Andrew woke with a start, his head still clouded by the fading vapors of the nightmare. For a second, he thought he was still in his childhood bedroom watching Nathan get swallowed by that unspeakable creature. Relief washed over him like Mother’s Milk as he heard the reassuring patter of Thaddeus’s fingertips, and he realized he was lying in a cramped cot in the milking parlor’s observation room.
Andrew lifted his head groggily and reproached himself for his childlike terror. He often had vivid dreams after ingesting large quantities of the milk, and the way he fed yesterday, he thought he would suck Ramona’s tit dry. Still, he was unnerved by the sinister remnants left floating in his skull.
The milk, the blood and the shuffling beast. Nathan slipping from his outstretched hands. The bedroom in Thorne Manor that they had shared as children.
Their childhood home was a grand country estate within walking distance of the Laguna compound. It was built when his mother first began to seek the earth mother in the early nineties, and it was there his father Eliot shot himself through the temple in the seclusion of his study. Andrew spent little time there now, dividing his days between a city apartment and his cocooned existence with the Sacred Sisters. But we are never at a place like we are when we are children, and he still treasured the fragments of that forgotten life. Nathan changed so much during his teenage rebellions, and the memories of their shared youth at Thorne Manor were Andrew’s only tangible connection to the brother he once loved. That is why the dream left such a bitter aftertaste, the slimy intruder in the dark devouring not only his brother but also his past.
Thaddeus was hunched over a keyboard in the corner of the room, streams of data reflected in his oversize spectacles. The skinny young scientist was charged with regulating the milk bath and maintaining the robotic tentacles that tended the Sacred Sisters. He had been with them for five years, and Andrew had yet to see him leave the holy confines of Eshabaar’s milk parlor. He was just as obsessed with the surrogate mothers as Andrew was, but unlike Andrew, his motivations were not eroticized. His relationship with the Sisters was almost maternal in its fastidious devotion, and Andrew often heard Thaddeus singing them nursery rhymes in a surprisingly sweet falsetto uninflected by raw carnality.
His shaved head turned when he heard Andrew stirring from the cot.
“Sleep well?” The bulbous lenses of his spectacles made his eyes appear cartoonish in his boyish face. A matchstick jutted from between his teeth as he passed Andrew a flask of strong coffee.
“No bad dreams I hope.”
“How did I get here?” Andrew swigged, the hot liquid invigorating his exhausted frame. He noticed he was dressed in unfamiliar yellow pajamas emblazoned with colorful dinosaurs, the material tight against his chest.
“And what the fuck am I wearing?”
“Those are mine. I know they’re a bit of a squeeze, but I couldn’t have you sleeping up here with your junk hanging out. I fished you out this morning after you were finished with Ramona.” Thaddeus looked at his shoes as he carefully weighed his next words, “You must be careful boss. Their milk is growing stronger each day. One day you could…”
“How many times must I tell you not to call me that? It makes me feel like a dandified slave owner.”
“Fancy that. Anyway, just consider it a friendly warning from one pervert to another.” Thaddeus glanced back at the endless strings of code, “Speaking of slaves, my girls are getting restless. Eshabaar must be close.”
Andrew quickly wiped his mouth and made for the stairway that led down to the lagoon. Thaddeus started to protest, “Whoa, calm down lover-man! I’m not sure how safe it is down there, their hormone levels are off the charts.”
Andrew turned to him and laughed as he tore off the ghastly pajamas.
“Consider it quality control. The milk is always richer when she’s here. And unlike you, I have a sweet tooth.” Naked, Andrew made his descent to the shimmering milk as Thaddeus wearily shook his shiny head.
The suction cups that fed Mother’s Milk into the processing labs were disconnected. The proximity of the earth mother increased the quantity of their lactation so greatly that they had to halt production lest they destroy the milking equipment. Milk spurted uncontrollably from the Sisters’ nipples in every direction, shrouding the earth mother’s womb in a fine white mist that concealed the cavorting surrogates. Geysers of gushing milk splashed against the walls and sprayed Andrew’s face, and he was already hard when his toes touched the warm liquid and he slipped through the milky veil.
The pool was a seething confusion of ripe breasts and thrashing limbs. The frothing milk rippled across the Sisters’ bubble bellies as they frantically licked and sucked each other’s bloated tits like starving children. They formed a rough circle in the center of the milk bath, their arms and legs haphazardly interwoven as the milk surged around them in growing waves.
Their bodies heaved together like a single organism covered with dribbling tits and faces twisted in paroxysms of slowly building pleasure. They honor the earth mother by showing the irreducible oneness of the magical feminine. Eshabaar is the mother of all, and they conjoin their bodies into one flesh to worship the glory of her all-encompassing womb.
For a minute Andrew struggled to distinguish any details in the mass of adoring Sisters, but as his eyes accustomed to the dizzying profusion of tender pregnant skin, he began to discern brief tantalizing flashes.
Olivia leaned to her left and grinded Trisha’s nipple between her teeth, her fingers brushing the light-red stretch marks fanning the chestnut-haired Sister’s enormous belly.
Lexi was a pale Sister with spiky black hair they captured outside a punk club in the city. She held an older Sister’s breast in her clawing hands and aimed the jets of milk into her mouth, thin strands of spit and milk dangling from her multiple lip piercings.
The Asian Sister who spoke no English squealed incomprehensibly as a trio of impish Sisters broke from the circle and crawled over her body with flicking tongues. Two fed from her tits while a third licked milk from her sunken navel and dragged her fingernails across the slick orb of her belly.
Even Agatha joined in the frenzy, her extended mourning for Esther forgotten as she burrowed her fingers into the doughy flesh of a brown-haired Sister’s buttocks while the Sister slurped on her glistening tits. Milky hands lovingly caressed puffy stomachs as the Sisters doused each other in Mother’s Milk and celebrated their fattened bellies. That is where they house Eshabaar’s sacred children. Their reproductive systems are enslaved to the earth mother, and their rounded bellies are divine proof of the lifeblood’s power.
Andrew saw Ramona and waded carefully out to meet her. Vortices were spinning furiously in the milk bath as volcanic bursts of Mother’s Milk erupted from the Sister’s dark nipples. He maneuvered gingerly to Ramona’s side, his fingers interlocking with hers as the redheaded Sister presented her cunt to a young surrogate with sparrows tattooed between her shoulder blades. Ramona turned to him and smiled distractedly.
“Andy, we have to stop meeting like this. People will say we’re in lo- ahhhh!” She was interrupted when the younger girl began to pull her pointed nipple across her enlarged clit, a stream of Mother’s Milk pulsing against the engorged bud and sending Ramona into rapture.
A flickering blue light at the back of the tunnel leading into the mountain announced Eshabaar’s arrival. Milk was spraying everywhere as the light grew brighter and the milk bath began to bubble. Andrew took Ramona’s closest breast in his hand and pressed his turgid prick against the base of her spine.
You need the milk now, to feel the earth mother’s womb on the tip of your tongue. You need to forget Nathan and his faraway eyes. You need to forget the beautiful journalist with perfect breasts who chews her golden hair. Eshabaar is here. However, the Sisters promptly halted their orgy and Ramona released his hand. Her arms rose above her head and her fingers interlocked with the Sisters on either side of her. The circle of bodies lifted on the back of
a milky wave, the streams from their nipples meeting in a massive fountain that obscured the cave’s sparkling blue mouth.
“Eshabaar, mother of life. Eshabaar, mother of life.” The chant spread and swelled, and the lagoon started to shake from the deafening roar of the earth mother’s heralds. Eshabaar levitated into the room through the raging milk, her snow-white body dripping in the shining light that emanated from the blue choker around her pale neck.
This was the first time Andrew had seen Eshabaar since his mother’s passing, and she looked just as spectacular as she always did. Her long white hair fell beneath her tapering feet and her silvery eyes stared unblinking at her surrogates. She smiled slightly, running her spindly fingers over her exquisite curves. Her extravagant breasts were emphasized by a sheer, skintight black dress composed of interlaced webbing that crisscrossed her tits and cut into the soft flesh.
She raised a finger for silence and the hubbub ceased instantly. The surging fountain of Mother’s Milk continued to flow as Eshabaar outstretched her luminous arms above her expectant devotees.
“Sacred Sisters, you please me greatly. Behold Eshabaar, mother of the earth and queen of the mountain’s womb, and allow me to return the favor.” With that she ripped open the front of her lattice dress and the surrogates sighed in breathless unison.
Her tits were huge and gorgeously shaped, the dark brown whorls of her areolae contrasting sharply with the translucent tint of her skin. Tiny bones pierced her nipples horizontally, the calcium ornaments carved into the likeness of open mouths. Thin streams of milk trickled lazily from her nipples and cascaded down her flat stomach. They caressed the raised arches of her ribs before meeting at her groin and drenching her snowy pubic hair.
Andrew prepared himself for the coming deluge. He wrapped his hand around his cock beneath the lake’s unstable surface, his fingers clenching the tightening shaft. The downpour is upon us.
She spread her legs and took her drooping tits in her thin fingers. She muttered an unintelligible incantation and milk poured from the slit between her alabaster thighs. Her fingers began to massage her heavy breasts from the smooth swells at the base to the tips of her springy nipples. As she milked herself she began to lactate, and the speed of her squeezing fingers increased until Andrew could see nothing but an indistinct blur behind the generous streams of breast milk. The inundations from her swollen nipples joined the flood that sprayed from the parted lips of her cunt, and the Sisters writhed in ecstasy as they bathed in Eshabaar’s hallowed juices. The circle was broken and the orgy escalated at a rabid rate.
Andrew covered his hand in the Mother’s Milk, bucketing from Ramona’s tit and used it to lubricate his prick. His skin thrummed and his eyes glassed over as he thrust himself into Lexi, his tumescent cock swallowed all the way down to the aching base. He fed on the punk Sister’s tattooed breasts as his hands scrabbled desperately for Ramona’s weeping tits behind him. Eshabaar’s milk splashed on the top of his head as his lips pumped furiously on Lexi’s nipple, his hands massaging Ramona’s bulging stomach.
Then Eshabaar descended, and Andrew forgot everything as the earth mother slipped into the simmering womb. The milk intensified and coursed through his veins, usurping his very blood. There was no Andrew anymore, nor were there Sisters with names and faces and private histories. There was only the sweet milk and the joy of dissolving into Eshabaar’s enfolding skin.
Afterwards, Eshabaar picked Andrew up in her arms like an injured bird and carried him to the edge of the lake. She lay him down tenderly and wiped a strand of black hair from across his rolling eyes.
“Andy, I am so sorry for your loss. Your mother was an incredible woman, and you share her sweet nature. If it wasn’t for her, my children would be lost.” Her voice was as soft and intimate as a mother’s to her frightened son, a far cry from her earlier booming declarations.
Andrew nodded absently, his entire body still shuddering from the milk bath. He lifted a hand and cupped Eshabaar’s overhanging breast.
“Where is your brother?” She gazed at him intently, her white eyes searching Andrew’s face. His mother told him that the earth mother could read your thoughts, so it was preferable never to lie to her.
“I don’t know, probably stoned out of his head somewhere, whaling on some poor girl…” His voice drifted away, his tongue heavy in his head.
“I cannot read or know that one. He is too bound to his father, and that is a terrifying thought. He is driven by a fear he cannot comprehend.” Her head cocked suddenly, her pale eyeballs flitting from side to side.
“Do you know an Emma, Andy?” Behind her the Sisters held each other in the post-orgasmic lull.
Andy nodded again, smiling at his memory of Ms. Lake, “She is a blonde journalist with perfect breasts and a kind heart. You would like her, earth mother.”
“Perhaps you can introduce me then. She approaches us as we speak. And you are right, Andy. She is a beauty.”
Chapter Five: Old Squelchy’s Wrigglies
Nathan took a drag of his cigarette as he waited for the lift. June Miyamori stood next to him, her svelte physique bound in tight leather. The bone of her hip kept brushing against him as she swiveled gracefully on her feet, her entire attention devoted to the game she was playing on her smartphone. Her hair was dyed purple and covered half her face in a luminous fringe, and she wore red contact lenses that concealed her inner thoughts. She was statuesque in the neon glare of the digital screen above the lift.
Miyamori Fisheries Lower Levels – Do not enter! read the scrolling message. June had pressed the button a few minutes earlier, and they were still waiting for the elevator to ascend. A security camera was mounted on the wall, its glossy black eye fixed on the unlikely duo. The groaning elevator doors slid open and they were assailed by the potent aroma of decaying fish. June unzipped a pocket on her breast and nestled the phone inside. She climbed into the elevator, her taut ass clearly defined by the whispering leather. She stood in the reeking lift and stared back at him with a bored expression etched on her face.
“Mr. Thorne?” He met her red eyes and took a deep breath.
Here you go, the moment of truth. You are entering Krang’s domain, the subterranean keep of the squid lord. Once you go down there is no coming back.
Nathan had heard spine-chilling tales of what happened to people who displeased Krang. Images of desiccated corpses covered with indolent crabs flashed through his mind.
Get in the lift Nathan. Do not allow the slut to see your weakness. Once they detect weakness the first crack will open, and then it is only a matter of time before the fissures spread and the elaborate construction that is Nathan Thorne falls apart. His hands clenched into sweaty fists and he walked nonchalantly into the stink, his nose itching for another hit of coke and his skin bristling from the nauseating proximity to the emo bitch.
Nathan Thorne was not happy as the lift shuddered and began its slow descent. This is all you need, another weak-willed woman standing in the Thorne shadow. But her cowardly father was reluctant to bring him to the squelchy one, his blood running cold at the mere mention of the squid lord’s name. He had accepted the suitcase full of money, of course, but he would not set one foot inside the fishery.
“Sor- sorry Mr. Thorne, I cannot go down there again. I am too old to go running after gods. The smell…It is cold down there, too, so cold. It sinks beneath the bones, oh yes. The bones remember, and that is enough.” The man quailed in the back seat of his stretch limousine, and despite his immaculate black suit and the fringes of tattoos visible beneath his open collar, he looked nothing like one of the chief lieutenants of the Yakuza.
“But June can go, yes? She is strong, that one, like a man. Quick with a blade, and completely without fear. I trained her myself after her older brothers died. She is the only woman who can stand in front of Kr-, him. She will be your escort.”
So he was stuck with the yellow bleeder, her eyes impassive as they plummeted into the fishery’s bowels.
She rolled her long neck, the bones clicking like monsters’ teeth in the cramped lift. He could smell leather and a faint whiff of coconut from her ridiculous hair. For a second he felt a wave of arousal, but when his cock began to stiffen, he bit down savagely on the inside of his lip until he tasted the rich iron of his blood.
Do not let her sweet scents fool you. She is a woman, and beneath the tantalizing veneer, she is blood and milk and horror just like the rest of them.
She was androgynous, the smooth plains of her face giving no hint of her gender. But Nathan could see the small bumps of her breasts and the swell of her hips outlined through her leather attire, and he cursed Mr. Miyamori and his cold bones.
Andy would know what to say. If he was here with his hips grazing the sullen daughter of a Yakuza boss, he would probably concoct an appropriate witticism or pleasantry. Or look at her in that wistful way of his, his blue eyes brimming with innocence and sincerity. His brother was always slicker with the female sex, even when they were children. Little girls would run miles to tag Andrew in a game of kissing catchers, and grown women would marvel at his warm disposition and easy laughter.
Nathan was always the "other" one, the restless, temperamental mirror image of Andrew’s guileless charm. Resenting Andrew’s natural ease with others, Nathan decided it was necessary to display his own unique qualities. So when he played kissing catchers, he tore girls’ ponytails and kicked their shins. When women admired him, he swore in their faces and obscenely shot them his index finger. In short, knowing that he could never emulate Andrew’s inherent goodness, he strove to become as bad as possible, and he measured his progress by this ever widening gulf.
It had been the same with their mother. Even when he was a little boy, he suspected she never truly loved him. Andrew monopolized her matriarchal affections, and he remembered nights spent wishing Andy would die so he could have Mother all to himself. It shamed him now to think of it, his stomach turning as the elevator started to slow.
Earth Goddess' Nectar: The Complete Novella: (Paranormal Fantasy Erotica) Page 3
