“The effect of Mother’s Milk cannot be contained by steel and wire,” Eshabaar had whispered into his ear.
“Life will seep between the cracks.” Andrew swiped his identity card and walked through the door that passed into the living rock of the Laguna Mountain.
He stood on a steel staircase overlooking the sunken interior of the milking shed. It was dominated by an artificial lake filled with the undulating bodies of the Sacred Sisters. The lagoon spread from the gaping cave that led into the mountain and separated into dozens of smaller streams filled with the Sister’s rolling flesh. Esther had received the design plans from the ancient lips of Eshabaar herself. It was an exact replica of the internal structure of a breast, the differentiated brooks representing alveoli and milk ducts trickling from the mouth of the cavern.
The Milking Parlor of Eshabaar, the divine lake of the earth mother’s womb.
The Sisters were immersed in a warm milk bath that supplied them with the nourishment they needed to produce the Mother’s Milk. Huge quantities of oxytocin and other chemical agents were added to the fluid to stimulate their milk ducts. Oxytocin was biologically necessary for milk ejection, but it also contracts the female uterus during orgasms. The Sisters were in a constant state of heightened sexual excitement, and the milk bath gave them the capacity to have multiple climaxes that could last for hours.
They would coil their bodies around each other and suckle each other’s tits while the solution lapped against their engorged vulvas. Eshabaar claimed the deeper they succumbed to the nurturing milk and its sexual abandon, the sweeter the milk they would make. The proof was in the improved batches of Mother’s Milk they were currently draining from the Sisters’ constantly leaking tits.
A complex of clear glass tubes wound from the puckered flesh of their nipples and siphoned the milk to processing units in the parlor’s upper floors. Untreated Mother’s Milk could not be imbibed on its own by those unversed it its splendor. It was dangerous, and scientists needed to temper the volatile liquid with other additives. It was a constant struggle to find the perfect balance between exquisite taste and safety for the consumer. The suction ducts were gently latched over their areolae, and Andrew watched the streams of creamy milk being sapped from their willing breasts. Above the lake was the sophisticated network of mechanical tentacles that performed the impregnations that made the entire operation possible.
All of the women in the lake were brought here against their will, snatched from bars and alleyways in the city and forcefully impregnated by the tentacles. Eshabaar was adamant that living men could not fertilize the Sisters’ wombs, arguing that human cum was not powerful enough to inseminate the women and generate the precious milk. The arms were filled with a pulsing liquid that was mined in the heart of the primordial mountain. The earth mother called it the lifeblood.
“It is the oldest milk in the known world. It was here when the first mothers delivered life into the world, and it will still be flowing when all humanity is restored to the night’s embrace.” Nathan scoffed at Eshabaar and asked why they weren’t using the lifeblood to make Mother’s Milk if it was so fucking special. She simply smiled and assured him that no human would survive the lifeblood’s ingestion.
“The milk is too old, and man is too weak.”
While Andrew had moral reservations about the abductions, the women never complained for long once they had been plunged in the viscous bath. They would calm after a few hours in the company of the other Sisters, but they would still shiver in fear as they watched the tendrils approaching them.
Andrew had watched the snaking appendages separate the Sisters’ legs and slide between their thighs to penetrate their wet pussies. The women would thrash at first as the primal cum was pumped into their bodies by the impaling limbs, their protests drowned out by the churning fluid in the milk bath. But as the mysterious cum filled their uteruses they would relax again, and their yells would transform into groans of pleasure as they gyrated their cunts against the invading tentacle. When it was finished they would fall back into the arms of a senior Sister who would rock them gently until they fell into a contented sleep.
They became milk-producing machines, and the Thornes had profited tremendously from this delectable abundance. But the earth mother only honored this arrangement because of her holy offspring. She was a being unconcerned with wealth or profit margins. She allowed the Thornes to milk the women as long as they sent her beautiful children into the world.
“All I ask is that you find loving homes for my darling babies. Is that too much to ask when I give you a taste of the glorious infinite?”
Once the mountain’s seed was sown, the Sisters would show signs of pregnancy within a week and their excessive floods of lactation began in earnest. Their pregnancies were greatly accelerated, and in a given year any Sister could birth as many as six children. They were always healthy and radiant, and the orphanage was a necessary ruse to house Eshabaar's children.
When Esther first began this venture, the output of milk and children was small, but the passage of time had increased the volume of both. Now it was no longer possible to quietly release pockets of squalling babes into various waiting homes without raising suspicion. They needed a large home, and Children of the Mountain became a sanctuary for the earth mother’s flesh.
The Sisters’ may have been the ones who watched the crowns of the babes’ heads squeeze between their slick thighs, but they were only surrogates. The true mother lived in the center of the mountain, and her infrequent visits were periods of joy in both the milk parlor and the nearby orphanage. She would visit her children and hold them to her breast as she told them stories in forgotten tongues.
She was scheduled to visit the Sisters tomorrow, and Andrew could sense from the relative quiet of the women that they were anxiously awaiting their goddess’s return.
There were about thirty women in the solution at the moment, and many of them were resting with their eyelids fluttering on their milk-slicked faces. Most were swollen with pregnancy, their bellies distended and droplets of Mother’s Milk dribbling from beneath their suction cups. Andrew cast his eyes over the scrolling text rushing across the computer screens on the roof of the parlor and saw that no one was set to deliver today.
Good. I can enter the Sisters’ milky sanctum. As he stripped, he wondered how Emma would react if she knew this was where Mother’s Milk came from. With her tits, she would be idolized in this place. So much potential was locked within her breasts, and Andrew began to salivate as he waded out among the women.
A few moaned in ecstasy as they licked each other’s puffy breasts. Near the left of the lagoon, Andrew could see Trisha and Olivia stroking each other’s sensitive clits as the auburn-haired Trisha feasted on Olivia’s pendulous brown tits.
Olivia’s head was thrown back in wordless pleasure as Trisha’s lips engulfed her dark, distended nipples. The Sisters developed strong erotic attachments to each other, and their shared cycles of gestation and birth fostered a unique codependence and mutual love stronger than any human bonds. None of them paid Andrew any mind as he felt the soothing liquid passing his thighs and drenching his cock. The milk was thick and warm, and he briefly thought of his mother as he sunk in up to his lightly scarred chest.
Andrew ducked beneath the overhanging coils of the robotic tentacles as he zeroed in on Ramona. Aside from impregnating the Sisters and assisting with the deliveries, they were also programmed to intuit every last need of the pregnant women. Their movements were disconcertingly organic as they twined above Andrew’s head and adjusted the pumps on the Sister’s breasts.
Ramona was a red-headed Sister with gigantic breasts that constantly dripped. Andrew groin tightened as he ran his fingers over her light skin, and she looked at him with dark green eyes that reminded him of Emma Lake.
“Hello baby boy. Are you thirsty?” Her voice was guttural but tender, and she raised her wet fingers to an unoccupied breast and squeezed the fat nipple betwe
en her fingers.
“Yes, sweet Sister. I am thirstier than I have ever known.” His breathing became shallow as Ramona traced a finger slick with Mother’s Milk across his lips.
“You have much of Esther in you Andrew. That is why we love you. Now come to me.”
She pulled his head to her nipple and Andrew greedily latched on. Mother’s Milk spilled down his chin as he desperately tried to squeeze more of her pallid breast into his mouth. As bliss began to seep through his bones, he thought of Emma Lake.
I must bring her here and let her see for herself. I must show her the beauty of Mother’s Milk and drink from those perfect orbs…
He grabbed his throbbing cock and stroked it a couple of times. It was never harder than it was when he was about to fuck a Sacred Sister. Ramona knew just what he wanted, taking it first into her mouth and sucking powerfully. She took it deep and fast into her throat, and when he was about to come, he pushed her big milk-covered tits together, and fucked them furiously.
As his cum covered her nipples, he squeezed every last drop from himself then relaxed against her. Andrew spent the rest of the night comfortably submerged in the womb of the world.
Chapter Three: Little Soldiers
Nathan Thorne lay naked in the opulent canopy bed of his studio apartment, his knuckles coated with the hooker’s blood. The whore was on the floor beside the bed, her body bruised and her face unrecognizable. She whimpered softly as she gathered her clothes. He had called the agency and asked for his usual. Black hair, sharp bones, with a rake-thin body and dark eyes. He smiled to himself, wondering what Freud would make of his preference for the skinny ones.
Poor little Nathan wants to fuck his mommy. And then kill her.
Nathan rose from the bed and walked over to the dressing table. He regarded himself briefly in the mirror. Old scars traversed his torso and abdomen, their impressions the only imperfections on his flawlessly sculpted figure. He knew that plastic surgery could erase them completely, but what good would that do?
These wounds are like childhood friends you’ve carried for years. When you run your fingers along their fading edges, you read the secret history of your life. If you got rid of them, you would be killing a part of yourself.
He bent his head to a silver platter with five perfectly symmetrical lines of premium cocaine cut across its surface. He took a hit, the synapses in his brain singing as five little soldiers became four. He ran his hands through his greasy hair and clicked his jaw as the drugs performed their sacred magic in his bloodstream.
“M-mister…the m-m-money please…” The whore was finally dressed, and she cowered before him, wiping the blood and tears from her face. He felt a surge of sympathy for the girl, but he swallowed it down like bile and flinched with visceral disgust. Don’t show the bitch weakness. She cannot fool you. Beneath her skin she is just like the cows being pumped at Laguna. A sack of disgusting fluids and lies. A woman.
“Mister? Are you sure that’s right?” Four little soldiers became three and he stared at her with his dead eyes.
“Is that how you speak to your father? Now ask me again and ask me right.”
She whimpered and swallowed loudly, her cracked lips parting painfully as she struggled to speak, “D-d-daddy. Puh-please give me my m-m-money d-daddy.”
Her obedience softened him, and he smiled as he extracted the notes from his wallet.
“Now, here’s a little bit extra, darling. I won’t have it be said that Nathan Thorne doesn’t take care of his children.” He held out the fat wad of hundreds, and as she took it, he wrapped his fingers around her birdlike wrist.
“Needless to say, Daddy won’t take it too kindly if you go running your sweet little mouth about this. Wouldn’t help you much neither. I’m on the board of trustees of this fine city’s police department, so you aren’t going to find too many sympathetic ears.” He let her go and she ran from the apartment, the money clutched in her wet little hands.
Three little soldiers became two and Nathan walked over to the window and opened it, allowing the noise of the city to wash over his electrified flesh. His heart was beating like a sledgehammer as he gazed over the city lights, and he felt his life-force tuned to the grey frequencies of urban chaos. Cold steel and reflective surfaces: the murmur of industry: the smog coating the night sky.
This is your world, the apotheosis of the thrusting masculine drive for domination. You are not a slave to milk and flesh and the messy menstruations of bloated women. You are a man, and you deserve to stand above the pinnacle of your creation and feel it talking back to you in its dissonant tongues.
Killing the old bag actually wasn’t that difficult. Nathan liked to consider himself a crime aficionado. He always loved true detective novels and serial killer stories, and he had often fantasized about committing the perfect murder. But up until the incident with his mother he had never killed anybody. Sure, he had hurt a bunch of girls. Some of them he hurt very badly, in ways that they would carry for the rest of their slatternly lives. However, the fear of capture and imprisonment always prevented him from crossing the red line, but the Bloodhound’s call had stiffened his resolve.
His mother had known about his sexual sadism for years, but it was only when she saw Belinda that she finally gave up on her son. Perhaps it was the close resemblance Esther shared with the battered girl that made up her mind. Perhaps it was the burn marks on her tits. Whatever it was, the Bloodhound had overheard her talking to one of the milk cows about severing Nathan from the business for good. He had been paying Desmond to inform on his mother for years, and his loyalty had not gone unrewarded. The news of his mother’s plans to disinherit him infuriated Nathan, and that fateful evening he went to her bedroom with hatred in his heart.
When Nathan arrived she was still with Agatha, the blonde cow she had taken a shine to in recent months. It was her habit to have the cows brought to her bedroom in casks of treated milk. There she would feed on their breasts like a disgusting old leech while the cows moaned and sang.
How could she do this to the memory of Father? The Old Sow Eshabaar had poisoned her mind with the filth of her womb and you had no other choice but to punish her. Nathan waited for the cow to be carried away before he slipped inside and placed a cushion over his mother’s peaceful face. The bitch was stronger than he thought she would be, but after a few minutes of panicked groping, the life finally drained from her and her limp hands fell to the sticky bed sheets.
Nathan cried then, affecting a performance worthy of Broadway as Desmond called the medical staff and his spineless brother. He was still crying when Andrew walked into the room. Nathan could feel his brother’s eyes burning into his skin, and it was the only time he felt an instant’s shame about the deed. She bore them both after all, and he had loved his brother once when their father was still alive and the world was innocent.
He remembered playing catch and throwing footballs with Andrew and Father in the shadow of Laguna.
That was before the milk of the mountain and the unholy blasphemies his mother allowed into the Thorne household. When the bitch still listened to Father and Eshabaar was weak. In that moment, Nathan would have given anything to have Andrew walk over and place a hand on his shaking shoulder. Instead, the coward had run for the comforts of his cows.
Nathan did not understand Andrew’s obsession with the big-titted whores.
Wasn’t he a man? Surely he saw the regression of his actions, the pathetic infantilism underpinning his desires? Andrew wanted to continue serving Eshabaar, but there was no way Nathan was letting the arrangement continue. Even if it meant killing his brother and turning the Laguna compounds into a smoldering ruin.
That cunt has polluted your family for long enough. She is not the only divine force in the world. There are others that live in the darkness and wait for the chance to feed… And unlike the cows, these creatures are wise enough to do your bidding. Two little soldiers became none as he picked up his phone and dialed.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Miyamori? It’s me. Listen, I need to speak to the old squelchy. Can you arrange a meeting?”
As he waited for the details, he stared out at the sleepless city.
It’s time to get some more soldiers.
Chapter Four: Eshabaar, Mother of Life
“Shhhh,” says Andrew with a finger pressed to his twelve year old lips. “Don’t make a sound, Nathan. If he catches us he’ll eat us up.”
Nathan whimpers beside him as they press their bodies tightly together beneath the bed. They are wearing matching blue sleeping shorts and nothing else, the night air prickling their bare skin. Nathan squirms against Andrew, his arm draped tight across his brother’s back and his face contorted by fear of the wet thing hunting them in the rambling old house.
The room is dark and silent, but they can hear the clamor of the summer storm raging outside. It would be better out there, thinks Andrew as he places a hand over his brother’s crying mouth. Even if they were naked, shivering, and running lost through the windswept fields. Sometimes being lost is better than being found…
From somewhere inside they hear the monster’s slobbery breath and the sucking sound it makes as it moves its repulsive body.
“I’m scared, Andy,” whispers Nathan as he crawls backwards away from Andrew’s shielding hand. He rasps, “I don’t want to be eaten!”
“Don’t be scared, Nathan, just stop…” A nauseating squelch interrupts him, and the air is suddenly rank with a terrible odor of sweat and decay. He cannot see it but it smells old, and Andrew can hear its stomach rumbling as it wheezes and splutters before the bed. It is hungry, and the only thing that can quell its ancient craving is the sweet meat wrapped around their shaking bones…
Nathan screams and reaches out desperately for Andrew as the monster pulls him from under the bed. Andrew opens his mouth to call for help and all that comes out is a torrent of sour milk mixed with hot blood…
Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella: (Paranormal Fantasy Erotica) Page 2
