The Afrodiseum Library

Mick Yaeger was a thug. Always had been since he was a kid. When he dropped out of high school, he survived on the streets through his wits, tenacity and strength. Finally, after a lot of hard fighting, and not a little backstabbing, Mick found himself in a high position of a crime organization. He made sure that the crime boss of the organization could always count on him. He never took unnecessary risks and was always careful to watch his back. As a result, he was given the choice jobs. Ones that held a lot of responsibility, but also gained him a lot of prestige. So, it was baffling to him how things could go this wrong this fast.

Mick risked a quick glance over his shoulder. She was still there, and she was starting to gain. How the hell could she be keeping that pace in stiletto boots of all things? Not to mention knockers the size of a pair of Buicks. The weight of those things alone should stop her from running as their sideways movement should be tossing her into the nearest wall. But somehow, she managed not only to stay on course, but to also maintain her speed. Watching her was like watching the laws of physics being turned on their ears.

Mick turned his attention back toward where he was heading. There was an alley that led to a six foot high wood board fence. Mick grinned to himself. There was just no way a chick with boobs that massive could hurl herself over such an obstacle. Mick, on the other hand, could leap over it in his sleep. It wasn't long before the fence loomed before him. Mick planted a foot on a crate at the base of the fence. Using the push off to gain momentum, Mick planted his opposite foot on the brick wall running perpendicular to the fence at about halfway up its height. Then, he pushed off the wall and hooked his leg over the top ridge of the fence. Using his new momentum, Mick hurled himself sidelong over the fence. He landed rather awkwardly into a pile of garbage bags, twisting his ankle.

Swearing, he managed to haul himself up and limp part way down the alley. Mick knew there was a crowded bar across the street from the alley opening. If he could make it there, he'd be home free. Mick took a glance back behind him and immediately wished he hadn't. Soaring over the fence was a gigantic bosom with a medium sized woman close behind. She landed in a crouch, her pendulous breasts gently bouncing onto the pavement. She stood as if her massive mammaries weighed nothing. Mick realized that this was his last stand. Had his ankle not been injured, he would have stood a chance. There was nothing else for it. Mick drew his semi-automatic.

"Hold it right there, bitch!" snarled Mick. "You may be fast on foot, but I'm willing to bet you ain't bullet proof."

The woman stood still and eyed the gunman carefully. She had long, flowing, snow white hair which framed an elegant face holding dark, smoldering eyes and full, luscious lips. From there the beholder's eyes travel downward past bare shoulders with skin the color of rich chocolate to the largest pair of breasts ever beheld. Their size was breathtaking, and practically obscene. They were barely covered by two triangles of latex covered fabric. The rest of her wasn't anywhere near as impressive as her bosom, but she still cut quite the voluptuous figure from the waist down. Her arms were adorned with latex gloves that ran midway up her upper arms. The gloves were fingerless revealing nails polished in a color very close to that of her latex costume. The costume itself was nothing more than a latex leotard, and the thigh high latex stiletto boots were the same periwinkle blue color as the costume, gloves, nail polish and lipstick.

The woman straightened her spine, which thrust her impressive breasts further forward. It was all Mick could do to maintain his composure. Despite his fear, the sight of this woman was revving up his libido. He tried hard to ignore the bulge in his pants that was insistently vying for his attention. "I am Lactation Lass," said the latex clad woman in an authoritative voice, "and I'm here to take you down."

Lactation Lass' eyes blinked in confusion, until the thug's innuendo sunk in. "Why you low life bastard!"

She took a step towards Mick. Instinctively, Mick took a step back, forgetting about his twisted ankle. A sharp pain ran up his leg, and with a cry, he went down on his backside. There was nothing for Mick to grab to prevent his fall. However, since he was holding the gun in his hand, he automatically squeezed the trigger. At the same moment as the gun fired, Lactation Lass' first step had landed on something greasy lying in the alley. She immediately found her leg shooting forward from beneath her, and with arms flailing, fell back into the pile of garbage bags behind her. The bullet zipped just above her head and ricocheted off of the brick wall.

Mick recovered enough to try and take a second shot at Lactation Lass. A booted foot came flying out of nowhere and kicked the gun out of Mick's hand. "Shit!" yelled Mick as he wrung his offended hand.

"Now, you weren't planning on shooting my partner while she's in an embarrassing position, were you?" asked a voice. A shadow crossed in front of Mick, and a pair of red latex boots walked into his view. The boots led up to a pair of the shapeliest, sexiest legs Mick had ever seen. However, his eyes changed from lust to horror as he spied at the apex of the thighs the largest and most frightening bulge he had ever beheld.

The legs bent downward into a kneeling position revealing a trim and toned belly followed by an impressive pair of breasts clad in red spandex and adorned with white stars where the areolas would normally be located had those breasts been naked to the air. An impish grin and mischievous blue eyes were found on a spritely face. The head was crowned by a military style cap with a shock of blond hair peaking out from beneath the band.

Javelin sucker punched Mick across the jaw, knocking him unconscious. She stood and turned to Lactation Lass who was still flopping about in the garbage. Javelin shook hir head. "How the hell did you survive doing this before you met me?" She reached down and clasped Lactation Lass' arm. Then, with very little effort, Javelin hefted hir partner to her feet.

"I wasn't expecting him to run," huffed Lactation Lass, not from exhaustion but from frustration. "I hate it when they run. Look at me! This body was not made for running."

Lactation Lass folded her arms akimbo beneath her ample bosom. "I didn't say I couldn't. It's just not...comfortable."

Javelin stepped behind Lactation Lass and wrapped her arms about hir giant busted partner. "Awww, sounds like my little Love Boobs has a bruised ego."

Lactation Lass gasped and pulled out of Javelin's embrace. "Shhhhh! Not out in public for chrissake!"

Javelin laughed out loud. "You know, for someone with gigantic tits who goes around barely dressed taking down criminals by squirting breast milk down their throats, you are such a prude."

"Idiot, if the authorities ever found out that I'm...that we're...that you're..."

"Yeah, that," admitted Lactation Lass through gritted teeth. "Then, you'd go off to prison, and I'd be blackballed as a superhero!"

Javelin stood a head taller than Lactation Lass. S|he leaned over and gently kissed hir lover on the forehead. "You worry too much."

"Well, you know it's your own fault," said Javelin with a grin. "If you had just let me rob that bank, you wouldn't be stuck with me."

She had been a champion for the city for over a year now, and despite her unorthodox methods, the police were starting to take her seriously. She had single handedly brought down the crime rate fifty percent. The FCC was even allowing her hero name to be uttered on television without censoring. Things were going well for her, when she got a call from the chief of police. It seemed there was a new criminal running around who was not of the usual garden variety thug or gangster. This villain had impressive strength and could withstand gunfire without so much as blinking an eye. Even more strange, was that this criminal was as colorful in costume as Lactation Lass herself. Reportedly she wore black latex pants, black military boots and a pair of latex suspenders with spikes studded along their length. To top it off, she wore a black military style cap with a Venus symbol in black on a white circle and a red field, similar to a Nazi Party symbol.

The story from the Chief was that the police had the woman and her gang holed up in the Montgomery International Bank & Trust. It didn't take long for Lactation Lass to get there. She had long ago learned that there was no car made that could accommodate her tremendous assets, so she invested in a high powered sport cycle.

When Lactation Lass reached the bank, she found the front entrance being covered by several armed police officers. The Chief was the first to note her arrival and signaled to his lieutenant. The police performed a slow and controlled pull back so as not to tip the enemy off to the change in the situation. Lactation Lass slipped quietly through a side entrance that led through a small foyer which held an automated teller kiosk. When she entered into the bank proper, she met with the dominatrix thief's henchmen. The men were taken by surprise when they saw a huge breasted woman dressed in periwinkle blue latex appear to their right. They turned and aimed guns at Lactation Lass, all the while yelling a battle cry. Lactation Lass, however, was prepared for them. With practiced ease, she stripped the part of her costume that covered her breasts, or at least the part of her costume that made a valiant effort to do so. This action brought the men up short rather suddenly, mouths agape in awe. Lactation Lass quickly grabbed her breasts, one in each hand, and with a marksman's skill shot a heavy stream of her breast milk into the mouths of each minion. To prevent from choking, each man reflexively swallowed. The effect was immediate.

"Now," said Lactation Lass as she covered her nipples once more, "you will all put down your weapons, step outside with your hands raised above your heads and turn yourselves in to the nice police officers waiting outside for you."

"Yes, ma'am," chorused the minions in a dull monotone. Each man dropped his gun on the floor where he stood and headed for the front door with arms raised in surrender.

A strange sense of foreboding caused her to look toward the rear of the bank. Her eyes went wide as she saw the bank vault door sailing through the air toward her. Letting gravity do what it does best, Lactation Lass dove for the floor as the vault door went crashing through the glass curtain wall that covered the front of the building. Scrambling as best she could to get back up while whispering a fervent prayer that the minions had gotten clear of the building's entryway, Lactation Lass looked for the one person who could have possibly tossed such a heavy object.

She stood tall and strong in the opening to the vault with an evil smirk plastered across her face. She was just like the Chief had described her. The studded suspenders were the only things she wore for a top. The width of the straps were inadequate in covering the light pink areolas on her breasts. As Lactation Lass appraised her enemy, she noticed a couple of discrepancies in the Chief's description. The symbol on her cap wasn't the symbol of Venus, as she was told, but the symbol of Mercury, which looked like the symbol of Venus with devil's horns on top. The meaning behind that symbol made was apparent when Lactation Lass got a good look at the tight latex pants. There in front, despite hir overall feminine appearance, was a decidedly masculine shape, the size of which literally dazzled Lactation Lass.

"Ha, I knew they would send you in after me," sneered the hermaphrodite, "but we are going to play this game on my terms, not yours."

It was then, to Lactation Lass' dismay, that she realized that she had been staring at the criminal's crotch and not at hir face, where s|he was quite obviously wearing a ventilator mask. Lactation Lass' standard form of attack wasn't going to work on this one.

Lactation Lass blinked. "But, well, not to put so fine a point on it, you're a hermaphrodite."

"Ohhhh, I get it," said Lactation Lass as the light of realization dawned in her eyes. "It's a contraction of him and her."

Hir slapped hir face in disbelief. "Look, if we're done with the grammar lesson, can we get on with this. I have a bank to rob."

She lunged at Hir, hoping to catch hir off guard. However, since Lactation Lass was without her lactation powers, Hir knew that hand-to-hand was all that she could use. Hir sidestepped Lactation Lass and grabbed her from behind followed quickly by putting her in a choke hold.

Immediately, she kicked up off of the raised step before the vault opening and back flipped over Hir's head. Hir tried to maintain a hold on Lactation Lass but couldn't. Lactation Lass landed on a teller's desk, then lunged forward into a flying kick. Connecting right between Hir's shoulder blades, she sent hir flying into the vault onto a steel table bolted to the center of the room. Lactation Lass came flying headlong into the vault room landing on top of Hir.

With lightning quick movements, Hir managed to invert their positions. She then pulled out what looked like huge staples and impaled them into the steel table, effectively pinning Lactation Lass' arms.

Hir proceeded to do the same to her legs. Lactation Lass tried to pull her arms free but the weight of her breasts wouldn't allow her to gain any leverage. Hir sat on her legs so she couldn't get those free either.

"Now, as I said before," began Hir, "we're going to play this game my way." Carefully she reached behind Lactation Lass and began to unfasten her costume.

Hir pulled down Lactation Lass' costume until it was to her waist. Free from their moderate confines, her breasts fell heavily to either side of her torso.

"Well, I have to say, I am impressed," commented Hir. There was a different look in hir eye. Not the cold, cruel look of a criminal, but the fiery, passionate look of lust. S|he cupped a breast in each hand. As s|he did so, droplets of milk began to ooze from the nipples. "So, these are the so-called Juggs of Justice." S|he removed hir ventilator mask and tossed it carelessly aside. Then, s|he leaned over and began to draw soft circles around Lactation Lass' right areola with hir tongue.

"Mmm, I don't think so," purred Hir. "Look how large your nipple is growing already." She blew gently across the dampened skin. Lactation Lass gasped once more. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were sexually repressed." Hir tilted hir head and studied Lactation Lass' face. "I never noticed before, but your eyebrows and eyelashes are white just like your hair." Then, the sinister grin returned. "I wonder if all your hair is white."

"This cannot be happening!" thought Lactation Lass to herself, as Hir scooted back until s|he sat on Lactation Lass' shins. S|he then proceeded to pull Lactation Lass' costume down until it was about her knees.

"Well, dip me in chocolate and call me a sundae," exclaimed Hir. "It's white down here, too!"

"Look," said Lactation Lass with a tremulous voice, despite all the authority she tried to muster, "if you stop this now, I might be able to work something out for you."

"And pass up a chance to make love to one of the few people in the world who could survive me?"

Hir heaved a sigh. "As you might have noticed, I have super strength. Were I to make love to someone, I could very well kill that person in the throes of passion." Hir face turned dark. "Almost happened once." Then, s|he returned to her mischievous grin. "As you can imagine, I haven't had a good lay in quite a while. I plan to enjoy myself. With your strength being almost comparable to my own, this should be very rewarding."

Lactation Lass was silent. There was a far away look in her eye, as if she were lost in thought.

"You said you thought I might be sexually repressed," said Lactation Lass. "That's a pretty accurate assessment."

"I almost killed someone too, though admittedly it wasn't my strength that almost did him in."

"Ha, you almost smothered him with those boobs of yours, eh?" Hir smiled, but not unkindly. "Well then, I believe this will be good for both of us."

"That may be," said Lactation Lass, "but that won't change anything between us."

"We'll see," replied Hir cryptically as she leaned forward and kissed Lactation Lass' belly which sent thrills of pleasure up her spine. Slowly Hir made hir way down between Lactation Lass' legs. Lactation Lass soon found herself gasping for breath as wave upon wave of ecstatic pleasure overwhelmed her. It wasn't long before both were covered in the sweat of their exertions.

S|he slipped off the table onto the floor. Then, Hir reached down and pulled hard on hir latex pants. Then garment was designed to tear away with a good, hard tug without actually damaging the clothing. With the pants gone, the suspenders followed having nothing to support. All that remained were the military boots and cap.

"So, what do you think?" bragged Hir as s|he stood impressively erect before Lactation Lass. Lactation Lass' eyes went wide. She began to understand why Hir had problems with intimate relations, and fervently hoped that hir theory regarding Lactation Lass' strength would hold up in practice. "Here I come," s|he cooed.

Despite her earlier bravado and absolute certainty that Lactation Lass would come to no harm, Hir approached slowly and entered Lactation Lass carefully. The feeling was patently indescribable. Eventually, Hir's capped had given up its tenuous hold and made for the vault floor. The two lovers were matching rhythms and gaining momentum. It wasn't long before Lactation Lass reached orgasm, and in the process, ripped free of the two staples which held down her arms. In a fit of panic, Hir tried to move away from Lactation Lass, but she used her arms to prevent any escape. However, much to Hir's surprise and bewilderment, instead of attempting to subdue Hir, Lactation Lass continued to thrust her hips against Hir's body. At the next orgasm, Lactation Lass' legs came free which immediately locked themselves about Hir's waist. The two lovers showered one another with kisses as they rolled off of the table onto the floor and about the vault. Soon, it was Hir's turn to orgasm, yet when she tried to pull away, Lactation Lass refused to let her loose and pulled hir in more tightly.

"Don't you know anything," breathed Lactation Lass between kisses. "Hermaphrodite gametes are sterile."

They continued on that way for another hour before Hir found hirself completely spent. Drenched in sweat, s|he barely had the strength to lift an arm, and hir once proud member lay flaccid. Eventually, s|he fell asleep.

"Whew," breathed Lactation Lass. "Not exactly a text book method for taking down a criminal, but I guess my work here is done."

"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you set that up on purpose knowing I'd show up there to stop you," said Lactation Lass.

Javelin coughed once then cleared hir throat. "So, after we finish booking this guy, you wanna go for a drink?"

"You know I can't drink," said Lactation Lass. "After a few, I usually end up waking up in some weird place with people telling me stories of things I've done that I'd rather not know about."

"Ha! Don't I know it!" barked Javelin. "I've been one of those story tellers on more than one occasion. By the way, you make a great pole dancer."

"In any case," added Javelin, "you don't have to drink alcohol. They serve a nice cappuccino there."

Lactation Lass sighed. "Oh, alright. Honestly, though, I think you make the patrons nervous."

"Hey, if they can't accept me being a hero now, that's their problem," sniffed Javelin.

"Except that you keep having these little regression episodes," commented Lactation Lass.

"He was asking for it," huffed Javelin. "Anyway, that wasn't an act of villainy."

It wasn't very long before the authorities arrived to pick up their subdued captive. They had to awaken him in order to recite his Miranda rights, but soon the police were speeding him off to his destiny. Javelin led Lactation Lass through a series of back alleys to the Carousel Bar & Grill. This was a regular hang out for Javelin even back when s|he was known as the infamous Hir. Then, s|he would harass the customers and threaten the owner. As a result, the people who continue to frequent the place were still leery of hir.

As they stepped through the door, a tiny bell attached to the door above their heads announced their presence. Immediately, all eyes turned in their direction. The eyes lingered upon the two crime fighters, and after a tense moment or two, the patrons turned back to their drinks and private conversations.

"Right," sighed Lactation Lass. She noted that a smattering few of the male customers were still taking appreciative glances at her enormous assets. She was, however, used to such ogling at this point.

The two picked a booth with a standard bench on on side of the table and regular dining chairs on the other. Lactation Lass sat down in a chair. The last time she sat in a booth bench, they had to unbolt the table from the floor to get her out. It was one of those embarrassing moments that somehow got filmed and posted on a video site online. Javelin signaled over to the bartender. A serving girl appeared before them who looked rather nervous.

"Ooh, some of those spicy Buffalo wings would be nice," said Javelin, "and some home fries."

The girl nodded and dashed off as if relieved to be away from the table. The bartender appeared at the table. "What can I get you?"

"Just a Long Island Iced Tea, Rob," said Javelin. S|He glance in the direction the serving girl had gone. "New girl?"

Rob nodded. "Started yesterday. Now, don't you go scaring her off like you did the last one, Erica."

"Nobody has a sense of humor quite like yours, Jav," chuckled Lactation Lass. "I'd have thought you'd have figured that out by now."

Rob nodded to Lactation Lass. "Evening, Elle. You folks have a productive night?"

"We canned a couple small time thieves and maybe an organized crime figure," admitted Lactation Lass. "Won't know for certain until tomorrow."

"Well, things have certainly gotten quieter since you two started coming here. Especially with you keeping Erica in line, Elle." He thumbed over in Javelin's direction.

Rob was the only person who accepted the reformed Javelin when she first returned to the diner. When Javelin had asked why, his only response was, "I knew the whole time you were just someone cryin' for help. Looks like you got some." Since then, the three of them got along famously. Rob was the only person who called Lactation Lass and Javelin by their real names even when they were in uniform. As Rob returned to the bar to mix Javelin's drink, the serving girl returned with a tray. On the table she laid out a basket of large cut fried potatoes, a platter laden with chicken wings drenched in a spicy, red sauce, a plate of evenly cut celery stalks, and a small cup of Ranch style salad dressing. In front of Lactation Lass she set down a glass coffee mug filled too the brim with espresso coffee and warm milk frothed on top.

Javelin glanced at Lactation Lass' coffee. "You know, you could have supplied the warm milk yourself," s|he said with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, ha ha," deadpanned Lactation Lass. She took a judicious sip of her cappuccino. It was still too hot.

Rob returned with Javelin's Long Island Iced Tea. "You need anything else, let me know."

"Thanks, Rob," said Javelin and Lactation Lass in unison. The two looked at one another in surprise and began to giggle. The sound of their laughter seemed to dispel all remaining sense of tension in the diner. It was going to be a quiet night.

"So," began Javelin by way of preamble, "why did you decide to take me on as your sidekick?"

Lactation Lass paused in mid sip and looked at her partner. "Despite my comments to the opposite, I knew you weren't an evil person. Just a confused and bitter one."

"That's not exactly an answer," said Javelin while twiddling a celery stick between hir fingers.

"I think you already know the answer," said Lactation Lass in a quiet voice. "We needed each other."

Javelin smiled. "I just wanted to be sure that you knew the real answer to that question," s|he said. "That you weren't misleading yourself into some false sense of civic minded nonsense."

Judge Eileen Rensler was always considered one of the most conservative trial court judges in the region. So, it was no wonder that she was not happy about the case before her. She disliked freelance crime fighters. They were just slightly above criminals themselves in her book. They were, however, a necessary evil when the criminals themselves possess superhuman abilities. Such a case was only now being held before her.

"Erica Fulbright, also known as the self proclaimed villain Hir, you stand accused of several counts of armed robbery, assault, willful destruction of municipal and private property, and...," Judge Rensler cleared her throat, "indecent exposure. How do you plead?"

A tall, statuesque figure stood behind the defendant's table. S|He wore an orange jumpsuit and both hir wrists and ankles were shackled. This was merely a formality, as the chains presented no form of restraint whatsoever to the accused. S|He had, however, promised to be on hir best behavior. A promise s|he was determined to keep.

"So noted," said the judge with a sigh. "I must say that the plea arrangement which has been struck between the State and the accused is highly irregular, and one with which I fully disagree. However, there simply are no facilities designed to imprison one such as yourself satisfactorily with the promise that you will stay put and serve out your sentence." She took a deep breath. "Therefore, it is with much trepidation that I place you under strict house arrest under the care of the State. I believe you are familiar with your parole officer."

Erica turned to the public seating directly behind the bar on the prosecution's side of the courtroom. There sat a dark skinned woman with snow white hair and amazingly large breasts that were torturing every button on the dress suit jacket that she wore. Erica turned back to the judge. "Yes, your honor."

"Very well," nodded Judge Rensler. "Miss Taylor, I remand this...person into your custody. She...he...Erica Fulbright is your responsibility, now."

Elle Taylor stood up and nodded to the judge. "Thank you, your honor. I will do my best."

"That remains to be seen," muttered the judge to herself. She stood and exited the courtroom.

Erica looked at Elle with a measure of respect mixed with disbelief. "I...I can't believe you were able to work out a deal like this. How did you do it?"

Elle shrugged, "I sweet talked a few people. It's about time these boobs were good for something other than an oral fixation for the general populace."

Erica blinked. "You didn't use your powers, did you?" s|he asked in a low whisper.

"Certainly not," said Elle. "I didn't have to. All I had to do was take a few deep breaths. The rest, as they say, is history."

Erica couldn't help but chuckle. After filling out a few legal forms, the shackles were removed, and Elle escorted Erica out of the court building. She led Erica to a periwinkle blue motorcycle that was parked in front of the department of motor vehicles building.

"Find me a car that can accommodate these puppies, and we'll talk," replied Elle grasping her own breasts to emphasize the point.

Elle handed Erica a helmet. "Put this on. You may be bullet proof, but I'll bet you can still develop subdermal hematoma from a head injury."

Erica reluctantly donned the spare helmet as Elle climbed onto the seat of the motorcycle. After cranking the engine, she signaled Erica to sit behind her. "Wrap your arms around my waist," said Elle. After a moment's pause and a quick glance behind her, she added, "and watch where you point that thing."

Elle smiled. "That's what all the guys say." She revved the motor a few times before zipping out into the bustling downtown traffic. She actually didn't live that far from city's municipal district. After a half hour of ducking down side streets and through quiet neighborhoods, Elle pulled into the driveway of a modest bungalow.

"Ha ha," said Elle in a dreary monotone, but her eyes were crinkling with laughter. "As it so happens, my dad is CEO of Happy Cow."

Elle killed the motor and motioned for Erica to dismount. She pulled out a remote and opened the garage door. Then, she wheeled the motorcycle inside. "Come on in," she called back to Erica.

Erica looked around the garage and noted the usual detritus that littered the average garage. Old broken furniture, half empty paint cans, motor oil, and tool chests were all in attendance. "I was half expecting the Bat Cave or something," commented Erica.

"I'm nowhere near that high tech," said Elle. "Truth is I'm just winging it. Come here for a sec." Erica set her helmet on the motorcycle's seat and stepped over to where Elle was standing. "Gimme your left foot," commanded Elle. Erica was baffled, but complied. Elle attached a bright yellow ring around her ankle. "This device will help enforce your house arrest. A perimeter has been set up around this property. If you walk more than ten feet away from my house and yard, an alarm will go off at the nearest police station." She studied Erica for a moment as she let hir foot down. "Make no mistake. The reason you're with me is because I'm strong enough to deal with you if I have to. So, the police are most likely going to send SWAT after you, or maybe even call in the National Guard. That's how dangerous they think you are."

Elle scrutinized Erica's face to get an idea of hir mood. "I think you can be that dangerous, but I don't think you want to be."

Elle was relieved that Erica accepted her response without malice. "Look, if you don't want to spend the rest of your life with the law looking over your shoulder waiting for the day they figure out how to take you down, you're going to have to give them a reason to lose interest in you."

Erica looked stunned. "You've gotta be kidding. Why the heck would I want to do that? What has this stupid city ever offered me?"

"Look," continued Elle, "if you want the city to accept you, you have to give it a reason to do so. To get respect, you have to give it."

"True, but things have to start somewhere." Elle walked around Erica, studying hir appraisingly. "I know. You could be my sidekick."

"Nonsense," said Elle dismissively. "You just need a little training. Granted, we can't do anything until your house arrest is over. With good behavior, you could get you time reduced."

Erica looked at Elle. "I hadn't thought of that. So, you think turning me into a crusader for justice will make the people in this town like me?"

Elle shook her head. "I didn't say that. But they may just respect you. You hungry?"

Erica noticed that hir stomach had been growling. Clearly Elle heard it, too. "I guess so."

"Come on into the house, I'll fix you something to eat," offered Elle. "How do you feel about leftover pasta?"

"I'll eat just about anything, really," said Erica. "As a kid, I couldn't afford to be a picky eater."

Elle reached into the refrigerator and retrieved a resealable container full of spaghetti and tomato sauce. After propping open one corner, she placed the container in the microwave oven and set it to reheat. Next, she went to the kitchen cabinets and retrieved plates and glasses. "You're going to be living here for quite a while," said Elle over her shoulder, "so you might as well get to know where everything is. Get some forks out of that drawer next to the dishwasher."

"Who's to say I won't clock you over the head when your back is turned and make a mad dash for it?"

Elle set the plates and glasses on the table in the dining room. "Because you're not a bad person."

"And what have you done that's so villainous?" asked Elle patiently as she reentered the kitchen. "Have you ever killed anybody?"

"Ever tried to force the world to acknowledge your genius by creating some kind of doom's day weapon?"

"You're making this shit up, aren't you?" accused Erica. "I can't even program a VCR!"

"Like you don't know," spat Erica. "I robbed banks, jewelry stores, museums, big ticket stuff."

"Ok, ok. Maybe not a common thief," said Elle hastily, "but a thief nonetheless. Being a thief is hardly the stuff of evil. More like desperation, really."

"I'm beginning to have second thoughts about this rehab thing," grumped Erica. "Who knew you could be such a bitch."

"Oh don't be that way," soothed Elle, clearly not offended. "I'm just making a point here."

"That you won't run because you're tired of running," said Elle. "You're not evil because it just isn't in you. You're somebody who wants hir life to mean something, and I think you were starting to realize that being a thief and running around with those knuckle headed minions wasn't it. But, maybe, just maybe, being a hero to fulfill those needs that you so desperately need filling."

"Ooh, that sounded like the most wicked double entendre," said Erica with a mischievous grin. S|he got the desired reaction as Elle's cheeks began to burn with a reddish tinge.

"J-just get the damned forks, will you?" huffed Elle as she stalked into the dining room.

Erica chuckled to hirself. "You know, you're full o' crap, but I think I like you anyway."

"I can't believe you gave me nine kinds of hell that first week just for shits and giggles," complained Lactation Lass.

"I wanted to be sure you weren't just stringing me along for a while and then just turn around and abandon me," said Javelin with a shrug. "That's what most people do. Besides, you look cute when you get all flustered." This last she added with her impish grin making its reappearance.

"You know, that smile of yours could curdle milk," said Lactation Lass. "And I should know."

After a long while of silence, which was punctuated by the background hum of conversation in the diner and the occasional eating noise made by Javelin, Lactation Lass decided to pose a question. "How come you don't ever talk about your family?"

Javelin stopped in the midst of gnawing in a chicken bone. "What brought this up?"

Lactation Lass shrugged. "Well, I never hear you talk about them. And there are little things you say that don't mean much in and of themselves, but when I put them together, it makes it sound like your home life wasn't all the much fun."

Javelin methodically wiped hir hands with a napkin and propped hir head on the backs of her wrists. "No, I guess it wasn't. As you can imagine, I was born a hermaphrodite, but because of the way babies develop, everyone thought I was a boy. Originally, my name was Eric."

"Happened at about the time puberty hit," continued Javelin, "when my boobs started to grow."

Lactation Lass looked intently a her partner. "I take it your folks weren't too thrilled about it."

"Well, it turns out my mother always knew," admitted Javelin. "Mothers are like that, I guess. My father didn't handle it too well. Took to drinking. A lot."

Javelin shook her head. "It's not like you'd think. When my old man got drunk, he became apathetic and docile. He never really had a mean bone in his body, but it was obvious he didn't want to have anything to do with me. He blamed my mom for bearing him such a freak of nature. Mom became depressed. We stopped going out places. Eventually, we stopped visiting other family."

"I was pretty much alone. Once I understood what was happening to me, I was too ashamed to go out with my friends. I quit school. Stayed up in my room. Then, one day my dad came bursting into my room. I had never seen him so angry, but at the same time he had been crying. He kept yelling at me that it was my fault. I had no idea what he was talking about. He had one of his golf clubs. Tried to beat me to death with it."

"Pretty much what you'd expect if you tried that now," said Javelin. "You'd get a bent club. Boobs weren't the only thing I got at puberty. My abnormal strength and near invulnerability had also developed."

"Wait, you just manifested your powers?" asked Lactation Lass. "No accidental chemical spills? No genetic manipulation? No extraterrestrial visits?"

"You read too many comic books," said Javelin with a smirk. "Yeah, it just sorta happened. No explanation. At the time, I wasn't complaining."

"Finally, when the stupid club broke, my old man just collapsed into a pathetic, weeping pile. I decided to find out what he was so upset about. Best person to ask was mom. Unfortunately, she showed me all too well why my dad was so upset. I found mom hanging from the bedroom light fixture by her neck. She used one of dad's neckties."

"Oh my God," whispered Lactation Lass. She reached across the table and grasped one of Javelin's arms. Javelin covered Lactation Lass' hand with hir own in appreciation of the gesture. "I'm so sorry, Erica. I had no idea."

"Course not," said Javelin. "I've never told anybody. Well, except for one person. My old man eventually drank himself to death. Since I wasn't old enough to take care of things, and there was no will, the city took everything. I ended up on the street, which in retrospect, actually suited me at the time. I wandered around to the low places in town. Met all the wrong people. Tried prostitution for a while, but there weren't too many people interested in a hermaphrodite. So, I joined a gang of crooks and swindlers. The rest you pretty much know from reading my rap sheet."

Lactation Lass was seeing her friend in a different light. Now, she understood why Javelin was so interested in sex to the point where s|he bordered on nymphomania. S|He had lived without a loving touch for most of hir life. "So, who was this other person that you've told this to?"

Lactation Lass was surprised to see Javelin blush. Javelin wasn't embarrassed by anything as far as Lactation Lass knew. Yet, here s|he was sitting across from her with cheeks glowing. This was going to be interesting.

"Well," began Javelin hesitantly, "do you remember what I told you at the bank, where we first met?"

"You know, about how I almost killed someone when making love to her," continued Javelin sheepishly.

"I met her about a year before I started my...er...career as Hir," said Javelin. "She was actually into women and thought I was her type."

"That must have been a bit of a shock for her the first time around," said Lactation Lass with a smile.

Javelin chuckled. "She was mad at me at first because she thought I was a tranny."

"You know, transgendered," explained Javelin. "A guy who wants to be female so badly that he gets breast implants and hormone treatments to look feminine, but either doesn't have the balls or the money to get the genital change operation." S|He chuckled at hir own ironic statement.

"Says the lady with the giant boobs," quipped Javelin. "Anyway, she was actually intrigued once I explained to her that I was a herm. You know, true herms are extremely rare. I take some pride in that."

Javelin shook hir head. "I promised myself I'd never tell anyone else about her. She was a very special part of my life that I want to keep for my own."

Lactation Lass smiled warmly. "That's okay. I understand." She sipped her now lukewarm coffee.

"Yeah, you've never told me how you earned your Jiggling Juggs of Justice," said Javelin.

"Stop that!" fussed Lactation Lass. "I swear if I hear that on the news, I'll know exactly who to blame."

"You're avoiding the question," admonished Javelin while waggling hir finger. "Com'on, I spilled out my soul. Now, it's your turn."

"I'll be the judge of that," said Javelin leaning forward on the heels of hir hands ready to listen intently.

The automatic door to the food science research and development lab whooshed open as a young, dark skinned woman in a sweatshirt and jeans stepped up to the entrance way. Her sweatshirt, though large, was easily strained by the young woman's impressive bust size. While not exceptionally large, her cup size was considered well above average. In fact, she was the unwitting victim of early development as her breast began to grow at the young age of ten. A rare ocurrance, but not unheard of. The love and support of her family helped to smooth over the rough spots in her life cause by the teasing of pre-adolescent children and nervous adults. By the time she was in eighth grade, she was already in a C cup bra. However, as she grew to womanhood, her body appeared to have caught up with her bust line.

The young woman, who appeared to be of early college age, trotted down the center aisle of the lab until she reached the rear. To her left, two men were busy titrating a strange colored liquid into a beaker full of what appeared to be milk.

Bernard Taylor, founder and chief executive officer of the Happy Cow Dairy Company, turned and smiled at his daughter. "Dr. Bernstein is working on a new method of fortifying milk."

"But, doesn't milk already have the nutrients we need in it?" asked Elle Taylor slightly perplexed.

"The pasteurization process destroys some of the nutrients, Elle," said her father. "Also breaks down the proteins and B6 vitamins a bit. We want to build the nutrient count back up without changing the taste or the consistency."

"Or the color," said Elle with a giggle as she pointed to the beaker in Dr. Bernstein's hand. The milk was turning a day glow orange color.

"Not to worry, Mr. Taylor," assured Dr. Bernstein. "The color marker is used to determine how quickly the nutrient mix homogenizes with the milk. Any final solution will most certainly be colorless."

"Well, that's good to know," sighed Mr. Taylor with some relief. "Otherwise, we could only use it in the cheese," he added with a hearty laugh.

Dr. Bernstein couldn't help but chuckle as well. That was the thing about her daddy that always made Elle Taylor proud. He could always find the silver lining in any cloud. It was what kept his company thriving.

"We tried using other methods of pasteurization like ultra high temperature pasteurization and electronic pasteurization," said Dr. Bernstein.

"I'll pretend like I understand and just be thoroughly impressed," remarked Elle with a grin.

"Ultra high temperature is an even flash heating of the milk as it passes through a pipe," explained Elle's father. "The milk is heated to 280 degrees Fahrenheit for about two seconds. It does a better job of pasteurization than the USDA standard method, but it also does a better job of breaking down proteins and nutrients. The electronic method is actually radiation pateurization, but, well, we're a bit concerned about using it. It's pretty controversial. Most folks freak out when you mention radiation and food in the same sentence. Which reminds me, Doctor. Whatver happened to that fortified, irradiated milk sample we had?"

"I asked one of the interns to properly dispose of it," said Dr. Bernstein. "The fortification solution reacted strangely to the radiation process."

Mr. Taylor chuckled. "I haven't forgotten, pumpkin. But I did want to get the results from this latest batch. Why don't you wait for me in the commissary."

"Okie doke," chimed Elle cheerfully. She turned and headed for the lab exit. A short distance down the corridor was the commissary that served all the research scientists, interns and support staff. Elle went in and found it to be empty.

Elle opened the refrigerator door and found a single seving container of milk. The container was odd in that it looked more like a beer bottle than the usual type of carton or jug container. "Weird," thought Elle. "Maybe they're trying something new." She grabbed an apple and poured some of the milk into a disposable plastic cup.

Back in the R & D lab, Dr. Bernstein and Mr. Taylor were discussing the finer points about the newest batch of fortification solution. Mr. Taylor swished a mouthful of non-markered fortified milk and spat it into the sink.

"No, I'm afraid it still has an off taste," said Mr. Taylor. "Kinda like vitamin pills."

"That's the B complex vitamins," said Dr. Bernstein. "I think you'll also find that there's a distinct smell to those as well." He sighed. "I guess we'll just have to give up on the B complex fortification and stick to regular A, C and E vitamins."

Suddenly, they heard a scream. The two men looked at each other in shock. "That sounded like Elle," said Mr. Taylor. The men raced out of the lab and down toward the commissary. When they entered they found a very surprised Elle Taylor slouched in a chair. However, the very first thing one could not help but notice was the immense increase in size of her breasts. They had expanded to the point where the side seams of her sweatshirt, obviously the weakest point in the garment, had burst open to accommodate the increased mass. Her bra had snapped and was lying in tatters on the floor at her feet.

"I'll...stand watch outside and keep people from entering," stammered Dr. Bernstein. His face was flushed with embarrassment as he stepped outside the commissary and shut the door.

"I don't know what happened," breathed Elle with some difficulty. "I just drank some of this milk and then....this happened."

Mr. Taylor was sweating bullets. "Elle, we don't keep dairy in the R & D commissary in case of mishaps. I'm guessing you drank from one of our experiments."

"Oh wow," said Elle. She was still a bit dazed. "Guess it's a good thing you didn't go with this batch."

"This isn't funny, Elle," said Mr. Taylor in a stern but worried voice. "Where's the sample you drank from?"

Mr. Taylor veritably bounded over to the refrigerator and yanked open the door. He picked up the bottle, ran to the commissary door. 'Dr. Bernstein! I need an analysis of this milk sample immediately!"

"Right away," stammered Dr. Bernstein. He took the sample from Mr. Taylor and dashed back up the hall to the lab. Mr. Taylor, wiping his brow, turned back to his distressed daughter and noticed something peculiar about the remains of her sweatshirt.

Elle reached around her now monstrously sized breasts and noticed that her shirt front was damp. Quickly, in a surge of panic, she reach under her tattered shirt and felt droplets on her skin. Yet, when she withdrew her hand, the liquid clinging to her fingers wasn't red, like she expected, but a slightly opaque ivory color.

"I don't think so, Elle," said Mr. Taylor with a hard swallow. He watched as the dark splotches on his daughter's sweatshirt grew larger and larger. Soon milk began dripping from the remains of the waistband. "I think you're lactating."

"Calm down, Elle," said Mr Taylor soothingly. "There may have been some kind of hormone cocktail in that milk. When Dr. Bernstein has finished his analysis, we'll...know more."

"Damnedest thing I've ever seen," said Dr. Bernstein. "There were whole DNA resequencers in that stuff. I don't know where that milk came from, but I'll tell you this. It didn't come from this lab. I've got a geneticist friend of mine studying it. Don't worry. She'll be discreet."

"What about Elle?" said Mr. Taylor plaintatively. "How's she gonna go through life looking like some kind of human freak."

The two men were sitting on opposite sides of Bernard Taylor's desk. A bottle of scotch and to low ball glasses were in between them. After yesterday's turn of events, Mr. Taylor felt they both needed a stiff belt.

"She's your daughter," said Dr. Bernstein with a wry smile. He took another judicious sip from his glass. "She'll survive. If there's one thing I've learned working with you Taylors, it's that you folks thrive on adversity."

"Yeah, but this is...different." He kept his hands clasped about his drink, but for some reason he simply could not bring the glass to his lips.

Dr. Bernstein shook his head. "Not really. Lots of love and support is all she needs to get through this. Mind you, I'm gonna do everything I can to reverse this, but she may be looking at a lot breast reduction surgery."

Mr. Taylor looked up and blinked. There standing on the threshold was his daughter dressed in jeans and an oversized T-shirt that still managed to fit her snugly.

"Elle? How the hell are you standing up?" asked Mr. Taylor. "You couldn't even walk yesterday."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," said Elle. "Watch this." Elle walked over to a large cast iron safe. It had taken three men and a pallet cart to haul the thing into the office. Now, Mr. Taylor and Dr. Bernstein watched in awe as Elle bent down and hefted the safe up with one hand. She kept the rear of the safe braced against the wall to keep it stable.

"But...," stammered Dr. Bernstein, "that's impossible! That safe has got to weigh a ton at least!"

"That's not all," said Elle carefully putting the safe back onto the floor. "As you mentioned, I couldn't walk with the weight of these things on my chest. Not to mention the back pain was killing me. But now, I have no problems. They feel like they weigh nothing at all, and my back feels great."

"It's gotta be the DNA resequencers I told you about," said Dr. Bernstein. "Somehow, they've increased her muscle's tensile and compression strength. I wonder if they increased her bone density as well."

"Well, aside from the increase bust size, she doesn't look any different," said Mr. Taylor.

"Those kinds of changes are structural and wouldn't be seen," said Dr. Bernstein.

"Hey, guys," said Elle putting her hands on her hips. "I'm standing right here."

"Oh, sorry, Elle," said Mr. Taylor sheepishly. "Got a little carried away there. But, are you sure you don't want to try and get a reduction done?"

"Dad, I've had virginal breast hypertrophy ever since fifth grade," said Elle Taylor. "It doesn't matter to me what other people think. You taught me how to develop a tough skin. Besides, if my DNA has been rewritten, then no amount of surgery is going to reduce this. It'll just grow back."

"So, what next?" asked Mr. Taylor while running his fingers though his receding hairline.

"Well, I don't know about you," said Elle with a grin, "but I'm going on with my life. I'm going to college in the fall just like I planned, and I'm going to become a teacher just like I planned."

"Wait, hold the phone. You wanted to be a teacher?" asked Javelin in genuine surprise.

Lactation Lass nodded. "As you can imagine, no school would hire me. Parents complained that I was a prurient influence on their children."

"Oh, that's crap," snapped Javelin. "Lemme guess. All the parents who complained were women, right?"

Javelin shook hir head. "You weren't a puree-whatever on their kids, numbskull. They were worried about your influence on their husbands. Particularly, your influence on their-"

"But," interrupted Lactation Lass before Javelin could complete hir comment, "I dressed professionally. I wore suits and everything."

"If they looked like that number you wore on my court date, then you only made things worse," said Javelin with a chuckle.

"Hello? Did not hear those poor buttons on your blouse screaming in agony?" asked Javelin with a grin.

Lactation Lass pouted for a while, at first. "Yeah, well," she said eventually, "I guess you can't really hide these puppies, can you?"

"Yet that still doesn't explain how you decided to become a superhero," commented Javelin.

"Oh, no you don't," said Javelin. "You're not gonna weasel out of this one. Spill it. I wanna know what makes Lactation Lass tick."

"It's really stupid," said Lactation Lass sheepishly. "I mean, I'm glad it happened, but it was so embarrassing."

"Now, I definitely gotta hear this one," said Javelin with her malicious grin beaming across the table.

"Well, as I said before," began Lactation Lass, "I couldn't get work as a teacher, so I got a job with a temp agency as a clerical worker. It didn't pay much, an there were no benefits, but at least I was employed."

"It...was a long while before I could walk into the Happy Cow offices again," said Lactation Lass.

"No, my dad would fire any employee that looked at me funny," said Lactation Lass. "I had to stay away or else he wouldn't have any workers left. Luckily I was able to convince him to rehire the ones he had fired already. But, it was obvious that I couldn't work at Happy Cow. Anyway, I got this position at the mayor's office. I was two years out of college and my hair had already turned snow white. Another effect of the DNA resequencing. I was on my way to my position when I just happened to save the mayor's life."

Elle Taylor walked up Democracy Boulevard in her new flats. The heels she wore imply kept causing her to lose her balance. She was already gaining a reputation as an airheaded bimbo based simply on her massive bust line. She certainly didn't want to add klutz to the list of charming characteristics. She municipal building where she worked was just ahead. She hated climbing the steps to get to the front entrance. Why government buildings had to have so many steps in front of them, she would never understand.

Just then, a small motorcade pulled up to the base of the steps. Intrigued, Elle decided to stop and see who was getting out of the limosine. She was surprised to see his honor, the mayor stepping through the opened door. Several reporters, who had been camping out on the municipal building steps, were quickly running up to the mayor to ask him questions or take snap shots. Elle shook her head. Reporter and news photographer were two career choices she was never going to attempt. It seemed to her like you were giving up too much of yourself to do your job.

The squeal of tires caught Elle's attention. A beat up old sedan was making a mad dash to where the mayor was standing. Elle realized that no one else had noticed the danger. Without a moment's hesitation, Elle sprinted down the steps.

The mayor and his entourage, however, were caught up in the spectacle of a woman with an immense bosom running down the municiple building steps, her breasts swaying to and fro, mesmerizing all who watched. With a last minute push, Elle leaped to the sidewalk, bypassing several runs of steps. She dashed out into the path of the car and with a concerted heave she upturned the speeding car. Unfortunately, the laws of physics were still in play, and Elle found herself straddling the undercarriage of the car as it slid to a halt on its roof. Once the car's forward momentum cease, police swarmed the overturned vehicle and pulled the bewildered driver through the window and handcuffed.

Elle looked up to see the mayor, as well as the reporters and photographers, approaching. "Oh, uhm, thanks."

"So, are you some kind of superhero?" asked the mayor as he helped Elle step down from the car.

"She looks more like a porn star with that rack," commented a smarmy looking photographer. His insult received several audible chuckles.

Elle proceeded to crush the camera into small fragments. When she was done, there was nothing left but plastic pieces, glass shards and shredded film. Nothing in the pile was anything that remotely resembled a camera.

"Nevermind him," said the mayor nervously as he interposed himself between Elle and the stunned photographer. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know."

"Oh, no. I don't need anything, Mr. Mayor," assured Elle. "I really should get going. I'm late for work."

"No, no!" interjected the photographer. "That's quite alright. It was on it's last legs anyhow. I, uh, gotta go." He turned on his heels and walked briskly away.

"Well, I have to thank you again," said the mayor as he pumped Elle's hand in a hearty handshake. "I've been trying to get rid of that joker since my campaign days."

"Come now!" said the mayor. "Super speed, super strength, selfless action in the face of danger. You're a superhero alright. So, what do you call yourself?"

"Well, I was thinking that maybe I could do some good with these crazy abilties I've developed," said Elle reasonably.

"No, not that," shouted Mr. Taylor. "Lactation Lass!? How do you expect anybody to take you seriously with a name like that?"

Elle looked at her shoes. "Well, it was all I could think of at the moment. And you have to admit, it does fit."

"I am not going to watch my daughter make a fool of herself in public," shouted Mr. Taylor.

"Dad! Stop yelling at me!" Elle brought her fist down on the table, shattering the legs and causing the table to collapse. "Oh my gosh! Dad, I'm sorry!"

Mr. Taylor held up a hand, his universal request for silence. He looked at his daughter. "Are you really sure you want to go through with this nonsense?"

Elle blinked and uncharacteristically began to laugh. Mr. Taylor frowned at first until he reran his last statement through his mind. Then, he joined his daughter in laughing at the impromptu joke.

"Alright, alright," relented Mr. Taylor. "I know you. You're just like your mother. Once you get a notion in your head, there's just no stopping you."

* * *

"Well, I think it's a great name," said Javelin. S|He leaned back and drained her Long Island Iced Tea.

"You would," chuckled Lactation Lass. "Come on, it's getting late. We should call it a night."

"Aww," pouted Javelin.

Neither left any money behind since their costumes didn't allow for carrying much of anything. It didn't really matter as Rob refused to take money from them, but Lactation Lass always managed to find some way to repay him. After stepping out of the diner, Javelin gave hirself a great, spine cracking stretch. "I guess you're right," s|he said while stifling a yawn. "I am feeling rather beat."

"Not too tired, I hope," said Lactation Lass. "I'm gonna need help expressing my breast milk tonight. I didn't use very much of it and....why are you looking at me like that?"

"I am the luckiest herm in the world!" squealed Javelin. "Who else can claim they get to milk Lactation Lass?"

"Stop that!" huffed a blushing Lactation Lass.

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Lactation Lass & Javelin: Memories