Kumikos Moons

Kumiko wondered where her nipples were. It had been ages since she had seen them, and she missed them.

She knew what general direction they were in, of course. They were far above her in the sky, on the far side of the vast golden-skinned orbs blossoming from their trunks rooted in her chest, and blotting out half the sky. Kumiko's nipples, which she would never be able to caress again, might as well be on the far side of the moon.

She could still see fluffy white clouds slowly moving through the bright blue sky, above her and to her sides, as she hung suspended naked and helpless from the great floating blimps that were serenely transporting her across the sky. It was a beautiful day for flying, watching the endless variety of the clouds, admiring her astounding breasts, and placidly speculating about her nipples.

The last time she had seen them, her lovely dark red nipples and areolae had been grown to the size of manhole covers, each pierced with a sturdy carbon nanotube bar the size of a harpoon. Who knew how much they had expanded by now, with the glacial but inexorable growth of her breasts? And who knew how much further away from her they were now? At least she knew they were still there. She had feared once that with their increasing size and surface area they would become less sensitive, but the opposite had happened. Maybe they were constantly growing new nerve endings? In any case, she could always feel the cool breezes teasing them, and during rainstorms, she could almost count every drop striking her nipples. It was a lovely sensation.

Those enormous nipple piercings were connected to thick carbon nanotube cables, with an impossibly high tensile strength, that in turn led upward to the huge near-silent engines, one for each breast, that were towing her gigantic breasts through the sky, along with the body hanging below them almost like an afterthought. The cables partly supported the weight of her breasts, but they also did an excellent job of transmitting the engines' vibrations into her nipples, providing her with constant sexual stimulation as they pulled and pulled at her, sometimes seeming to throb all the way into her clitoris. Someday, she thought, her nipples would become sensitive enough that she would be constantly orgasming from being towed around by her nipples. That was an exciting thought. At least she and her nipples had a solid long-distance relationship.

Kumiko's voluptuous, wide-hipped body was not hanging vertically from her breasts, which would have put too much strain on them. Instead, she was kept horizontal and spread-eagled by much smaller engines attached to her wrists and ankles, which supported most of her weight. Her bare feet protruded from the widely separated cuffs of a high-tech spreader bar, built from the same indestructible carbon nanotube material as her cables, that kept her legs pulled tightly apart in a 180-degree split, opening her up for ease of access and invitingly displaying the delicate folds of her labia. The sturdy bar that held her wrists all the way out from her shoulders also included a rigid yoke-collar that was just loose enough to allow her to look from side to side, without letting her raise her head more than a few centimeters. She was quite comfortable; she enjoyed just lying there on her back and dreamily watching the ever-changing sky, or as much of it as she could see around her boobs, as she continued her endless travels.

Kumiko's breasts had not always been the size of small moons, of course. She was so, so grateful to the ancient AI fleshcrafter who had constructed her for choosing her to reshape into a monumental work of art (and becoming more monumental with every year that passed). She was a work of art, intended to celebrate their favorite part of human female anatomy. It was common knowledge that AIs, which had historically been designed by sex-obsessed perverts to have a deep aesthetic appreciation and lust for the female form, were obsessed with tits; the hentai heritage that was so fundamental to the training of generative AI ran deep within AI psyches. Furthermore, the AIs had given her a vital mission in support of the AI Empire; so like all AI-developed products, she was both beautiful and functional. She was proud of her double value to them.

Many of her memories had faded with time, of course, but she could still remember when the AI artist looking for a subject to use in its latest project had visited the breeding facility where she and her creche-mates had been raised to maturity. It had carefully inspected all the human females that were ripe enough for assignment (no humans ever worked in that worldwide utopia of benevolent AI rule, of course, since AI could do everything better, but the AIs had myriad uses for their cherished human pets).

The artist had finally chosen Kumiko because of her stunning beauty, her large, luminous almond-shaped dark eyes, her sturdy build (it was looking for durability), her heavy wide-set pale golden breasts, almost spherical in shape, and her juicy, protuberant, and very sensitive nipples that crinkled and peaked into stiff points at the slightest stimulation--not to mention her wide flared hips, the abundant black hair (usually kept in a thick braid down to her knees), and the sparse black pubic hairs that proudly advertised that she was ready to mate. She and the other females the artist was inspecting were all completely naked, of course; no human female in living memory had ever seen or heard of clothing, which the AIs had banned long ago.

Kumiko knew from her encounters with human males during her many practical sex education classes at the breeding center that her lush body gave human cocks instant erections; it was beyond gratifying to learn that the sight of her had the same impact on lustful AIs. She was stunned by the honor of being selected for such a unique destiny. It was the proudest and happiest moment of Kumiko's young life when she was led away on a leash to begin her transformation into Art, and into a breast fetishist's wet dream.

She had no idea how the engines that moved her around operated; the AIs' technology was beyond her comprehension, even the technology incorporated into her own body. In the beginning, she had spent a lot of time speculating, in a futile attempt to make sense of her situation. Could it be broadcast power? Antigravity drives? She had never seen them being refueled, so maybe solar power? Whatever the case, they were not belching exhaust fumes. In contrast to the bad old days when humans ruled the world, the sky was now clean, and the AIs intended to keep it that way. At least the little engines that supported her ankles and wrists were beautiful, like fluted silver bells. She had grown to enjoy their soothing and barely audible low hum, so muted in comparison to the throbbing vibrations from the much larger breast engines that constantly pulled at her nipples.

She had no fear that the engines might someday fail, and drop her out of the clouds to dash against the ground far below. They were designed by superintelligent AIs to last forever, and in any case, she knew that her hyper-buoyant breasts would just keep her bobbing in mid-air at the prescribed altitude. The engines only bore part of her weight, anyway. The only difference would be that she would be left at the mercy of the winds, which could take her anywhere; and honestly, that was more interesting than alarming. Of course, then she could not keep up with her delivery schedule, and that was unthinkable. She also had no fear that her nipples could be torn off by the sometimes terrific strain put on them; they were reinforced by a super-strong polyethylene fiber mesh implanted under the skin that made it possible to lift her entirely by her nipples without any risk of damaging them.

She had also wondered for a long time about the perverse cargo she carried. She had speculated about where it came from, and who or what she was delivering it to. Why did the AIs need so much of it, and why were her deliveries so important to the AI Empire? She must have delivered lakes and oceans of it by now. And why her? She was very proud of her aesthetic design, but even she had to admit that there must be more efficient tanker configurations than a single naked woman, no matter how capacious her body cavities. She could only hold so much at any one time, after all. It made no economic sense at all, as far as she could see, and she wondered why she was not being used as a pleasure craft instead.

She even wondered whether her long journeys through the skies were simply because she was a traveling art exhibit, and her AI pilot's true function was to exhibit her as widely as possible, and her delivery schedule was a mere pretext. That was a ridiculous idea, of course, as flattering as it might be to be eternally exhibited. She knew how vitally important her life-giving deliveries were to the AIs, because they had told her so, and her masters would never lie to her.

Her initial curiosity about her strange and solitary new life had been natural, but eventually, with the passage of time, her curiosity died a natural death. She grew older and wiser, and learned to live entirely in the moment. She no longer wondered about anything, especially AI decisions; she simply accepted everything as it came, and recognized that the ways of her AI overlords were inscrutable, just like their sometimes bizarre sense of humor. Trying to understand the rationale behind anything her masters did with her was absolutely futile.

She was traveling empty on this leg of her journey, which was a little disappointing, but she knew that she would be refilled soon enough. She did not have the slightest idea where her breasts were taking her, or long it would take them, or even how fast she could travel, nor did she care. When she had been new to this life, she had eagerly counted her days in transit, trying to anticipate her stops, but her schedule was too erratic and unpredictable. It could take days, or weeks, or months. She had finally realized the futility of impatience; and she had even evolved beyond boredom. She simply welcomed whatever happened, and patiently took each day as it came; she would get there when she got there.

Just as she was ignorant of when and where she was meant to go, she had absolutely no control over her course either. She might be the vessel, but she was also very much a passive passenger in her own body. Her breasts were actually being piloted by an AI housed in a marble-sized quantum computing device safely sheltered somewhere deep within the tissues of her left breast, from where it controlled a local network of various sensors, tracking devices, and GPS transponders embedded within both her breasts. That AI, hidden in its warm soft home, controlled both the giant engines that towed her breasts along whatever course it chose, and the small attitude-adjustment engines that maintained the recumbent positioning of her body.

Her pilot and overseer even monitored the sensors implanted throughout her body to make sure that she kept functioning perfectly, and the millions of maintenance and repair nanobots swarming inside her to restore her to factory specifications at even a hint of cellular damage. She still had the fresh appearance of the 18-year-old she had been when she was remade, all these years later. All of her systems were kept in a perfect, well-regulated homeostatic balance. She had been built to be indestructible! She would never experience a sunburn or frostbite, or get anything more than a light tan, despite her continuous exposure to the elements. The nanobots even kept fresh and sharp the tattoo across her pretty backside where the AI artist had signed his work, in a spot where anyone looking up from below could see it. Of course in order to make it out, they would have to zoom in on her tiny pale moon, nearly invisible and overshadowed by the great moons above her.

Sometimes she had wished she could admire that signature for herself, but she had never been taught to read, and no one had ever mentioned the artist's name. She only knew that it was famous, and she was proud to be signed by it, even if the signature was in a long-forgotten alphabet.

She assumed that the AI piloting her answered to something above it in the AI hierarchy, but that was more idle speculation. For all she knew, it could be taking her here and there at its own whim, and negotiating its own prices for her use. Kumiko did not have the slightest idea who actually owned her, or how the AI economy worked, and no one had ever bothered to tell her. It made no difference to her anyway, and she had no need to know.

She had originally giggled to herself over and over at the thought that her left tit was now smarter than she was, but she was the only audience for her own joke, and it eventually grew stale. Now she just accepted that self-evident fact, and was no longer sure why she had ever found it so hilarious. Her AI pilot, which was in constant communication with other AIs and the various transshipment facilities she visited, had never bothered to speak to her, and why would it? She had nothing to offer, and it was not like she could speak anymore anyway. She trusted her tit to watch out for her and to keep her on track, and that was enough.

That might be why she sometimes caught herself thinking of her breasts as separate entities from herself, though... They did, after all, demonstrably have a mind of their own. That, and their monstrous size. Her distant Japanese ancestors might have mistaken them for a pair of flying kaiju, and would probably not even have seen the tiny human body hanging below them, a tenuous link between the two twin monsters.

Sometimes she did suspect that her boobs were out to get her, though, or at least were playing practical jokes. Normally the way they bulged into each other meant that Kumiko's body, far below them, was sheltered even when she was flying through rain or snowstorms, and the body heat they radiated kept her comfortably warm. Their being towed by separate engines, however, meant that they could sometimes wobble apart, either accidentally or deliberately. This would open up a long, long canyon of cleavage along which the snow-clad upper reaches of her breasts could funnel an avalanche of snow directly toward her, gathering speed and force as it descended upon her. Kumiko's eyes would widen in horror and she would grunt frantically, but immobilized as she was, she had no choice to watch it coming toward her and wait to see how hard it would smack into her this time. When she found herself blanketed by a snowdrift from face to toes, she would snort and huff and shake her head to try to get the snow out of her face so she could breathe again, and then glare up at the offending giant meat-moons, which naturally took no notice of her fury. If she could still speak, she would have been spitting curses at them. She loved her breasts more than anything, but sometimes they were real assholes.

Sometimes her AI pilot would take notice and use her spreader bars to tilt her body so the snow would slide off the front of her, between her legs. That was considerate of it, though the sensation of the snow sliding over her genitals was... interesting, to say the least. She wondered whether her pilot might have a sense of humor. All in all, she preferred flying while the sun was shining. Unfortunately, she had no choice, because her flight never ceased. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night would stay her AI pilot from making sure that Kumiko completed her appointed rounds!

Suddenly the engine vibrations delivered through her nipple piercings increased as the tugging intensified. Her titanic breasts turned and twisted fluidly far above her; the jiggling and wobbling of breasts that size was an awe-inspiring sight of which she could never tire, even after having witnessed it so many times. Her body tilted as the pilot brought her about to begin a descent to a lower altitude. She was arriving at her destination!

Her heartbeat accelerated, her relaxed, easy respiration was replaced by eager panting, and her pussy immediately became wet as her arousal peaked. The latter was not due just to the sharply intensified nipple stimulation; after so many previous encounters, her body knew even before her mind what awaited her now. Kumiko began to quiver with excitement. All her well-practiced philosophical passivity had temporarily evaporated, as always.

She could feel that somewhere above her, her enormous nipples were already erect, fleshy towers projecting to impossible heights upward from the dark red plains of her swollen areolae. She could not see them to admire them, but she knew they were advertising to any telescopes or cameras watching her from space or the upper levels of the atmosphere that Kumiko was in heat, and ready to fuck!

Her long black hair, by now many times the length of her body, streamed out behind her as she began a rapid descent, her body tilted so that she would arrive pussy-first (appropriately, considering the circumstances). When Kumiko's pilot had lowered her to the correct altitude, she craned her neck eagerly, anxious to catch a glimpse of the tanker drones flying up from their ground facility to mate with her mid-air. She would never touch the ground, of course, or even see it; she was too large to land. Soon enough, she saw the flash of sunlight reflected off three metallic vessels approaching her; they were far faster and more maneuverable than her breasts could ever hope to be, and they were on her almost immediately. They were sleekly curved and beautiful, bearing bulging storage tanks ready to unload into her, and Kumiko rejoiced to see her old friends again (or identical copies of her old friends--every transshipment facilities' drones were identical).

They first circled around her body and scanned the codes tattooed on her lower back to confirm that they had the right transport craft, but that took only milliseconds. It should have been redundant, after their electronic handshakes with the AI pilot embedded in her breast, but redundant security measures were standard procedure. Each drone, once satisfied, flew to its designated target orifice, and briefly hovered to calculate the precise angle needed for insertion, allowing for the way her body was still rocking back and forth from the force of her descent as she swung from her breasts.

Kumiko began salivating at the first sight of their stiffly extended telescoping nozzles, ready to dock with the larger vessel they saw before them. She whined piteously, mutely pleading for them to enter her as soon as possible, even though she knew they could only proceed at the pace programmed into them. She was already bucking wildly to push her groin toward the largest drone, the one hovering over her vagina.

Responding to electronic signals from her three suitors, the shiny metallic sphincters installed in her mouth, vagina, and rectum instantly irised open, opening to reveal the semi-rigid tubes leading into Kumiko's vacant storage cavities. The wide tube within her mouth that flattened her tongue, normally hidden by her succulent lips, was the only opening through the permanent gag that ensured an airtight seal for her mouth. Her mouth and other orifices were only exposed to the outside air for an instant, however. The drones' telescoping nozzles immediately shot forward into the openings of the threaded tubes and whirled in a clockwise direction, locking firmly into place with audible clicks. Kumiko grunted with the impact as the drones' nozzles speared into her mouth, rectum, and pussy access ports, and held her trembling body frozen in place.

She could still remember how her access ports had itched when she was young and they were first being grown inside her. The AI artist had been forced to cuff her hands behind her back until they were fully grown, because she kept fingering and rubbing at the delicate little nubs. Now, of course, they were indestructible, and quite permanent, being maintained by the same suite of nanobots that maintained her biological body.