CHAPTER 8
NOVA
Zyren’s house is nestled in a copse of trees nearby, made of wood pulp like his office. The circular structure rings the tree’s trunk, and each room has at least one wall lined with hexagonal cubbies.
Natural textures layer throughout the home—woven jute rugs, dried flowers hanging from the ceiling, tables fashioned from polished wood.
The kitchen bears a strong resemblance to Zyren’s office, featuring a carefully organized wall of ingredients and a wide workbench with a variety of glass devices.
As I lean against Zyren’s chest, he holds my weight with one arm and uses the other in concert with his legs to prepare coffee.
Water comes from a spigot on the trunk side of the tree, and I assume Zyren has some sort of rainwater collection tank above us. It’s what I would do if I’d been pitched the problem as a Solver.
He holds a glass of cool water to my lips, and I drink obediently. Even without words, I feel his approval settle over me like a warm blanket.
The ache has returned to my hips, but it’s easy to distract myself from it when I focus on the warmth of his chest.
Zyren leans to set me down, and a pang of anxiety runs through me. Before I can even start to say Don’t worry, I’m fine, Zyren has already moved on, having committed to continuing to carry me.
“I’m sorry you can read my mind,” I mutter.
Zyren glances over at me. “Why is that?”
“Because you’ll see just how needy I am, and you’ll want a refund.” I mean it as a joke.
Zyren doesn’t think it’s funny. “I take this commitment very seriously, Nova.”
I don’t have a retort for that, so I just lean into his chest again.
You’re asking too much, I told myself when my past lovers recoiled from my constant need for touch. Pressure, warmth, massage—it all eases the pain, even if just for a moment.
You’re an adult, one boyfriend had said to me. I don’t think the amount of attention you want is realistic.
Well, maybe ending up the hucow pet of a wasp-man doctor isn’t realistic either, yet here we are.
Zyren fetches a mix of fruit and nuts out of the kitchen’s cubbies, laying most of it out on a wooden cutting board. Using his feet and his free hand, he deftly cuts a purple, round apple-like fruit, somehow making it look like a swan.
As he sets this in my hand and I marvel at it, Zyren continues slicing fruit.
“I didn’t give that to you so you could stare at it,” he says cooly. “You know how to eat, don’t you?”
“Wh… but it’s too pretty to eat.”
Without missing a beat, Zyren grabs the piece that makes the swan’s wing and shoves it in my mouth.
I make a noise of surprise, then reluctantly chew.
“If you like it so much, I’ll make you another any time you like.”
Warmth blossoms through my chest, and I think I catch Zyren smiling from the side of his mouth facing away from me.
I eat the rest of my swan, and when my hands are empty, Zyren fills them again with slices of red citrus.
Bright juice slides down my arm, and I hold it out straight, trying to stop it from running further as I glance around for a plate or somewhere to set the fruit still in my hands.
Zyren’s fingers catch my wrist, and his warm tongue slides up my arm, erasing the juice and sending my heart fluttering.
As I stare, stunned, Zyren cooly resumes his slicing.
A blush rises to my cheeks, and I eat the rest of my fruit.
Then, Zyren offers me a handful of seeds. They’re rich and delicious, and each one I eat only seems to make me hungrier.
I reach for a stack of fruit slices on the cutting board, but Zyren lightly cuffs my hand and clicks his tongue.
I gather my hand back to my chest.
“Those are for me,” Zyren says, putting one of the slices in his mouth.
“But I’m still hungry.” The whiny words slip out of my mouth, but there’s no reprimand in Zyren’s patient, steady expression.
“I know, little lamb. And you’ll be hungry until your breasts are full of milk again. You need to rest. Stay hungry for me just a while longer.”
“I’m sure I—” A panging ache runs through my breasts, and they’re already larger than they were at the hot spring, as if the fat from the seeds is going straight there. I rub my chest, adjusting to the strange sensation. Another painful pang makes me whimper. “Oh…”
Zyren lightly grips my chin between his thumb and first finger. “Don’t worry, little lamb. I’ll take care of you.”
“Will it hurt as much this time?”
“Not if you follow my directions.”
“Yes, doctor,” I breathe.
His thumb caresses my lip, and a shadow of a smile crosses his face. “That’s my good little lamb.”
Zyren prepares a nest of blankets for me, and before I can ask how I’m going to entertain myself, my sleepy body is already dozing. He puts on music, and while some of the melody progressions are strange to my ear, it’s still soothing.
Every time I stir, I’m offered something different—more fruit, another glass of water, a handful of seeds.
Zyren sits nearby, legs tucked tidily under him, reading from a leather-bound book with glasses perched on his nose.
Fuck, he’s hot.
Heat coils at my core, but I’m too sleepy to do anything about it.
My breasts ache. I roll over, trying to get comfortable, but the pain turns sharp and I whimper quietly.
Then suddenly Zyren’s warm hands are on me, kneading every tender spot
Relief spreads from his touch.
I’m not saying access to a 24/7 masseuse would have cured me, but it certainly wouldn’t have hurt. Maybe the ICSS didn’t try everything, after all.
A seed lands on my tongue, and I obediently eat it.
I completely lose track of time as Zyren slowly feeds me, massaging away the ache all the while. I have no idea how he has the patience for it, but I can only hope he finds the milk to be worth it, because this is heaven.
Eventually, the ache outpaces even Zyren’s soothing touch.
“They’re so full,” I moan, squirming as I try to get comfortable.
“I know, little lamb. They’ll get fuller.”
“But it hurts,” I whine. Then fear courses through me—I shouldn’t have said that aloud.
Zyren’s hand lands on my cheek, banishing my anxiety. “Thank you for telling me. That’s very good, Nova.”
I relax into his touch, even as the pain intensifies.
Zyren places another seed on my tongue, but I turn my head away.
“Nova,” he warns.
I tuck my head in apology.
“Trust me.”
This time, when he offers the seed, I eat it. A few moments later, another wave of tightness spreads through my chest.
“I want you nice and full for me,” Zyren says, voice even and calm. “I know it will hurt, but I want to use these sweet breasts to make as much milk as I want. Can you do that for me, little lamb?”
Those words pierce deep in my brain, and it’s like the polarity flips. Everything I feared, I now crave. I want my breasts full to the point of agony; I want to make everything Zyren desires and more. I want his hands on my face and my chest as I bear all this pain for him.
Pride and pleasure curl hot through my core.
“Very good, clever girl.”
“More,” I murmur. “Feed me more…”
“Greedy little lamb. Drink this first.”
As cool glass touches my lips, I expect water, but a complex flavor washes over my tongue. It reminds me of the nectar, but with a deeper flavor, like lavender. I catch the violet color at the edge of my vision and realize I’ve seen it before—dripping from Zyren’s stinger.
Knowing what it is, I drink the venom more greedily, craving that high. It’ll hurt later, but it’ll be worth it. Anything for Zyren. Anything to please him, to make him proud of me.
“Easy.” He tips the glass down, slowing my pace. “Slow and steady.”
My brow furrows into a pout.
Zyren smooths my forehead again. “Quit this trying, Nova. Just be. That’s all I need from you.”
My swallows slow and deepen as I relax.
“Perfect, little lamb. Just like that.”
Warmth spreads through my brain, and I’m not sure if it’s from Zyren’s words or his venom.
When the cup is empty, he eases it away from me, then wipes my lip with a warm thumb.
“The effect will be more gradual this time,” he says. “Stay relaxed as long as you can.”
His words filter through a blurry haze. “More,” I murmur, reaching for the glass. “I want more…”
“No,” Zyren says sternly, placing my hand back in my lap. “That was enough.”
“But I want m—” Heat suddenly ripples from my stomach. “Oh…”
“Deep breaths, Nova. Stay with me.”
Waves of heat roll through my body, tempting me toward urgency, but Zyren’s words and presence ground me.
“Ngh, so full…”
“Give me more, little lamb.”
My head tips back as another wave of growth stretches my breasts. Now that the venom is kicking in, the sensation is all pleasure. My nipples tingle, and hot milk drips along the undersides of my breasts.
“That’s perfect, Nova.”
With agonizing calm, Zyren leans over, taking my nipple into his mouth.
I whimper with pleasure, shaking, and Zyren’s hand settles heavy on my chest. My breath deepens, relaxing again.
He sucks gently, and my milk begins to flow.
Heat flickers at my core, echoing in my breasts and cunt. My inner muscles clench, chasing pleasure.
The venom works deeper. Muscle by muscle, my body goes limp. Heat and bliss rise around me like in the hot spring.
For that perfect, glorious moment, my body is perfectly comfortable and content.
Then sheer need hits me in a blinding flash.
“Oh, fuck…”
Suddenly, the sensation of Zyren’s mouth on my breast is too much to handle. I cry out, and I would squirm away if I could move at all.
Zyren’s hand slides up from my chest to wrap my neck.
The pressure doesn’t restrict my breathing, but it settles a heavy blanket over my mind. The overstimulation becomes bearable.
Zyren switches breasts, and it feels good enough to make me cum. But with the venom’s influence, all I can do is teeter on the edge, whimpering desperately.
“That’s it, little lamb. Let me hear all those sweet sounds.”
Those words send my mind blank with heat, and I surrender to the flood of pleasure.