The Last Nabbit?

Deep into mid-winter and the new year, drama burst unbidden back into our lives. It happened one cold, clear winter’s day, with only a few cm of snow on the ground.

The blast of cold air from the front door opening immediately drew my attention away from the current website I was creating for a client.

“Hey Rose” Sara, working nearby, greeted her as she closed the door.

I noticed her worried expression immediately. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s happening at Dag’s house.”

Sara and I looked at each other. To us, this finding carried no particular import.

“Maybe he’s out on a long hike” I suggested.

“Or away, visiting family or friends.”

“Or in town stocking up on supplies. We know he does that.”

Rose wasn’t having it. “Nah no. I’ve been looking at his house all morning while cleaning and sewing over in mine. His truck’s there, so he didn’t drive anywhere. No lights at all, no smoke from the chimney.”

“That suggests Tent’s theory of a long hike as most probable.”

“Well I haven’t looked closely, but I did use binoculars and I sure didn’t see any footprints in the snow anywhere near his house. He’s not a young man. He has no living family that I know of.”

“But he’s very spry and seems healthy.”

“When was the last time either of you saw him, or heard him?”

Rose’s question made each of us think long and hard.

“I haven’t seen him for a week and a half at least” I eventually replied.

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw or heard him” answered Sara.

“Exactly! That is not normal.”

A deep, sinking feeling overcame me, which I also saw overtaking Sara.

“What should we do?” I asked.

“Do a damn welfare check!” Rose raged. “He Does. Not. Have. Any. Family. We’re it.”

Sara was already heading to the guest room, “I’ll be right back, soon as I get my boots on.”

Like Rose, I was all ready to go.

Bubblensqueak Lake and surrounding woodlands were their usual tranquil selves as we trudged through the snow along the shoreline towards Dag Nabbit’s cabin home. The morning sun glinted through the pine leaves, its shimmering semi-stroboscopic effect equally agitating me with the intense, unpredictable light pattern and soothing me that at least the sun was in the sky. A cold-loving winter bird I didn’t see well enough to identify flitted between several branches on various trees, chirping very occasionally and briefly.

“No prints” Rose pointed out as we neared Dag’s cabin, motioning various disparate directions with several of her hands, “anywhere.”

I felt a knot tighten in the pit of my abdomen. “When did you last see or hear from him?”

“Or any activity here?” Sara quickly added.

The cold look in Rose’s face and in the tone of her voice somehow seemed colder than the snow on the ground. “Eleven days ago.”

We arrived at Dag’s front door. Amongst the 3 of us, only Rose had ever been inside his cabin.

“Deep breath; here we go” she said.

Knock knock knock knock knock. “Daaag! Mister Nabbit! It’s we three Milk Maidens Tent, Sara, and me Rooosse!”

She fell silent and so did we, straining our ears for any possible signs of life within.

Nothing.

Sara yanked Rose’s top right hand away from the door latch when she reached for it, “He might shoot us if we catch him unawares!”

“He might be rotting in there!” she snarled, the anger in her eyes muted by the nascent tears she struggled to hold back.

Neither of us stopped her on her second reach for the door latch, which she grabbed and pressed.

Clink!

“It’s unlocked. He never leaves the place unlocked when he’s out of sight of it.”

She cracked the door open just enough to use it as a megaphone, “Daaag! It’s me Rooosse! Sara and Tent are with me. We haven’t seen nor heard from you for awhile, and want to ensure you’re OK. Are you home? May we please come in?”

This time we faintly heard labored breathing once Rose stopped speaking and we listened carefully.

“We’re coming in now, Dag. So don’t shoot us, ’cause we just wanna say hi and know that you’re OK.”

Bravely, she opened the door fully. The house was dark and cold, with the sun at the wrong angle to make much of any illuminating impression on the interior.

I couldn’t see anything, but Rose sure did. “Oh shit!” she yelled, rushing inside.

“Sara! Tent! Get in here!”

Sara led the way near-running over to the middle of the medium-small main room of Dag Nabbit’s cabin, where Rose was crouched (as much as a boob worm woman can crouch) next to a small couch near the center of the room, facing the stone-cold fireplace. As usual, I couldn’t be in any big hurry squeezing inside without trashing the place.

I heard Dag’s labored breathing before my eyes adjusted enough to the darkness for me to see him. He was sprawled across the couch, alive but obviously very not well, shivering like the dickens (as my grandmother on my father’s side likes to say).

“Sara?”

“I’m right here, Dag” she replied nearly as breathlessly as him, obviously upset.

With a force she later told me was surprisingly strong, he shoved a white envelope into her hands.

“What’s this?”

“Deed. Hhhhlll.” he gasped. “To this property. Hhhhlll. Cabin and land.”

“What?! Why?!”

“I’m dyin’, girl! Hhhhlll. Yours now. Hhhhlll. Your own house.”

“No, Dag!” she burst into tears, dropping the envelope. “Not yet!”

Sara’s nursing mode kicked in strong, hard, and fast. “Get some heat in here!” she barked at us. “Boil some water! Heat some towels! Go go go!”

I barely saw Dag clamp his unsteady hand firmly onto Sara’s wrist as Rose and I crashed into each other in our rush to fulfill Sara’s orders and do what we could to keep Mr. Nabbit alive. “Too late. Hhhhlll. I’m done.”

“Not until I’m done examining you, sir!”

Rose had to leave the fireplace to me and go boil water, given that she was the only one amongst the two of us who could fit through the doorway to the kitchen, and I strongly suspected the only one of us able to fit inside it well enough to get anything accomplished.

For brief moments I worried whether the fireplace soot would wash out of what we now called my Winter Woot!fit, most of the time knowing it didn’t matter: our neighbor and property protector’s life was at stake! I couldn’t see daylight through the chimney when I twisted and contorted to get a look up towards the sky through it, but beyond question I felt plenty of air rushing by, figuring from this fact it had to be clear enough to flow sufficiently.

Channeling my inner Hestia, I had the fire going in no time. There was plenty of newspaper right there on the hearth, along with kindling, matches, and numerous quarter-sawn logs. The kindling caught, the smoke was going up the chimney the way it’s supposed to, and the log was in a good position to ignite sooner than later.

From out in the kitchen I heard a teakettle whistle, right about the time I was moving the spark screen back into operating position.

Sara looked more upset than I’d ever seen her when I returned to her side (near as I could, which wasn’t all that much)—and I’d been with her when we were all captured at the traffic stop and imprisoned. “His pulse is sooo weak, and he’s well out of thermal regulation, near hypothermia! Isn’t there any kind of heater in this house?!”

Through glazed eyes barely able to focus, Dag shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Here’re your hot towels. Cleanest ones I could find.”

“Thank you, Rose.” She immediately applied the first one she grabbed onto his forehead. “One of you: get to the main house. We need multivitamins, zinc, separate D and C, liquid echinacea–”

Dag’s wrist grab again interrupted Sara. “Can’t swallow. Hhhhlll. Too broken. Hhhhlll. Done.”

Rose pushed boobs-first more fully into Nurse Sara’s territory, in order to get closer to her long-time neighbor and do what she thought needed doing. “What do you want, Dag? What do you need?”

“I’ve had a good life. Hhhhlll. All good. Hhhhlll. Time to die. Hhhhlll. Make space for you.”

CRACK! the main log in the fireplace loudly popped, making all us Milk Maidens jump.

Once her nerves recovered enough to speak, after a deep, hitched breath, Rose lightly clamped her top left hand on his wrist, gazing into his eyes from a close distance and asking, “Any last wishes, Dag?”

“No!” yelled Sara, earning a lower middle right hand slap on her left front leg from Rose.

Using what had to be some of his last strength, Dag grasped each of their nearest hands, “Girls…. Hhhhlll. Young women. Hhhhlll. Be good to each other. Hhhhlll. As usual for you.”

“What do you want, Dag?” Rose repeated, more urgently this time. “Anything… that we can do.”

“Warmth. Hhhhlll. Body warmth. Hhhhlll. Last wish: Hhhhlll. Milk. Hhhhlll. Any of yours. Hhhhlll. Mutations don’t matter now.”

Rose whipped out Uddy before any of us could utter a word. “Pinnacle Premium Creamy on tap. Pick any teat ya like.”

I couldn’t see Dag’s face with Uddy nearly in it. Rose and Sara later told me of his highly reverent expression as his hands slowly reached out, working as a team to claim a teat (her lower right) and bring it to his mouth.

A highly feminine “Mmmmmm!” came out of Rose soon as he started suckling.

“Warm tentacle behind his back please, Tent? One or both of you please help me get his clothes off.”

“He’ll get colder!”

“They’re wet, Rose! Wet and soiled.”

All of Rose, Sara, and myself eased Mr. Nabbit out of his usual blue jeans, thick and warm outdoorsy plaid wool long sleeve shirt, and so on, casting them aside and following Sara’s instructions for hot towel and warm tentacle placement as he cycled between suckling Rose and pausing to gasp for breath. In true nurse form, Sara had no hesitancy regarding cleaning up his messy butt and nearby regions, liberally using the clean, hot towels until he was cleaned up to her satisfaction… nearly.

“Soap and water?” I asked her.

“I’ll get it. Please surround him with your tentacles, wherever it’s not in the way of his breathing or Rose, and however he’s good with it, and share as much of your body heat as possible.”

By the time Sara returned with liquid soap, rubbing alcohol, additional clean towels, and more, Dag’s gasping breaks were coming fewer and farther between. Based upon this information alone, one might infer that he was that much closer to his end. The opposite was true: he had longer spans of contented gasp-free suckling, and to me his eyes looked slightly clearer when he opened them. Much of the time they remained gently closed as he suckled.

{Birth to death} I thought. {Helpless babe to helpless elder.}

Relief spread over Sara’s face, soon as she visually checked in with her charge. “How’re we doin’ here?” she couldn’t help smiling.

He paused his suckling, turning his attention and grateful, limpid eyes to her, his hand reaching out to hold hers gently, “Thank you. Hhhhhh. Better.”

“Good! Keep going that direction!”

“I’ve got plenty more milk for you, but I need a teat change” said Rose.

“May I… try Tent’s milk?”

My 2 present besties looked up at me, apparently concerned I might for some reason refuse.

“Of course, Dag!” I smiled. “Teat or nipple? It’s the same milk from either place.”

His face briefly lit up as his slowed mind realized the import of my offer. “Nipple please.”

“You need a wee or a poo first, sir?” asked Nurse Sara.

“Can’t get up.”

“That’s why I have these” she smiled, holding up a scavenged bottle (for urine) and pan (for excrement).

He did make use of the first one (with a lot of help from Sara), after which I got myself into position for him to suckle without my smothering him in over-abundant boob flesh.

“Oooooooooohh!”

What can I say?: his suckling felt really nice. Really really nice, if you catch my drift. I’m so busty huge I couldn’t see his face, having to judge by feel and sound and most especially taking cues from Nurse Sara that things were OK.

🎼 Looove, Love, Love 🎼 my mobile announced to the room.

“Hi Helia.”

“I’m in the main house making some lunch and no one’s here. Where’d you all go?”

“We’re in Dag’s cabin. He’s near death. His last wish is for warmth and milk, so we’re doing what we can.”

“I’ll be right there!”

Click

Spreading love and soft warmth and healing people was right up there with the joys of milk and living in a big, soft body in the world of Helia Melonowski. The weight of her massive milk-laden udder landing atop her remote-controlled motorized wheelie board made it crack and groan slightly. {No time to express now!} she thought. {Must save Mr. Nabbit! Or at least say goodbye.} (She shared this with us well after the fact.)

Creeeeaaak

“Don’t break the doorway, over-milky lady!” Rose admonished just-arrived Helia, holding the front door of Dag’s cabin all the way fully wide open for her.

“I’m just my usual self” she explained as she struggled and squeezed through, “not overly milky presently.”

More fully warmed up thanks to the fire in the fireplace, my and Rose’s milk within him, intimate proximity with 3 warm mutant women, and most especially several of my warm nude tentacles running the length of his nude body and nearly encasing it, Dag seemed to be doing better. What was underlying his un-health and whether he’d continue to recover or would plunge back deeper and farther into death none of us knew.

“Your pulse is better” Sara smiled.

Nearly buried underneath my huge left boob as he was, Dag couldn’t see much of anything else. So far I’d successfully managed to hover above him just enough to keep safely from smothering him and at the same time allow easy and comfortable for both of us access to my huge nip.

“Hi Mister Nabbit! It’s Helia, up near your head. If you’re happy with Tent’s milk, that’s wonderful. Just want you to know that I’m here too now, and my very rich and creamy milk is available if you want it.”

I felt his hands struggling to push my massive mam away, immediately bending back upright to literally get out of his face.

“Will you be offended if I switch to Helia?”

“Not at all, Dag. I need a minute or two to move myself out of the way and still keep my tentacles on you, warming you up.”

“Maybe you should move entirely out of the way and recharge yourself closer to the fire, as I’ve been doing this past nearly half hour.”

Have I told you lately how bossy my BFF girlfriend lover Rose tends to get? Her point was more or less valid, even if I’d wished she’d used more tact making it. To this day I’m amazed that Dag wasn’t already dead when we arrived: his thermal regulation failed so severely that his body nearly sucked most of the heat out of my tentacles. Then again appendages like those and arms and legs (for those of you who have those) tend to run cooler than the body core, from lesser blood circulation—especially when lying still.

Hot mama (in more ways than one) Rose wormed in behind Dag, slipping her couch-adjacent arms under him for full multi-armed Big Spoon cuddling from behind.

This relaxed Dag enough that his excretory system had things to excrete. I’ll save you the play-by-play, only writing here that we all decided that the best move was my tentacles carrying him into the bathroom, with more compact Rose already in there to help guide him onto the toilet and hold him up. Stuff happened as it should, Sara cleaned him up and helped get him back into my tentacles. Rose was back on the couch, all freshly recharged with fireplace heat and lying in Big Spoon position, ready to receive.

After that detour, Dag was able to again relax fully without letting anything excretory out. This is where Helia moved in, hoping to heal him further with her milk, or if not that at least let him enjoy her whole other flavor. He asked to try each of a teat and nipple in turn, preferring the latter. I thought for sure she was going to either smother him or drown him from free-flowing let-down, but this is huge-boobed lactation expert Helia Melonowski we’re talking about: possibly more than any of the rest of us in the room, she knew what she was doing.

None of us timed it, but on an approximate basis Dag spent about as much time suckling Helia as he had me, and Rose preceding me.

During a breather from milk suckling, Nurse Sara edged into Doctor Sara (or at least Nurse-Practitioner Sara): palpitating his chest, feeling his neck lymph nodes, taking his temperature with an old mercury thermometer of his she’d found in his bathroom (and sterilized with the alcohol and cotton pads), and otherwise doing what she could with close to no equipment to diagnose him. Her ear pressed against his chest had to substitute for the stethoscope none of us had.

She looked me in the eyes, “92 degrees F, even after all this.”

“But he’s not shivering any more.”

“Let’s keep it that way. Go heat recharge yourself at the fireplace, and let’s have you and Rose swap again.”

“I’m warm!” Helia reminded us all.

Little did she expect that Sara would slip her hands under her clothes for direct tactile verification. “OK, if you think you can shape yourself around Dag so he can breathe freely and stay as warm as with Rose or Tent when they’re heated up, we’ll cycle you through too.”

“May I please try your milk too, Doctor Sara?”

“Of course, Dag. My boobs don’t lactate, so you may play with them but there’s no milk from up there on me. When you’re ready to drink, please pick a teat on my front udder, so that I may continue to watch over you optimally.”

Dag Nabbit oozed gratitude and reverence (and thankfully no actual fluids!) as he claimed Sara’s nearest supple teat on her front udder: her upper left. Her gasp of pleasure from his initial suckle was familiar to us all, from our individual same experiences.

Nurse-Practitioner Sara apparently felt that her best healing option in this moment was smiling at him and caressing his matted, wiry gray-white (with dramatic strands of near-black brown) hair. That, or she was deeper in her humanity, operating more on instinct. Whatever the case, we all felt the caring and love. Helia felt it enough to make her grin from satisfaction that the world was operating as it should.

Time didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter, other than healing Mr. Dag Nabbit. We stayed with him the whole day, knowing well it might be his last.

He repeatedly declined Sara’s multiple offers/suggestions that he consume some broth or soup or something other than our milk. The one time earlier in the day she and I discussed bringing in EMTs and/or maybe getting him to a hospital, his heart stopped—and I don’t mean that figuratively. No, Dag Nabbit was going to live his way by his principles to the bitter end, even if these selfsame principles made his end sooner and more bitter.

As the day wore on, one of us at a time at various times left to deal with stuff at either of our homes, fetch things, and so on. Striking was the one thing we did every day that none of us had to do on this one: express milk in Milk Palace, through the firehose into the old dump. If any of us had recently had blowout orgasmic sex, it would have been likely that we’d have generated too much milk for any one person—especially me. As it was, Helia made so much without sexual orgasms (as far as we know), she almost made more than Dag could take in.

His capacity for our milk was not of this world. I maintain that he had some sort of bad internal infection, which our milk flushed out for reasons unclear at the time. The problem with that theory is that infection usually equals inflammation which usually equals a higher body temperature, not lower. I did need to carry him into the bathroom a couple more times, which he preferred even for urinating versus lying on his couch.

By the time the sun set, Nurse Sara had him sitting up, still cuddled between various ones of us to keep him warm (and, yes, the fire was still going, maintained mostly by me, else by Rose when I was unavailable). His favorite arrangement was sitting on top of Rose and her warm, cushiony multiple boobs, with Helia and myself on either side, and Nurse Sara standing intimately-as-possible directly in front of him. He remained too weak to speak above a whisper or for more than a few words, though his labored breathing was nearly gone.

I remember laughing and crying at the same time when he broke one of many spans of silence with, “Best nursing team ever!”, using what little strength he had to pull us into a snug group hug.

“You young milk maidens better go now” Dag weakly told us, with darkness complete and evening having become night. “Ya don’t wanna be here when I croak.”

Sara planted her face nearly against his, insisting, “No, Dag: all your vitals are better. It‘s not your time yet.”

“It’s my time, dear” he stared back at her, equally insistent. Easing back against Rose so at least Helia and I could see his face too, he shared, “Best damn last day of life ever! And it doesn’t matter how the hell I mutate!”

“Don’t you want to stay with us?!” Sara cried (actual tears) and whined, clutching his wrist tightly at first then easing into a forearm caress.

“You’re all young women: new adults. Whole life ahead of you. Y’all have grandparents, ta do what I do in your lives.” He still needed to take an equally-long breathing break before he could continue. “This is great, this whole day. Perfect send-off! But you all need people your own age ta live with and love. Like ya already do.”

Sara became even more worked up, “Yes I do have grandparents! I love them and they’re fine, but they don’t do what you do in my life!”

“What am I ta you, Sara?”

“The good neighbor that saved our entire lake community from both the state and federal government! Saving Tent’s and Rose’s homes, so we all have a place to live!”

“Sara:” Helia gently touched her forearm, “Dag’s having a good day. Let’s all please keep it that way.”

“Let’s all heal him!”

It took Dag’s gentle touch with both hands to get her to pause her outburst and listen. “Darlin’: you’re the best. Great nurse. Doctor if you want, someday soon. But ya gotta come ta grips with the cycle of life.”

I can’t begin to sufficiently describe the energy flowing between these two, through hands and eyes. Dag’s need to recover his breathing enforced a long pause in his speech, yet there was not a moment of pause in their eye and hand contact.

“Matter is neither created nor destroyed. I’m dying, and what I am will be something else.”

“NO!”

His grip grew tighter, “Sweetheart: you have to let me go! Else you’ll make my passing rough, on me and your loving Milk Maidens.”

“WAAAAAAAAHHHhhhhhhh!” Sara exploded into tears, running back and forth in front of us briefly before charging off the short distance within the small cabin to what I’d later learn was Dag’s bedroom.

The rest of us continued cuddling against/into Dag, holding him up and keeping him warm. Sara’s crying echoed out to where we were, visibly upsetting Dag.

Helia turned to him, softly asking, “Will you be OK for awhile without me here? I’d like to try to calm Sara down and help ease her where you’ve been guiding her.”

“Please” he gasped, tears in his eyes.

Even with the bedroom door closed, Sara’s crying and related loud expressions crept into the main room and our ears. Closing the bedroom door was an adventure in its own right: Dag never had a need to close it, living alone, thus it needed persuasion to close. My long reach and strong tentacles allowed me to give it the needed persuasion from the comfort of my couch cuddle with Dag and Rose (now to the side of, rather than behind, him).

Helia ultimately failed to persuade our de-facto nurse-practitioner to let Nature and Dag’s nature take their seemingly parallel if not coaxial courses.

Taking a more directly confrontive approach (as she usually did), Rose’s attempt to convince Sara of the wisdom of letting Dag go produced far more noise and heat than results.

By the time I took my turn, Sara was so ready with her counter-arguments, she had me convinced to follow her path over Dag’s before I’d even figured out how to get all of myself into the bedroom and close the door.

“Sara wants to stay overnight and continue to share milk and anything else she can with Dag that he wants” I announced to the rest of the group from a visually front and center (and unfortunately heat-blocking) position standing in front of the fireplace, when Sara and I returned to the main room. “I intend to continue on as a heat- and milk-providing assistant as long as I can, returning home when it’s time for me to sleep since there’s not enough room for me anywhere here.”

“Wrong team!” Rose yelled.

Annoyed that she might have hurt Dag’s ears (as per their expressions were those of Sara and Helia), I wrapped Boob Worm up into a convenient tentacle and brought her over for a private conversation swiftly enough that she hadn’t had enough reaction time to fight me. “Has there been a single moment since you arrived here today where Dag did not enjoy intimacy with at least one of us?”

“No, and what’s that have to do with his wish to die alone?!”

“He’s being polite, and chivalrous.”

“He’s trying to save us all the trauma of witnessing his death rattle and him shitting himself thereafter.”

“Don’t count your dead Dags before you Nabbit!”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that just because Dag thinks he’s going to die tonight or very soon doesn’t mean he actually will, says the med student.”

Rose scanned my face up and down. “Alright. Put me back, please.”

“OK, but I need room to cozy up to Dag and explain it to him.”

“Good luck, duck!”

Dag’s sad eyes burned into me when I cozied up to him. He spoke before I had a chance, “One or more o’ you’s goin’ ta be traumatized for life, watching me die.”

“Dag: she might get back into nursing, or as you said become a doctor, or more likely a nurse-practitioner. If she does, we know she will see death in its real, raw form. Isn’t it better if she does it here with you when she’s young, and has all the rest of us around to support her as she works through it? Especially since I’m a med student too?”

“I don’t have the energy ta fight anyone about anything any more, Tent. Y’all do what you’re gonna do. But I’m gonna stare at all your damn boobs and udders and other stuff, and suckle as much milk as I’m offered ’til I can’t!”

{He’s feeling better!} I clearly remember thinking. “You do that, Dag” I grinned, caressing his forearm. “I can’t imagine there’s a one of us who’d hold back on anything you’d want to do that you’re still capable of doing. Care for some fresh warm milk from your choice of teat or nipple?”

When all was said and done, what actually happened is that we stayed well into the night, taking turns letting Dag suckle milk from each of us. The cabin was warm enough now and Dag’s metabolism stabilized sufficiently that we no longer had to surround him with body heat on all sides every moment to keep him warm. Any one of our bodies was sufficient, as long as we wrapped ourselves around him as intimately as was comfortable for him and us and let him breathe.

My vast physical extent gave me the greatest ease and advantage keeping him warm. For awhile I held him close to my core, wrapped and cradled in multiple tentacles, as Sara and Rose worked together cleaning and sanitizing his couch and the floor and other nearby surfaces. Though I said nothing whatsoever to this effect, basically I was cradling him like a child, as he suckled me like one. He still had most of his teeth, but was either too weak for biting else being mindful and careful.

Helia had a lot of soft, warm flesh going on, even if not as readily reconfigurable as my vastness. Her powerful expansive love field couldn’t be matched by any of the rest of us, so to the degree she lacked anything in terms of thermal warming ability with Dag, she more than made up for it with her advanced heartwarming ability. Sara and Rose re-made Dag’s bed with fresh linens whilst I tended the fire, during Dag’s and Helia’s longest cuddle and milk suckling turn.

Sara was so busy full-on nursing Dag in both the medical and milk expression senses that she’d yet to envelop him in a full-body warming cuddle.

Milk Maiden of least volume Rose needed to apply her worm-like ultra-flexible spine and more or less wrap around Dag to ensure enough skin contact to keep him warm. A loose single-turn wrap, to be sure: she’s more flexible than any standard human, but not twisty-tie hyper-flexible!

Helia was the first who had to give up and call it a night. Her attempt at a personal, intimate final goodbye with Dag nearly ignited another raging argument from Sara until Rose pulled her away and I purloined Helia, convincing her to word things more open-ended such that her goodnight could be read as final (as Dag preferred) or for this night only (as Sara insisted upon). I knew as soon as she put her loving heart into it that she could do it, and she did.

The rest of us were there another hour, by which point it was give-or-take midnight, so technically Dag Nabbit lived on to a new day. I made the mistake of mentioning this aloud, after which Sara was all over it like butts on piles: convinced that if she could keep Dag going one day at a time, she’d keep him going a long time.

I did my best restocking the fireplace kindling from outside (there were plenty of logs, and more than enough newspaper and matches if the fire again burned out) and otherwise following any of their instructions to optimize the cabin for a safe, clean, warm overnight.

While I’m sure my goodnight/goodbye wording wasn’t as good as Helia’s, having had an hour to think it through, I too left things open to interpretation. What I hadn’t counted on was Dag’s final words to me.

“Margie’s a beautiful name” he did his best to smile, reaching into my soul with his gaze. “Embrace it, and everything you are and will be, always.”

I was already crying when he asked me for a kiss. Unsure what he had in mind and too upset to think clearly, he got one on the mouth.

“You’ll see each other tomorrow!” Sara unconvincingly assured us, no doubt more to soothe herself than us.

Rose wormed her way into bed with enough wiggle to awaken me.

“What’s the word?”

“Tucked them into bed and ensured that the fire was stable enough to decay unattended.”

The idea of Dag dying from hypothermia woke me fully up. “How are they going to stay warm?!”

“Nabbit’s got an electric blanket he’s apparently too ‘frugal’ to have ever used, which Sara and I installed on his bed for the first time ever when we re-made it, along with several other layers of blankets. Not to mention the electric heater we blew the dust out of and tested, which looks old enough to have met Elton John in his 1970s prime.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t he have been using that if it works?!”

“He’s cheap, Tent! Cheap and stubborn and striving to be rugged manly to a fault. You’ve seen him in action; you know this!”

It was true. “So what time is it, anyway?”

“What, your iPhone’s out of charge?”

“Remember what happened last time I tried to grab it when I wasn’t fully awake?”

“That’s why it’s in a shock-resistant case.”

“Just tell me.”

She grabbed hers more quickly than I could have tentacle-groped around for mine, as I knew she could. “2:12 AM.”

“How was Dag when you left?”

“Ready for either a typical overnight sleep or the forever kind. Sara’s calling me if it’s the latter before daylight morning when we’re all awake and dressed and stuff.”

“Mrrmmph.”

“Goodnight to you too, Darling” she kissed me.

The sunny cold morning’s dawn came too soon for my liking.

{At least the phone didn’t ring} I thought as I laid still in bed, hoping not to awaken Rose and thereby be able to fall back asleep and not have to deal with anyone dying nor other drama. {Maybe she slept through it?}

The sound of Helia passing by in the hall on her way to the bathroom distracted me. She’s pretty quiet, but does tend to hum happy tunes without thinking about it. I was already back asleep before she finished in there.

Rose cuddled and kissed me awake some time later, which is about as subtle as she can be when she wants me to wake up.

“What’s the word?”

“Johannesburg.”

“No, seriously.”

“Seriously: you need greater sentence flexibility with your queries.”

“Dag: how is he?” I intentionally teethed Uddy’s lower left a touch on the hard side to get back at insolent Rose.

“No news is good news, with Sara over there.”

“Yeah, I suppose she’d either have called or come over here in a river of tears if he’d crossed over.”

“Euphemism much?”

Rose and I had lived together plenty long enough by this time for me to know there was no point debating her when she gets like this. I started easing myself out of bed, heading into the morning routine and the new day.

Rose and I heard more busy working/dishware noises from the kitchen than we were used to hearing, on our way there from the bathroom and bedroom. We soon saw why.

“This is a big spread, Helia” was my morning greeting to her. “We having guests over?”

“Good morning Milk Maidens Tent and Rose!” She shut the water off, hung up the dish towel, and wobbled her udderly over-full self over towards the very full dining table. “This is what Sara wants us all to eat and drink.”

“What? She’s our nutritionist now too?!”

“No no no Rose. She’s asking us to kindly partake of this specific meal to optimize our milk production to help Dag!”

“So he’s alive then?”

“Yes, Tent daaahhhling. (smooch!) So have your usual seats and let’s get digesting!”

“This isn’t going to come out in our milk for a day or so.”

“Go over and talk to her or call or text her if you want, Rose. I’m just doing as she asked.”

“What’s she having?”

Neither of us could see Helia shrug her shoulders behind her massive breasts when she replied, “Good question”.

Breakfast was tasty, filling, and had more going on than I can even remember to tell you.

In terms of what Sara was having?: delivery of some of most of the many things she’d asked Helia to make. You only get one guess who did most of the carrying (grrrr).

“Well the curtains are open, so that must be good” Helia noted on our walk over to Dag’s cabin.

“Windows are washed too, looks like to me” I added.

“It’s about time someone let a whole bunch more sunlight in there!”

“Did you not have enough breakfast to keep the crankies at bay, Rose?”

It wasn’t until she turned towards me that I saw the water in her eyes, “I can’t take too many more days of things being drawn out like this.”

Knock knock knock

“Come iiiiinnnnnn!” the lively, happy voice of Sara called out over the distance from inside the cabin.

I almost dropped everything I was carrying, soon as I saw Dag sitting up on his couch with Sara sitting on his lap!

Stop for just a moment and think about what that means. For a barely-dressed woman in a standard human body sitting on a nude man’s lap, for sure that would indicate an intimate connection anywhere between fleeting and life-long. When a humantaur with two huge udders does that on the lap of a man weak to the point of near death within the last 8 hours, that’s a big deal! She was seated atop him about as close to what a standard woman’s body would be (as her body was capable of), one arm around him (and his around her upper body), wide awake and glittery eyed.

Dag hadn’t recovered enough for his eyes to be full-out glittering, though there were moments of twinkle and they were again clearer than when I’d left near the horological start of this day. The fact that he could even hold the front of Sara and her very big front udder on his lap without passing out or passing away indicated significant improvement overnight!

“Nice pillow” Rose quipped, referring to Sara’s left glans holding Dag’s head up.

“It’s the best” he grinned—grinned, people! “One of two.” The other was atop her lap, where he could (and did) easily pet it (revealed to us when she pulled the warmth-preserving lap blanket off to show us/show off). His voice remained weak, though once again it edged stronger than any time the day prior.

“No judgement Sara, but how are you not crushing him?” I asked. “I mean, I know a thing or two about having a lot of body and therefore being very heavy.”

“My middle and back end are all on the couch, not on him! Ready for some different milk, Dag?”

He was, asking for Helia’s first.

This new day went a lot like the day before, other than Dag was most definitely ever-further from death, even if not his usual image of crotchety health. He again drank profound quantities of milk from each of us in turn in repeating cycles, deeply and intimately cuddling at least one of us to stay warm. Sara explained that his nudity and her near-nudity (she had her horizontal back and rear covered with a blanket) were for better heat transfer. There was enough thermal inertia from the stone hearth and the rest of the cabin’s building materials that having had a fire going for a cumulative full overnight and day finally had all of the main room warmed up enough to allow for nudity with interpersonal physical intimacy and blankets.

Removing fear of imminent death from the equation along with the bright sunlight filtering through the trees and the freshly-cleaned (by Sara) windows gave this day a wholly less frantic, fearful, and urgent tone: relaxed and comfortable… as long as we followed Nurse-Practitioner Sara’s instructions, when she gave them. Between his ongoing weakness and need to be suckling milk most of the time (with some breathers and other breaks), again Dag wasn’t much for conversation. We four Milk Maidens of the Lake, however, had no such restrictions. For us it was nearly a normal day of occasional chatting, being online on our handhelds, and otherwise being young mutated women friends and lovers.

Dag still needed help standing up and one of us to stabilize him, but with these minor aids he was again strong enough to go to and from the bathroom on his own, and take care of wiping and washing up (albeit slowly for the latter, with some shaking from weakness). All of us checked him out for health in general and mutations in particular. None of us found any of the latter, though to me his butt looked a little stickie-outie-back bigger.

He did outwardly waver between sicker and healthier over the course of the day, thankfully never heading back deeper into the former for any length of time.

Dag’s late afternoon bathroom break assisted by Rose gave me the opportunity to check in with Sara for the true story. I eased up close to her, asking her softly, “Any idea what’s wrong with him?”

“Malnutrition and dehydration are—or were—big parts of it. Beyond that, I don’t know yet.”

“What about getting him in somewhere for an actual diagnostic work-up?”

“Hhhhhhhhh” she sighed loudly, “Over his dead body. Literally.”

We had to leave it here on account of Dag’s return to the main room.

Nighttime departure was infinitely more tranquil than the night prior: odds seemed better than ever that Dag Nabbit would live to see another day. Helia and I took off for our adjacent home around 8, hugging him long in case it was the last time, but speaking and otherwise acting as though we’d see him tomorrow and thereafter.

Rose stayed another hour and a half, roughly.

“Status?” I asked when she returned home.

“Dag’s very happy that Sara’s overnighting with him again.”

“How does she feel about it?”

“She’s taking this whole nursing thing far too seriously.”

“Meaning?”

“She’s not unhappy being there with him. I mean, I want him alive and healthy too, but….”

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

“‘Nothing’ my prongy tentacles!”

“They certainly are, aren’t they? I have a place that needs one of those inside it.”

“You want him alive and healthy but…?”

“People and other animals age, wear out, and die. She’s railing against the inevitable, and I fear she’ll be emotionally hurt therefrom.”

I didn’t want to discuss this subject I’d brought up any longer, nor did I especially feel like slipping any tentacles into Rose. Bed beckoned; I answered the call.