Girl thing, and everything any of us could think of about prison life that might benefit Helia knowing, and that we hadn’t already shared.

Helia’s presence made all our lives better solely because she was who she was: this beacon of friendly love and positivity (and, like me and Sara and to a lesser degree Rose, a lot of milk). Beyond that, having somehow snuck her handheld in with her and being gracious and willing to share, we again had a lifeline to the outer world!… until the charge ran out.

“OK: final low power warning” she notified us, reclaiming the drained device.

“Nice while it lasted” I sighed.

We all looked at each other with pained expressions and individual sighs, already feeling the anxiety of being hurtled back into the communications dark ages of last millennium yet again. So upset were we that none of us bothered moving from where we were all gathered together in the middle of the cell when we heard boots approaching.

It was Hetch. “What’s all the sadness and long faces about, ladies?”

“Charge ran out” Helia explained as she bravely (and some of us thought stupidly) held up her device.

“Dawwww” he replied with feigned sympathy. “I knew it was someone amongst these few adjacent cells running cellular. You’re not supposed to have that, you know.”

“Why not?!” Rose shot back. “So we can’t look up the U.S. Constitution and arrange for asserting our constitutional rights?!”

“Statute law passed by Congress and ruled Constitutional by the Supreme Court back in the early 1900s during what they called at the time the Spanish Flu pandemic allows citizens to be quarantined for the greater public good of health and safety.”

“Not open-ended it doesn’t!”

“Awww, now don’t be so surly, Ms. Bush. Top scientists and medical experts around much of the world have been working around the clock to work this out. Why just yesterday I read of progress in terms of diminished spread of mutations.”

“Yes, and we’d be able to read that too, directly for ourselves, with our own devices—our property!”

“Don’t be such a dick, Mr. Dickson.”

The rest of us in the cell turned and looked towards Virgil with smiles and grins at various points along the admiring to smirky continuum, none of us having heard his surname before.

Rose’s and Virgil’s tending-angry responses were arguably appropriate. I knew they were unlikely to move Hetch. More than that, I felt strongly that at least me remaining a good girl would help us, going forward. Helia also went with silence, a tad more sullen than me, now that imprisonment without cause was beginning to wear thin on her too.

Sara was at least as upset as Rose—likely more so. Instead of anger, her feelings of frustration and the unfairness of the situation came out in a river of tears. “Denying handheld technology from young 20-somethings constitutes harshly cruel punishment!”

I had to hide my excitement, seeing him twitch: a crack in his façade! “I’ll take it under advisement” he muttered as he walked away.

Hard-boiled as he strove to be, Hetch struggled with pretty (and sexy) young women crying. As I later learned (and it would take too long here and now to explain how), seeing in Sara’s tears the agony a cousin-once-removed of his right around our ages suffered when her tech inexplicably bricked at a critical juncture in her social life hit him hard. Within the hour, he caved: each of us had our handhelds back! Woot! Woot! Snoopy Happy Dance!

“Deep packet inspection!” he warned as he handed each of us our respective devices.

“On cell or Wi-Fi?” asked Virgil.

“Both. We’re reading everything and blocking anything encrypted, so forget about Signal and all that.”

“Then we can’t use the World-Wide Web at all, so what’s the point?!”

“We see what sites you’re going to. If we need to know more, we have ways.”

Rose silently mouthed “key logger” Virgil’s way, without saying anything aloud.

Rolling his eyes, he struggled not to bang his dickhead against the cell wall, the way he usually did when he got frustrated.

“We all good now, girls?”

As alluded to above, Hetch insisted upon calling us all girls, since Virgil had such big boobs and his world-class giant vagina.

I had to keep my jaw from falling off when Rose offered, “Boob grope on me if and only if you bring us all suitable charging cords and chargers”. She could barely stand the sight of the man at times!

Hetch’s lecherous grin confirmed to me that we’d get our cables and power blocks, sooner than later.

“So how was it when he handled you?” Sara asked, once the electrifying deed was done.

“Not so bad” Rose sighed. “Wish he’d washed his hands first.”

She felt much better after a wash cloth boob bath the rest of us gave her in short order.

Having our devices back assuredly helped, despite in no way resolving the underlying unConstitutional imprisonment. None of us other than Virgil had issues with the filtering, and he soon enough either gave up or found a workaround. All I know is that he stopped complaining.

“Oh wow! Tent: did you read about how they’ve determined that no known breed of bovine cow produces milk like the Lakeside Bucolic Farms products?”

“No.” I tried not to tense up, thinking {Took them long enough!}

“Why are you singling her out for sharing this breaking news?” Rose asked in her well-honed suspicious tone.

I hadn’t seen Sara’s eyes light up quite as much as when she replied, “They’ve got all the raw data, right here! Wow…. I figured since she’s aiming towards medical research as am I, she might want to see the findings.”

With her permission, using several of my tentacles (since Sara was pretty heavy at this point, currently over half full of milk) I bodily lifted her up and brought her over and atop me for friendly cuddly sharing, where we could both see the same data at the same time. It was actually quite interesting, and rewarding getting into what we could understand of the nitty-gritty hard data together.

A few minutes later, Virgil broke the silence. “Says here that several prominent scientists are convinced that the Lakeside Bucolic Farms milks were not of bovine origin. Anyone else see that?”

“No” Sara and I said together, with her adding, “Send either of us the links, or pages.”

“I want it too, please” Rose requested.

“If it’s not bovine, what do they think it is?” asked Helia.

“According to this article from Associated NewsyBits, some researchers think goat. A couple others say sheep. One researcher in Switzerland is convinced that it’s human milk, but no one else’s findings match that so far.”

Glad as I was in some ways that they still hadn’t figured out the source, in other ways I was offended. {How can they not know?! We haven’t mutated that much!… have we?}

Pretty soon we got tired of thinking about Lakeside Bucolic Farms milk, and soon after that news in general. Playing a round of HearthStone then sharing some of our favorite recent (before we were locked up) videos made us feel at least a little better: more connected to the rest of humanity, thus more human.