Most Excellent

“We need food!” Sara whined, petulantly and softly stomping her left front and right rear feet at the same time.

“Tell me about it!” Rose yelled from the front, now able to be heard at a slightly lower level thanks to less ambient noise with our devices and the motorhome’s radio off (or at least silent). “We need gasoline too! How’s about one of you who’s not driving making yourself useful looking up the nearest gas station?”

Thankfully we found one: Virgil was the first to identify a small service station only a couple of miles away to the north and west.

Within minutes we arrived at the small sylvan spot on the map known as Dinkum, Minnesota, about 10 miles from Fair. A hamlet more (actually less) than a town, I saw barely a dozen small homes or stand-alone tiny businesses scattered on either side of the rural 2-lane road. Rose eased the motorhome up near the open-air (no roof) pumps, aside the small combo station/mini-mart building.

Soon as we all got out, we noticed how eerily quiet it was. No other vehicles, no people… almost no other living fauna. The wind through the nearby pine trees did a startlingly good job sounding like barren desert winds that would be tossing tumbleweeds, despite the local flora being far closer to alpine. Without question the sounds and overall experience were equally desolate. Thankfully it was an unseasonably warm wind, given that we all remained nude!

Seeing and hearing no one, Virgil and Rose bravely stuck their heads in through the building’s open front door, the latter calling out, “Helloooo!


“Ya think it’s deserted?” Sara asked no one in particular.

“A lot of people are panicked and in an urgent hurry to escape the state,” I noted, “so it might be.”

Rose and Virgil returned next to the rest of us, all standing out in the open between the pumps and the building.

Each of us looked around, scanning the surroundings for signs of life. The one other nearby building apart from the service station’s mini-mart, about 40-some meters roughly to the west, drew Virgil’s attention. “Shiny Betty’s House of Excellent Repute!” he exclaimed.

All I could see was a small sign that said “Shiny Betty’s”, and only if I squinted and focused carefully.

“What’s that?” asked Helia, first to verbalize what was on several of our minds.

“It’s the only brothel in the continental United States with a dedicated snowmobile parking lot, last I checked.” The bright glow in his dick-faced eyes made several of us wonder what all he was into.

“I’m not feeling real good that you know that” Sara admitted aloud.

“Look: women can get sex whenever they want. Hetnorm men can’t. Don’t judge.”

“Ya think Shiny Betty’s affiliated with this station?”

“I think one or more of us should skip over the formalities and figure out how to work the pumps, Tent!

As usual, Helia was far more serene and happy than Rose, dreamy-eyed looking towards the mini-mart, musing, “I bet they have milk in there!”

“They definitely have milk in there, and given that the place looks for all intents and purposes abandoned and society seems to be unraveling, we might as well help ourselves to what we want. Especially gasoline, so we’re not stuck here!”

“How many levels of criminality do you want to put on our record…s?” I snapped.

“I’ll go ask over at Shiny Betty’s if they know what’s up.”

“What makes you think anybody’s there?” Rose asked Virgil.

“The Open sign is lit up and winking at us, so I’d call that a positive indicator” he replied, already heading away from us towards the building, with less of a need to hold up his head and elongating dick shaft neck with each step.

Self-serving as it might possibly be, none of us objected to Virgil’s proactive answer-seeking.

Once at the door, he turned sideways so he could press the doorbell button and keep his face at the end of his expanding neck from squishing into the door front.

Within moments the door opened. The glistening forehead of the individual along with obvious gender presentational hints and salacious attire (albeit atypical, at least for my mental stereotypes of brothel workers) suggested that we were seeing Shiny Betty in full shine.

She scanned Virgil up and down from the moment of first sight. “Well hellooow there” she purred, about an octave lower than I would have expected.

Further visual study revealed her to be a generously buxom, generally thicc woman with extreme mid-body dimensions in a shape highly atypical, alluding to yet very different from typical hip, butt, and belly fat patterns. There was soft wiggling suggesting subcutaneous fat, but it was unlike any fat I’d ever seen.

“Hi! Shiny Betty, I presume?”

“You presume correctly, my well-endowed friend. I do admit to being unsure whether you’ve come a-knocking seeking my services or to inquire about joining the team, given how you appear to be equipped for either of those options, and… mmmm… more.”

“It’s a great honor to make your acquaintance, and… well… I’d like to pursue options generally along the lines you describe, though the reason I knocked and the most pressing topic is seeking information regarding who operates the gas station and mini-mart next door. We, uh, need food and gasoline, both those in a fairly urgent manner.”

“Yeah, that’s Fu and Mal Schnickens’s place. They bailed this morning, about an hour after the news of the prison break-outs broke.”

Her gaze went skyward, easy for all of us to see. Looked to me like she was focusing on things in her mind, rather than anything her eyes might have been able to sense.

“Glad to have been and remain safe here, but wouldn’t it have been rad to have been part of a major social justice uprising like that?”

“It was.”

Her eyes immediately jerked back onto Virgil’s dickface.

“We overpowered the lead guard, who may or may not also have been the warden, or close.”

“You better not be bullshitting me.”

He pointed directly at us, “Ask any or all of them. We were all in the same cell together in Mustinka, and worked together on a series of breakout plans. The one that happened to play out was Tent, the octo-woman over there, seducing the lead guard until he was totally lost in her boobs, at which point we overpowered him, all of them other than me dousing him in mutant milk, each of us doing our part with handcuffing him to the cell bars, binding and gagging him, purloining his weapon, keys, and tech… like that. Tent acted as our leader and coordinator, her and me rushing around unlocking cells and explaining the break-out plans as fast as we could, with Rose the pretty, sexy, and literally very handy boob worm woman, Sara the well-endowed humantaur, and udderly wonderful Helia rushing out to find us a ride.”

Shiny Betty fervently waved us over, bright-eyed smiling.

Grumpy Rose waved her and Virgil over towards us with equal fervor, more hands, and no bright eyes nor smiling.

Betty lifted up each of her (two) bare feet in turn, showing us why she’d rather we come over to her.

Rose did a jump-up all-hand wave, showing her why she’d rather Shiny Betty and Virgil come over to us.

“This isn’t getting us any gasoline nor food” Sara noted.

“Want to balance against me, Rose,” ever-kind Helia kindly offered, “so it’s only your bottom hands on the asphalt and dirt?”

“There’s only two of them and there’s four of us, and they both have normal legs!

Weary of the stand-off, I swept cranky Rose up with several tentacles, holding tight against her strikingly infant-like thrashing and struggling. “Let’s go meet Shiny Betty, lovely milky ladies” I smiled in both sound and expression.

Shiny Betty was obviously glad to see us. “Love the lack of clothing” were her first words for all of us once we arrived up close.

“That’s what happens when paranoid authoritarians take them all, along with our dignity!” Rose ranted.

“And our tech!” exclaimed Sara.

“All the way down to my hair band!” I added.

“Some of us weren’t fitting all that well in our clothes at the time” Helia blushed and grinned, demurely averting her eyes.

“Well, you’re all naturals for nudity, in my considered opinion beautifying our environment by so being” said Betty.

The sun glinting off her forehead momentarily blinded me. She didn’t appear in any way mutated up there: it looked like normal human skin on a normal human forehead. Whether perspiration, cosmetics, or whatever else, assuredly Betty was shiny, at least there.

“This is all backwards!”

“How so?” Betty asked Rose.

“You’re the one that’s in the, ummm… sex business, ergo you’re the one who should have your clothes off—not us!”

“I typically charge for that. Any truth to my new dick-cunt friend’s claim that you all were involved in one of the prison breaks today?”

“Block C of Mustinka. Tent, Sara, and I were locked up in one of the not-so-big bigger corner cells first, then some unknown number of days of illegal, immoral, and unconstitutional forced detention later, your new bud Virgil—whom you are free to call Vagil, as I prefer—joined us. Some additional number of forever-lost days later, Helia busted in.”

“In the best possible way” Virgil smiled her direction, inducing renewed bashful blushing from her.

Apparently about as minimally trusting as Rose, Shiny Betty grilled us further, striving to suss out whether we were honestly representing ourselves.

Eventually she concluded we were telling the truth. “I am in awe. It’s a great honor to meet you all, and be in your presence.”

“Not to be a total bitch, but how about some food?” Rose totally bitched.

“I’m going to need to milk soon.”

“I’m sure you taste great, Helia, but we need food that won’t mutate us further! At least I do!”

“So you all think it’s the milk?” asked Betty.

First Rose, Sara, and I nodded silently, with Virgil then Helia joining in.

“Well that would explain why my mutations started happening after I had that really tasty milk.”

“Lakeside Bucolic Farms?” asked Sara.

“No, and that’s the thing that makes me wonder whether it might be more widespread than the experts think. I’ve never even seen a bottle nor carton nor any other container of anything from Lakeside Bucolic Farms. What I think did it to me was that pint of Diggity Dawg Dairy Cream Preme I got from next door.”

“Sounds great” Helia nearly drooled.

“Owh, it was awesome!” Betty rolled her eyes towards her shiny forehead, gently touching the back of Helia’s hand the way friends (especially women) often do when sharing something special.

“What mutations?” Sara wondered. “The forehead shine?”

“No, that’s been a part of me since hormonal changes during adolescence: bountiful skin oil, maybe more. Since y’all apparently all really did start the prison breaks, the least I can do to express my appreciation is give you a free look.”

So skilled was Shiny Betty at getting out of her clothes, she did it in one singular move and was already done before my mind fully processed that she was starting.

Virgil’s neck lengthened dramatically and swiftly. Several of us gasped.

Rather than one standard-sized vulva in the usual place, Shiny Betty now had four big ones, symmetrically spaced on the fronts and backs of each thigh at the usual height and 90° angles. Sitting atop her thighs, their softness wiggled and wobbled the way I’d seen when her clothes were on, explaining the mystery.

“Not all mutations are bad mutations” Betty grinned.

All of us could see that Virgil was lost to her, uhm, charms. He reverently reached his hand out slowly part-way, easing it back, then repeating as though there was an internal struggle going on for control of this limb.

Sara turned to me, “I really think we need to identify this milk.”

“The container’s probably still in my kitchen trash. Come on in.”

I had to be especially careful moving through Shiny Betty’s combination business and residence, minding my huge body core and tentacles to ensure no part of me whacked into anything/anyone. For this reason I cannot go into as much decor detail as you might wish to read. This I do remember: the main entry room, which appeared to be the original house’s living room, looked a lot more warm, homey, and cozy than I’d expected. Assuredly there was evidence of extremely open sexuality everywhere, though far more appealing and less sleazy than I would have imagined. Incense dominated—not my favorite scent, yet the place was clean enough with nothing I could sense of sleazy, tacky, stinky sex odors. Indeed, when Rose and I go all the way at it, we funk up the place far more than any funk I noticed at Shiny Betty’s… other than the Yarbrough & Peoples Don’t Stop The Music 12” leaning against the wall on a mid-height wall moulding along with other nik-nak decor items.

This was an older house with a smaller kitchen: normal size for most of the 20th. century. No way that I could even get in there with everyone else in that room. I was, however, able to look through the doorway from the main room to see the important stuff and hear everything.

Betty dug through the trash, setting aside irrelevant and unwanted garbage in the sink. At first Virgil tried to help her, but his dick neck was far too extended for him to be able to see what his hands were doing, thus he had to stop soon after starting.

Over 2/3rds. of the contents of the trash can were extracted before Betty triumphantly pulled out and held up the empty pint bottle. “This is it.”

Sara claimed it first, removing the cap for a sniff in addition to studying the label carefully. “Scent’s not quite the same, but then again this is weeks out of the refrigerator.”

“May I inspect it please?” asked Helia. “I’m deep into milk.”

Given how big she’d swollen, if she and/or the rest of us didn’t get milk out of her soon, we might all be deep into (her) milk.

She too performed a sniff test and close visual inspection, taking things up a dangerous notch with a lick test of the residue near and on the rim. “The flavor profile closely matches Lakeside Bucolic Farms, taking into account the unrefrigerated aging. Bottle’s similar, though that’s not all that informative given how few bottle makers there are versus how many microdairies. Label is totally different in terms of fonts, layout, and appearance than the Lakeside Bucolic Farms bottle I had.”

“May I inspect, please?” asked Rose.

Helia gladly handed the bottle off to her, along with its still-removed screw top lid.

Rose too did a lick test, in her case first-thing before very carefully studying the label.

The way she slightly bit her lip as she looked through the doorway at me when our eyes met suggested intriguing, disturbing possibilities. “See this mark down here?” she asked those close enough to be able to look.

Yes they could (and said so in various wordings).

“I can’t be certain because it’s all blurry from having gotten wet here in the trash, but its looks suggest to me that there may be a corporate connection between this dairy and Lakeside Bucolic Farms.”

“Lakeside Bucolic Farms was an independent, last I heard” I said from out in the main room.

She turned towards Shiny Betty, “Think they have any more of this next door?”

“Wouldn’t know, but chances are good, considering how low their turnover has been since the mutations started.”

Of necessity I led the way back out of the building, over towards the still-vacant mini-mart.

The interior of the no-name* gas station mini-mart looked basically like any amongst the 10s of thousands of similar entities scattered across the U.S.A.: minimally decorated (mostly lottery promotional posters and a few major-brand beer ads), basic shelving, name brand snack foods, generic sundries.

* There was a name: the off-brand of this particular station (and presumably its mini-mart) was Dino-Boom. I can only surmise that somehow this relates to dinosaurs being a source of petroleum and gasoline exploding inside internal combustion engine cylinders. But what do I know?—I’m a med student, not an advertising/sales/marketing major.

Milk maven Helia made a beeline (thankfully not yet a milk dribble line) to the 1 of 4 in-wall refrigerated sections featuring milk (the one to the left of it hosting water, the two further left hosting beer), with Rose in hot pursuit.

“Yep, they have it” Helia announced, pulling out a pint bottle.

“Let me see, please, before anything can possibly smear.”

“Gotta be a low-production microdairy to be using ink that smears that easily.”

“That and/or cheap.”

She studied the label for half a minute before reaching into the pocket she didn’t currently have. “Dammit!

“What now?” I asked.

“I wanna get a picture of this tiny logo in the lower corner before it smears!”

“Alright, fiiiine” I sighed, slither-walking my way back outside towards the motorhome, to retrieve Bad Mood Boob Worm’s device.

By the time I returned with it, Rose had the lid off and was just finishing a sample swig. With plenty of unoccupied hands, she repeatedly grabby-hand motioned for her handheld as her upper right calmly held the bottle and her upper left calmly held its top.

Soon as she screwed the top back on and took her picture, she held the bottle out my direction, “Here.”

Shiny Betty in particular though truly everyone seemed to enjoy watching my long tentacle reach from over near the cash register (where there was more space) all the way across the length of the small mini-mart to the milk case.

After a cursory look at the label, I took the top back off and took a swig.

Rose looked at me expectantly, her top arms folded beneath Uddy and her big top right boob. “Familiar?”

“Tastes like Pinnacle Premium Creamy to me. Not exactly fresh, but drinkable” I replied, tentacle-handing the remainder of the bottle back to her.

“It is the same milk which was sold and distributed as Lakeside Bucolic Farms Pinnacle Premium Creamy.”

“How can you know that without lab testing?!” Sara challenged her.

“See this little logo down here?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

“It’s the letters TT inside the bigger letter B, shaped to look like brass knuckles.”

“Mightn’t you be projecting there, Rose?”

TTB is the TodlinTown Boys, alright?” she stridently responded. “I know this!”

“So what does that have to do with it?” asked Betty.

“TTB distributed Lakeside Bucolic Farms. Why they used this other branding here, I have no idea. This is a little old, but it is absolutely the same milk sold as Lakeside Bucolic Farms Pinnacle Premium Creamy—no lab tests needed!”

Helia’s sudden unstable swaying back and forth immediately drew several of ours’ attention. It scared me when I looked in her eyes, which I swear to you looked like spirals spinning pinwheel-style!

“Pinnacle Premium millllllk” she said in a dreamy, far-away tone, thereafter lunging towards the milk case, exclaiming “Must have!”

No Helia!” Rose threw a body block. “It’s tainted mutation milk—and past its date code!”

This was the moment we discovered there was no stopping Helia Melonowski on a mission for milk. She bodily boobed and uddered Rose out of the way, quickly grabbing a pint, popping the lid off like Popeye popping open a can of spinach, and drinking it all down with a clearly audible glug glug glug glug glug.

Hhhh, hhhh” she started panting as soon as she finished, gasping, “This is the best milk ever! Hhhh!, Hhhh!

We watched helplessly as arousal overtook her, consuming her.

Before we knew it, she had a milkgasm right on the spot. It will be kind of you not to ask for details. Let’s leave it at milky messy.

Auuuuggh!” she moaned during recovery. “That was so worth it!”

Sara couldn’t believe what she’d heard, “But what about the mutations?!”

“Don’t care!” Looking straight at her with still-dreamy eyes, Helia added, “You haven’t lived until you’ve had Pinnacle Premium Creamy—by any name!”

Virgil’s knowing hard-on nod compelled Rose to declare, “No one should have that milk who doesn’t want a fresh round of likely severe, unknown mutations! Why do you think they pulled the Lakeside Bucolic Farms milks off the market?!”

“We’ve got to tell the authorities!” exclaimed Sara. “And safely get rid of this past-date milk!”

“I’ll take care of that for you” again-pinwheel-eyed Helia told us, once more lunging for the door to the milk case.

This time Rose was ready. Honnnnk! she double nip-squeezed her.


Sara and Shiny Betty squeezed in together, working as a team to separate the sparrers, the latter saying, “Let’s leave the milk alone right where it is for now. The authorities have plenty to keep them busy, and we’re on a septic system here so I don’t especially want any of this drained out within miles of here.”

“Now that it’s way past lunch time, let’s at least have breakfast!” Rose growl-grumbled.

“Soon as we fill the tank, since we’re all in here and may be able to figure out how to work the system together.”

Before I finished speaking, Shiny Betty was already bobbling towards the operator’s station. She grabbed the keyboard, spinning the flat screen so she could see it as the computer woke back up from its extended nap. None of us were close enough to see what she was typing, and I doubt that any of us would have known what all she was doing if we had been within screen reading distance.

“$60 on Pump 1” she announced. “Is that enough?”

“Make it $80, please” requested Rose.

We filled the main tank, locked up the motorhome where it was (since no one else was stopping in, and they could still get to the other side of this pump and both sides of the other pumps if necessary), picked out some things from the mini-mart, then waited for Shiny Betty to close and lock the gas station up and escort us back over to her building.

The smell of cooking bacon along with hot, fresh coffee and small plates of buttered toast being handed to us put all us visitors in a better mood—Rose especially.

“Go ahead and get settled in the main room” Betty suggested. “I’ll have the bacon and more toast out soon.”

“Here ya go, mutant heroes” our hostess with the moundy mostest smiled as she held out the bacon plate for those nearest the kitchen.

All of us were seated more or less, as best our bodies allowed. All of us remained nude.

Betty studied the somewhat long, crowded distance between her in the kitchen doorway and me across the room. “I’m not sure I can… get over to where you are. Your main body, that is.”

“I got it” I assured her, carefully claiming the bacon plate with my resting center left tentacle, easily delivering it across the room and holding it in mid-air as my left hand piled the pieces onto the plate waiting in my right hand.

Sure would be convenient to be able to do that” Rose later told me Shiny Betty muttered at this point, around the time my tentacle passed the now-empty plate back to her. I easily heard her ask us, “Any interest in working here, any of you?”

Virgil’s hand shot up. None of the rest of us expressed an interest.

“Do you get enough business here to bring anyone else on?” asked Sara.

“Normally we do. Things are kind of up in the air right now.”

“Is that why nobody’s been here since we arrived?” Virgil asked.

“Yes. How many of you find you’re hornier since mutating?”

All of us raised at least one hand.

“Good” she smiled. “That portends well for The House of Excellent Repute’s future.”

Things grew quiet as we all partook of our overdue noms.

Hungry as we remained, we went directly from breakfast to lunch, in the form of a big communal pot of buttery spiced-up pasta noodles, served in individual bowls.

While in no way was this an especially chatty group, we’d all had things to say here and there, other than Helia.

“Doin’ OK, Ms. Melonowski?” I asked.

Her gaze remained distant, focused somewhere across the room near the junction of the wall and ceiling. “That milk… oh my gosh!” Here, she re-aimed her glazed gaze at us, “Why isn’t there some way to make it safe? It’s soooo good!”

“We have to understand what makes it dangerous first.”

“Which means understanding SOMS” added Sara.

“So here’s the thing I don’t get:” Betty started in, “If it’s the same milk, why are the mutations so radically different amongst us?”

“Genetic differences.”

“Unknown reactions with other foods and environmental factors” I added.

The room grew quiet again for another half minute.

“Rose: how is it you know so much about the retailing of these tainted milks?”

“Yeah, why is that?” Virgil joined Sara in asking.

She looked queasy as she looked over towards me, apparently hoping I’d participate in answering, if not possibly take over. My “You got us into this, so it’s your baby!” gaze kept me from getting as queasy as she looked, passing the brunt of the problem back to her.

“I have nothing to say, unless I have total assurance that nothing I share spreads beyond those of us presently in this room.”

“My house, my rules: what happens at Shiny Betty’s House of Excellent Repute, including all which is spoken by anyone, stays at Shiny Betty’s House of Excellent Repute. So it has always been.”

Knowing Rose as I did, I clenched up: she needed someone besides her and myself to know our truth.

“Remember how Tent and I call each other Premium and Regular?”

“Yes” Sara, to whom the question was directed, tentatively responded.

After a deep, noisy breath, she pointed at me and said “Lakeside Bucolic Farms Regular Whole”, then at herself, “Lakeside Bucolic Farms Pinnacle Premium Creamy, and apparently also Diggity Dawg Dairy Cream Preme. It’s our milk in those bottles.”

Clank!—shocked Sara’s suddenly free-falling fork landed loudly onto her plate.

“Raw, unprocessed.”

UhHuuuh-ccch-ccch!—Shiny Betty nearly choked on her then-current bite of pasta. “The bottle said Pasteurized!

Pastured is what was on the bottle. Meaning that the cows—hmm, hmm” she pointed at me and herself “—are free to roam around the pasture rather than being confined to a pen.”

“Or a penitentiary” I added.

“Yeah, our omega-3-to-6 output ratio likely went to shit in there” Rose grinned back.

“That’s why no one could find any cows or farmers or anyone at Bubblensqueak Lake.”

“And why I’m more than a little sensitive when anyone starts talking about euthanizing or cremating the mutation milk cows.”

Virgil palmed his dickhead, “So what you’re saying is that all of us and everyone else who’s mutated did so directly or indirectly because of your two’s milk?”

“That’s what the science seems to be indicating. As far as anyone’s doing good science” I ended with a mutter none of the rest of them could hear.

So I’m in a horse body with three boobs, giant udders, and two unreasonably large penises because of youuu?!?!

“Well it all kinda started with Tent, since I was normal until she filled me with her milky tentacles and let me drink her milk.”

Don’t put this all on me, Rose! I warned you not to drink my milk and I told you we didn’t know enough about it to safely sell it!”

Right about the time I thought that Rose and myself might well be back in danger of immediate harm and/or being turned over to authorities afresh, several of our attention turned to the one person in the room who remained calm: Helia. That is, if “calm” is defined as dazed and with renewed full-on spiral pinwheel not-of-this-present-reality eyes.

“Frrreesssh millllk” she mumbled, disturbingly like a zombie. Also like a zombie was the way she near-levitated out of her seat, seeming to almost float over to Rose, despite in reality walking normally (as normally as an udderly over-full mega-busty udder woman can).

Rose told me later she’d never seen as reverent a look in any of her lovers’ eyes as she did in Helia’s as she approached.

“Please…. Must know… what the fresh milk is like.”

“I don’t think it would be good to–”

“–Must know” she near-whispered, slowly reaching for the nearest of Uddy’s precious teats.

Again as Rose explained later, whatever was happening with Helia’s dazed gaze pulled her right in. “Yes…. You must know.

As though her life depended on it, Helia took a deep, succulent suckle.

AUUUGGGGHHH!” she orgasmically groaned after her first mouthful, yelling “THIS!” before going back in.

Familiar-to-me beads of arousal sweat began dribbling down Rose’s face, as Helia kept suckling her.

I thought I knew what would happen next, and I was correct: Rose claimed Helia’s nearest nip (because her udder teats were too far from Rose’s mouth, even if not her many hands), licking then suckling.

Sara turned towards me, a look of terror on her face, “They’ve formed a milk suckling loop! What‘s that going to do?!”

“We don’t know. No one does.”

Aiming an extremely sultry look at all of myself, Sara, and Shiny Betty, Virgil declared, “I think we have to find out!”

That’s when any vestiges of common sense left the building, and when we all found ourselves easing into a group milk-suckle-sex orgy. Virgil wasn’t lactating (yet!), but we all soon discovered that Shiny Betty had been into erotic lactation from before her mutations, and this ability had not diminished and in fact had slightly increased in terms of output volume.

It was already getting dark and colder by the time our unplanned orgy wound down.

Blissed-out passed-out Helia’s head rested atop her again-giant boobs, contentedly and peacefully mumbling “creamy”, “milky”, “softness”, “padding”, “love”, “peace”, and similar words now and then.

The rest of us were awake—barely—in a restful, tangled cuddle, mostly thanks to me and my tentacles, along with the rest of my grandly expansive body. Each of us had done each other in every possible combination—at least in terms of milk orifices and the more conventional uses of genitals.

“Need to be anywhere tonight?” Shiny Betty tiredly asked.

“No” Rose and I replied more or less together.

“Good. Stay over, please.”

Virgil gently and slowly rubbed his dick cheek against Betty’s soft, smooth shoulder, “Won’t that impact your business?”

“I closed for the day within minutes of the start of our orgy.” She nose-rub kissed him, “I’d rather stay with present company, with whom I hope to rest and cuddle as much as sharing sex.”

“Even with a dick-headed cunt such as myself?”

“If that’s the worst you’ve ever been called, you’ve had it easy” she chuckled, pulling him back down with her atop part of me.