Clues and Close Quarters

Sexual Investigations Book II, Chapter 7

Easing the elaborate clear drinking cup to her lips, Donna gingerly sipped cool milk. Swishing the fluid around her mouth, she considered the flavor and texture. Sweet, with just enough of a cloying feel to come across as proper milk. The sample, apparently all-natural and delivered by a recent new contact of Damien's, had been brought in that morning. Swallowing, she shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe if it's warm? I've only really ever had her warm."

Damien, sitting at his desk with a carton of a dozen bottles from the same supplier, nodded in a knowing way, hint of a smile on his lips. It vanished and he said, "That's worth a try. Here, allow me."

She handed the cup back, taking small pleasure in the brief touch of their fingers. His office inside Honey Land was well lit, the sofa cleaned since their encounter that morning. She sat in a chair before the broad wooden desk, wearing one of her more official outfits, a tight shirt, thick slacks, and long overcoat, shock pistol at her belt, comp-access choker round her neck.

The Honey Land owner stood. He wore a now-familiar style of skin-tight blue and green and purple shirt, with tight shorts that left his calves bare, and a thick belt he used to hold computer pads and a stylus. Refilling the glass with a portion from the bottle, he stepped to the small work station he maintained for minor gene-fix tweaks, assisting his servants, and personal projects. Donna admired his form as he moved, wondering if perhaps he'd be persuaded to waste another hour or two.

Placing the cup on a square plate, he tapped some controls. The metal glowed, raising the liquid to the appropriate temperature. Donna accepted it, smiling up at him, and then took another sip, again doing her best to really taste the milk. Cloying, warm, with a hint of sweetness. She swallowed. "It's no good. I doubt even a milky could tell the difference." She pursed her lips. "Maybe I should have a taste gene-fix if I'm going to be doing this."

"Risky, those," Damien said, grinning. "Could get more than you bargained for."

"Oh?" Donna made a face. "They have them at the station. I could requisition a high-end type."

"Even worse," he added, his smile growing.

Donna fixed him with a look.

"Increased taste sensation means you get it all, Donna, down to microscopic particles that usual scans might miss. It can really ruin the flavor of things, adding in all that insect dung, hair, dead skin cells, metallic flavors of busted up nano-particulate remains from the fixes..." He raised an eyebrow. "And it might not stop with just food and drink. People too. Skin isn't what you'd call clean, chemically speaking. And the fix might just leak over into your sense of smell. You couldn't imagine what kind of things you can pick up."

Narrowing her eyes, Donna sniffed a long and deliberate breath. Her nostrils trapped hints of the milk, of the hard, waxy scent of the bottle, the rubbery plastic, dried wood, tangy metal comprising his desk, and a musky, sweaty, moss-like smell from the man. That one in particular caused a stirring of her fember, not helped by the note of his spicy cunt-juice. She even caught a faint whiff of her own sweat, mixed with a hint of pre-cum. Both again, fainter, from the couch where they'd fucked and their bodies. She listed all this out and shrugged. "Works fine."

He nodded, impressed. "You've got a good one. Or you're used to it. Maybe it would work out, but I suspect things are different in your mouth, Donna."

She gave him a wicked smile. "Have I given you the impression I don't like things in my mouth?"

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair.

"Though, it does sound like you're speaking from experience."

"I experimented in my youth. And you needn't take my word for it, Donna, ask some of my guys and girls. Talk to some of the hardcore milkies." Damien shrugged. "Some of them learn to like the increased sense of taste, I hear, but it can be a rough start. Most go back to their normal tongues after a few days."

"Easier to just take a sample down to the station and have forensics go over it anyway," Donna said, shrugging. "We have records on my partner, should be some way to find a match." Which would be easier if Matt had a sample of her actual milk. She winced. He would have, if Donna hadn't finished off the supply she'd had left over shortly after learning Renata was missing. Not that I had that much left, only a couple bottles Boxer was keeping.

"I'll have this one packed up for you," Damien said, indicating the lone bottle atop his desk, still mostly full. "I'm clear to use the rest?"

Donna stood, glancing at the tall clear bottle bearing some unknown woman's milk. She nodded. "Sure, I'll get this back to the station. Anything else?"

"Still keeping an eye out," Damien said, shrugging.

Donna smiled. "Thanks." She left his office, doing her best to not become distracted as she strolled out of Honey Land's main room, avoiding patrons and servants and the various sights causing urges in her fember. She boarded Betsy and set the SquadCar on a course for the station. On the way, Donna said, "Standard patrol configuration, Betsy."

"Ugh," the AI answered, "must we, Donna?"

Grinning, she said, "Yes. I have to be sneaky. You know that."

The machine groaned then dourly said, "Looking like a fork lift fucked an old, off-color American flag is hardly my idea of sneaky."

Donna chuckled, but the SquadCar did as ordered, and she watched the center console display, showcasing estimated exterior views of the vehicle. Curving lines shifted to that of a standard patrol vehicle, adding lights on the top and sides and front, and obvious indicators for the weapon mounts and field-generators, even the wells for the anti-grav generators. The colors turned from a dark mix of green and purple to the black, blue, and white of a police paint job, in precise, angular bars around the exterior. The process only shifted her seat a little bit. Technically it was dangerous to modify a vehicle while being inside, but Donna was familiar with most of Betsy's configurations, and the AI was quite practiced in making such changes.

Betsy delivered Donna to the passenger dock at the station, and then zipped off to find a place to hide her shame in the vehicle bay. Milk bottle hidden within her long overcoat, Donna stalked into the station proper, eyes alert, scanning every officer. Those wearing uniforms didn't concern her, as her chief targets were fellow plainclothes officers of a very particular identity. Twins, in fact. Susan and Sally had promised her they'd let her know when they had any leads, but as of five days ago, after she'd exposed them to Renata's technique, they'd been hounding her for sex. If they caught up to her too often, she'd never get anything done.

And so Donna avoided the vehicle pool. Or not, at random. The twins were smart enough to watch for her at the public dock higher on the building too. Today she'd lucked out, and the auburn-haired matching women weren't waiting at the main entrance. At the first available chance, Donna ducked into the emergency-use stairs. Mostly only extreme fitness nuts or those with something to prove used them regularly, so despite being well-lit, the tall winding paths were completely empty. Donna's boots clanged on metal plates as she made her way down, deeper into the station.

So far the twins hadn't thought to check for her in the stair wells. Donna imagined them catching her, having to rut the pair to submission on a chilling, metal plated landing. Her fember stirred, growing stiff at the brief fantasy. At the same time she drank in that very subtle feeling that always accompanied such thoughts: marveling at the power she wielded. Renata's technique, which was coming easier all the time, gave Donna such sexual prowess she couldn't help but enjoy putting partners out. Donna was beginning to know what Renata, a true master, felt when she exercised those skills.

Clanging down the steps, Donna thought wryly of her secretive course, I probably shouldn't sleep at the station. Twice Susan and Sally had ambushed her at the communal bunks shortly after waking, and Donna had been forced to fuck them silly before she could get on with her day. Donna grinned, knowing exactly why she stayed: she wanted to get caught by the pair, and this little hunter-seeker game of theirs added an interesting, unusual spice to their encounters. Even the twins enjoyed it; Donna had seen that in their eyes once, when they'd spotted her with hungry looks of victory, laced heavily with obvious lust.

But today she had actual work to get about. Renata was still out there, probably being milked for all she was worth. And not in a sexy way.

The twins could "catch" Donna after her business was finished. She slowed at a particular landing, grabbing the door handle. Built for emergency use, the portals here didn't function with any kind of energy driven sliding or turning mechanism. Good old elbow grease only. Popping the thick door only a little, Donna glanced into the hall. Two petty officers were strolling there in their sharp blue and black uniforms. Both gave her an odd look. Donna grinned, and stepped into the hall, quickly looking both ways. No sign of the twins.

Whistling, she made her way down two halls and into the forensics department. Donna found Matt in his chemical lab, sitting before several analysis computers, going over details from other divisions or other cases. The wide room had several experiment tables and medical bays, a few alight with blinking computer components, as the man operated experiments according to the needs of other officers or his work. The rest of the wide room was dark, as Matt preferred, leaving a sinister looking pool of light around his desk. He glanced aside as she emerged from the darkness, giving her a slight nod. "More milk?"

Donna drew forth the bottle, placing it on his desk. "Yeah. Any luck on that genetic reconstruction?"

"Still proceeding," he said, staring at his displays. Donna noted various concerns relating to DNA, gene-fix components, and a chemical analysis from a crime scene. Matt said, "I should have a matching sample today, maybe within the hour, though it may not be exactly accurate. We're shooting blind in the dark here, Donna. Constructing a secretion from gene records is hardly an exact science. If it weren't illegal, I would simply clone her first. That would produce better results."

Donna winced. Renata would not react well to that happening, knowing how protective the woman was concerning her natural heritage. Donna crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up a little in the process. She felt her mood slipping, as it always did when she talked about Renata lately. This case had already gone on too long. "I'm sure you're doing your best."

"It's an interesting project, that's for sure," he said, then looked at her, leaning back in his chair. He stood, taking up the bottle. Donna followed him to a storage locker behind where his experiment desk sat. He opened a cooling unit and set the bottle of milk beside a dozen other samples she had collected. Each was marked with the date of acquisition, where she'd found it, the name of the supplier in question or donating woman, if possible. Donna had found every one by checking three dozen milk bars, and the small number of samples was only because natural, non-gene fixed milk was so rare. Few men or women wanted to waste the time or go through the effort (or had been as lucky as Renata was to have a natural, effortless bounty) to maintain production. Just get a gene-fix, and have your body do all the work. Easy.

She eyed the bottles of white fluid, stacked in neat rows, and wondered which, if any, had come from Renata's amazing tits. Donna licked her lips, clutching the memory of those enormous orbs, of sucking them, of plucking the nipples and glorying in the spray of milk every which way, all while Renata gasped and moaned like a whore, mind utterly lost to pleasure. Donna soured at that bit, knowing she'd caused this whole mess by trying to cure the sexy German blonde. And not for wholly altruistic reasons either.

Donna started at Matt's hand on her shoulder. He said, "We'll find her, Donna. No matter how important this Darkness character thinks they are, they're not going to outrun the law."

Chewing her lip, Donna nodded. She resumed staring at the milk bottles, even after Matt closed the door to the cooling unit, which was not clear. Shaking herself out of it, she glanced at the chemical expert. "You said an hour, then you'll be ready?"

He shrugged. "For the first recreation. I doubt it will work. I've laid down five attempts at growing the appropriate glands through various methods. Only the fastest will be done today, the rest will be ready tomorrow."

Donna nodded, still a bit energized from thinking about Renata's tits. She said, "So, you've got some time."

"I do, at that." Matt brightened. "You can help me with an experiment."

Donna made a face.

"You'll like this one. Follow me."

Leading Donna out of the chemical labs, Matt took her down a level and into the morgue. Feeling a slight discomfort, Donna said, "Uhhh, Matt?"

"Don't worry," he said, glancing back as he pushed open the swinging doors leading into the first chamber. "There's no one here. And I mean that in both senses."

Donna nodded, relaxing a bit. Murder happened in 27th century New York, but it was a rare crime. Few had cause to steal, but relationships didn't always end amicably; sometimes they ended explosively. Sometimes people just didn't get the help they needed until too late. Matt stepped around pristine examiner tables, some accompanied by dormant rounded robots armed with tools for exploring corpses. In the dim conditions, even to Donna's gene-fixed eyes, the medically clean surfaces gleamed when they caught the blinking blue, red, or green lights of computers.

And I thought his lab looked like some evil overlord's domain. Donna shivered, and whispered, "This is creepy."

"I know," Matt said. His shadowed face grinned back at her. "Isn't it great?"

Somehow his excitement wormed into her as he led them into an adjoining, smaller chamber. Carefully closing the door, he walked along a wall of large square plates with handles and weakly glowing identification screens. He pulled out one, revealing a cramped bay for storing a body. Donna jerked to a halt. The tiny chamber had only a padded surface, leading into a housing that looked coffin-like, the sides simple plates, no cushions. Matt beamed at her, but Donna eyed the space skeptically. "We won't fit. I mean, how are we supposed to move?"

"That's why this is an experiment," Matt said. He raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want to find out?"

Donna licked her lips, realizing she did, in fact, want to find out. Her fember was already growing stiff as she imagined those tight confines, forcing their bodies together in darkness. And in such an odd, creepy place. She suspected there were regulations against screwing here, but that only helped encourage her in the wrong (or very, very right) direction. "Alright," Donna said, cheerfully, causing Matt to emit a light squeak of pleasure. They both stripped and eagerly climbed on to the spongy, padded surface, which was cool on Donna's skin.

She felt more than saw Matt's smile, and a lot more than that besides. Her fember rubbed at his crotch, where, like Damien, he had only a cunt. Their thighs, stomachs, and chests pressed together. Matt had something in his hand, a small plastic shape. She heard a click as he pressed a button, and the entire bay retracted back into the wall, leaving them in total darkness.

The slightest movement bumped something. An arm, a knee, her head, fingers and toes. And into harsh metal and plastic. Or somewhat pliable flesh. They grunted as they shifted, trying to get their activity going. Donna figured this was headed for failure, but her increasingly hard fember insisted this was a fuck she would finish if it killed her. Too aroused to abandon the plan, Donna shuffled as much as she could to align things, dragging her fember along his stomach, near his waist, finally against his inner thigh, all the while drawing cool lines of pre-cum over his skin.

"Yes!" she whispered triumphantly, sensing the head touch on the lips of his sex. Matt gasped with her as Donna entered him, thrusting as vigorously as the space allowed. Every pull back, her butt slapped the sides of the unit. Matt hugged her, and she him, giving them a little room to roll this way and that. Donna humped, thrusting her fember into his cunt, delighting in the parting of his smooth wet folds, and how they rubbed on her girl cock. Her cunt slicked, gushing fluid as she drank in the pleasure. That she couldn't see didn't matter, she could feel, and Matt's arms, his hands, most especially his insides, were enticing. Sounds of their breathing echoed in the tiny cramped space, mixing with the squishing of the padding and wet slap of genital contact.

Donna moaned urgently at blossoming heat in her shaft. "Cumming, Matt," she whispered in his ear.

"Fill me, Donna," he said, just as urgently.

She burst with his words, clutching him as her fember fired off, painting the inside of his cunt with hot sticky swaths of white girl goo. Donna groaned with the release. Somehow the odd confinement, which made her arms and legs sore from the strange, furtive motions required, made the orgasm feel all the more enjoyable. Like an accomplishment, at least, more than usual. She relished that sense, panting with increasingly heavy breaths. Thoroughly excited, she barely paused before starting again, working her hips against his. Now and then elbows and shoulders and butts and feet collided with harsh cold metal, but far from reminding her how strange this was, it only enticed Donna further.

She accumulated sore spots from banging in the bay, but before long she was fired up again, anticipatory heat tracing the length of her fember. The tip burst, launching spend into the man's cunt, filling him with her seed. The wet, smacking sensation of their sexes meeting echoed in the small space. Matt licked her neck while she fucked him. Donna chewed on his earlobe, light love bites. Her hair, matted and sweaty, clung to her neck. Their bodies were confined in such an intimate way Donna had trouble keeping herself still.

Quick, jerking motions soon saw her well on the way to a third climax, her fember rubbing inside his cunt as his arms explored her body. The random grunt or sharp exclamation of pain merely flavored the encounter, a reminder of how near they were forced to be. Donna gasped as she sensed the coming her next orgasm, but she had the presence of mind to avoid the tumblers, somehow that sort of control did not seem proper here, in his closed-in space. Her girl cock grew almost painfully warm as orgasm came upon her, and she blasted herself inside Matt's pussy once again.

This time, as they rested in preparation for more frantic fucking, Donna felt Matt's legs and arms shift, and then she slid from him, drawing out copious volumes of her cum. His head left its position on her neck, leaving her cool with sweat. "What--?" she whispered, and even that quiet tone was loud inside the bay. The cramped space was hot with their breath, and sticky from their sweat, the padded cushioned warmed by their fucking.

"Trust me," Matt said, his voice growing oddly distant. "I'm flexible."

Using her hands to explore his body, and occasionally block his movement and causing a groan or barked command to move, Donna soon realized his plan. She didn't know the how of it, but it seemed to be working. She barely dodged a knee, then sensed his thighs around her head, instinctively sticking out her tongue. It tasted the sweet wetness of his cunt lips, and then Donna felt a hand around the base of her girlcock. A tongue touched the tip and Matt started sucking her off. She returned the favor as his waist fell, leaving her with no choice but to eat him out. Tongue ready, Donna fully indulged, sucking on his engorged clit, still largely drenched in her own spend.

She hungrily devoured his fluids, which flowed rapidly when he came. Donna's own orgasm was building under the delicate, deliberate sensations from his tongue, and from fingers on her balls or exploring her cunt. She moaned as she ate him out, delighting in the feelings growing in her shaft. Finally, cum burst through her, firing out into his mouth. Donna humped his face, hips thrusting on instinct. She held his thighs around her head, mouth buried in his pussy, tongue and lips working madly for every inch of pleasure she could provide.

Somewhere in the middle of her seventh or eight orgasm, Donna wasn't quite sure, circumstances seemed to change. Matt had somehow changed position again, returning to an arrangement that allowed Donna's fember full access to his warm, slick cunt. She was rutting, clutching to him, and barely noticed that her jerking motions failed to cause any pain. She'd gotten used to, incorporated into her pleasure even, the odd banged elbow or knee. But there hadn't been any for some moments now. Too concerned with her pleasure to care, she kept thrusting, dragging her hard fember in and out of Matt's cunt.

He groaned as she fucked him, and Donna moaned into his ear. Clutching tight, she whispered, "Cumming, cumming now!" Donna humped hard, pushing herself deep at the last instant. Her fember exploded inside Matt, pumping a load into his cunt, pouring out her white girl goo. She gave a long, loud sigh and relaxed, and again noticed her arm didn't bump the side of the enclosed space. As orgasmic energy fled, and she regained some sense of her surroundings, Donna noticed the bay had been pulled open.

Soft white lights came on, revealing Donna and Matt locked in a tight, sweaty embrace, their bodies covered in cunt juice and cum, hair matted and sweaty and sticking to skin. Twin giggles made Donna blink to awareness, and she saw a woman standing next to the bay, oval face, shoulder length auburn hair, blue eyes. Grinning, Susan said, "Just a tip: next time turn off the lifesign indicators. You tripped a system flag."

"Yeah," said another, matching voice. Donna glanced to the other side, sighting the second twin on her right. "That made this too easy, Donna."

"Damn," Matt mumbled, "knew I forgot something."

"Huh," Sally said, sounding surprised. "This was your idea, Matt? Didn't know you were such a naughty little boy. We might have to visit chemical forensics more often, Susan."

He looked up at the twins, trying a smile. "I'd love if you two didn't mention this anyone."

"Relax," Susan said, "Donna's morale operations are off the books right now. Cap's orders."

Matt gave a relaxed sigh, and the two spent a few moments locked in their last embrace, enjoying the afterglow. At least, until the twins pestered Donna for their turn. Reluctantly, they parted, and Donna and Matt cleaned and dressed. Donna arranged to see Susan and Sally in their office just as soon as she was finished with her official business with Matt. They eventually left, but not before asking a few questions about how exactly their experience had played out, and with the answers, eyed the storage bays with interested expressions. Donna and Matt returned to his chemical lab, and he immediately checked over his machines.

At her inquiry, he said, "Looks like this one is ready. Get one of those samples, and I'll set up the test. That part shouldn't take long. I should be able to do them all."

Donna fetched several bottles, finding Matt at a different station. There he poured milk into cups and put them in machines that twirled and shifted and shook, and then combined things in different ways, producing a variety of outputs. The displays revealed the resulting information, but Donna was as lost here as she was with finance. Matt seemed to know what he was doing, and before long gave Donna a long look. "No match on these."

"More?" Donna tried a smile. "While I'm here?"

After chewing his lip, he nodded, and Donna gathered the remaining samples and any supplies he requested from various storage lockers. The twins messaged her as an hour crept past, forcing Donna to practically swear she would be right up to see to them. Matt quickly ran the tests, checking each fluid against the sample he had his machine painstakingly wrought from only a DNA sample.

Tapping her lips with her fingers, Donna watched the screen. Various charts describing genetic interactions and the chemical composition of the milks seemed to line up, but she could not say what the coloring meant. Matt raised an eyebrow. Donna leaned closer, looking at the files. She glanced at him. "Did you find it?"

"This one--" he pointed at one bottle. "That could have come from Lieutenant Deckholdt. Now, Donna, this isn't exact. Don't get your hopes--"

An intense joy infected Donna and she shouted, "You did it!" Before she knew what she was doing, Donna was bent, surrounding the chemical expert in a hug. She drew him off the tall stool, which rolled away as she twirled with him. Matt stumbled along with her steps, all the while trying to soothe her. Donna could do little except imagine having Renata back, safe from whatever misery she'd endured. When she set him down, still holding him at arms length, Donna felt moisture in her eyes. She quickly stepped back, wiping them.

"Donna. Listen to me--"

Raising her arms, Donna said, "I know. I know it's not exact." She drew a breath, struggling to box away her excitement, and to explain her feelings fully. "It's just after so long, finally having a clue, the smallest clue, is-- Well, it means a lot to me Matt." Donna stepped forward, hugging him again. "Thank you for that. Really."

Scratching his jaw after she parted from him again, Matt eyed her skeptically. "Alright. Just so you know, this isn't perfect. Far from it. There's not a huge load of genetic markers in breast milk. Hardly enough for an exact match, it might not even be possible to narrow it down to one woman. All I can say is this milk could, conceivably, have come from our missing German liaison."

Donna nodded, reaching beyond him for the bottle. She read the details taped on the side, noting the location where she'd found the milk. Her eyes fell away as she considered the implications. For starters, all she had on this one was the name of the place. Donna hadn't wanted to throw her police weight around too much at such a lavish, wealthy establishment.

"What is it?"

Shaking her head, Donna showed him the label indicating where the milk had come from. "This one is the last I'd have expected to turn a positive. The last I'd have picked, too, if I'd had the choice. Upperside Udders is a high-end milk bar. District 2 is on the fancy side, and this is Level 6 we're talking, close to the surface. Seems too visible for using the place as a front to sell Renata's milk."

"Well," Matt said, clearing his throat, "as I said--"

"Milk-to-DNA matching is not an exact science. Yep. I was listening." Donna rubbed her chin. "Still, this feels right to me. And it gives me a direction." She smiled at him. "Thanks, Matt."

He tipped his hand toward her after touching his hairline. "Same to you, it was fun."

Donna smiled, growing stiff as she recalled his body clutching hers in the confines of the morgue body bay. She almost wanted to laugh, or shiver, at how creepy that was, and yet her memories were having none of it. The raw intensity of the encounter managed to brush away negative shadings. Or perhaps incorporated them into the fantasy, which was likely what had given Matt the idea in the first place. Either way, Donna was pretty sure she'd be trying that again.

Unfortunately, she thought with a grimace, walking out of the analysis room. Just another weird kink I've picked up. Been doing a lot of that lately. She'd found herself wishing for honey from the tit just the other day, likely due to her frequent visits to Honey Land. Brushing off errant thoughts on particular fetishes and how attuned to them she was, Donna made her way through the station to the Investigations concourse, finding the twins excited and ready in their office. Donna was glad to bring them something today, besides a big girl dick and ancient sexual techniques.

Once she'd satisfied the pair, and waited for them to recover, Donna asked them to check out Upperside Udders. She had a mind to do her own investigating, however, and next traveled to the station vehicle pool. Betsy met her, overjoyed that she could again transform into something stylish. Her curves came out red and yellow and orange swirled. Donna rode in the SquadCar back to Honey Land, and on the way she felt the beginnings of a plan. Crossing the usual boisterous crowd, Donna made for the stairs and Damien's office.

Inside she found the man sitting on the couch, dressed. Deirina sat in her open-front shirt. The slight ravenhead was reclined, four-breasted chest on display. Damien looked up from his work, pressing a gene-fix injector into the lower left tit. The woman raised her head from leaning on the back of the sofa, and smiled brightly. "Donna!"

"New flavors?" Donna asked.

Damien nodded, eyes back on his work. Unlike those ridiculous and dangerous tentacle monster gene-fixes, most modifications required a little more time to work. Hours were most common, but more elaborate designs required days to adjust a significant percentage of a body or form a complex biological structure. He was holding the injector, making sure the fix took, which technically could be injected anywhere. Donna supposed milkies did it directly on the breast because they just loved any excuse to touch the things, an idea she'd never blame them for. Touching breasts was great fun.

"Ice cream," Deirina said, excited. "It's experimental."

"How so?" Donna asked, intrigued. With all that she'd tasted in Honey Land the last week or so, she couldn't imagine any flavor was truly out of reach. That steak meal she'd smelled being tested on her first visit, even, had apparently been good enough for some people; she'd smelled it again three days ago. Either that or it was an actual steak meal; Donna hadn't bothered to look, and Honey Land served real food too. Crossing the small office, she sat in the chair before Damien's desk, turning her seat so she could keep an eye on the pair.

Deirina's lips formed a smile like she was about to share a secret. She blurted, "It comes out cold, Donna!"

Eyebrow raised, Donna asked Damien, "Yours?"

"Not exactly. It was something I heard a supplier going on about, but he couldn't make it work. We'll have to see if this takes, Deirina." He withdrew the rounded injector, wiping the end carefully and placing it among a case of his other tools. "Let it be overnight, Deirina, for the modification to settle. And remember to eat plenty of food."

"Right," the slight woman said, nodding.

Damien stood, looking at Donna as he placed his tools back at his work bench, on the other side of the room. "That milk check out?"

Donna glanced at Deirina, narrowing her eyes. Only Damien knew most of the particulars of the case, she'd keep the other servants she'd spoken with from asking too many questions with a mixture of idle threats, promises, and imposing declarations that the case was full to the brim with classified material.

Following her gaze, Damien nodded at his serving girl. "Deirina, better head out."

Standing and pouting the woman glared at him, then at Donna. "I can help. Damien's not really a milky, you know. He just manages us."

Donna frowned, causing the woman's defiant look to wither. As she padded toward the door, however, Donna changed her mind. She'd need to know more about milky culture, perhaps down to the intimate details, if she wanted to do some real undercover work. Waving, she said, "Wait, Deirina, stay. I doubt it matters that much. First off, Damien, what can you tell me about Upperside Udders?"

Expecting Damien to keep track of his competition, Donna was not surprised he knew a fair bit about the business. Suppliers were usually a close kept secret and in the case of Donna's mystery milk, it seemed that held true. Damien did not know where they got their natural supplies, if any. He knew one manager, though, and had lost (and taken) several girls and men from the establishment. Deirina knew little about the business side of things, but seemed an expert when it came to customers, knowing generally who like what, which flavors did well, and where certain types of milkies liked to hang. She'd even spent some time working the floor at Upperside Udders, but left because she couldn't stand the attitude of wealthier milkies.

In the middle of one of Donna's questions, the small woman blurted, "Wait! I know what this is. You're going undercover there, aren't you? That's why you're asking all these questions."

Donna made a face. The last thing she'd expected from Deirina was cleverness. The woman had always given an impression of being cheerful, exuberant, a little too bubbly, but at worst only a bearer of grudges and maybe a little too prideful. Definitely interested in her profession more than anything else. Yet now something in Donna's look made Deirina erupt, standing with a triumphant yell.

"Quiet!" Damien hissed.

She cringed, then smiled at Donna. "I knew it. But it won't work. No one will take you for a milky."

Donna gave her a look. "This isn't my first operation, Deirina. And you'd better be quiet about this."

Chewing her lip, Deirina said, "You could let me do it. I already know the territory. I know three managers, more than Damien, and I know some of the patrons. I can fit in perfectly."

"You don't know what I'm looking for."

"Well," the woman said, drawing the word out. "You could tell me."

Donna studied her, smelling a spicy scent of something alcoholic on her right upper breast. Undercover operations took time, and the last thing Donna wanted was to be stuck in one place for extended periods while Renata remained imprisoned somewhere. Having Deirina take her place could prove invaluable, leaving her free to ferret out additional leads or directly investigate the milk bar. She didn't worry that Deirina might not know Renata. Anyone would know Renata, the German woman stood out even when she was trying not to stand out.

Wary of breaking any more regulations than she already had, however, Donna drew a patient breath. She said, "First, you're getting a crash course on being a law officer. Second, we'll probably end up giving you some gene-fixes. Hair color, shape, height, that sort of thing. You might have to go down to just one pair of tits. Don't worry, we'll print your set-up as is before that so you can get a full restore afterward. That'll be on the department too. Finally, I'll have to clear it with my Captain. If he says yes, you're a go."

Despite wavering, clutching her lower pair protectively, when Donna informed her that her body would be sculpted for the assignment with a plethora of gene-fixes, Deirina had fully recovered by the time the speech ended. "Yes!" the woman said, pulling both fists down at once.

Donna sighed, sharing a patient look with Damien.