Burned Down

Awakening in the relative comfort of what Shiny Betty called her Playboy Bed Array, which is to say (or write) an array of tightly-packed mattresses filling an entire room wall-to-wall, in Shiny Betty’s House of Excellent Repute, was vastly superior to any awakening since Rose’s and my last restful morning together at Bubblensqueak Lake, the morning before the day we drove away. At least it was until my mind woke up enough to realize that with near-certainty there would be major new mutations obvious on one or more or all of us.

I took a sensory inventory of all I could feel before actively moving much, or looking myself over. Right away I knew my boobs and their nips were bigger. My tentacles felt one or both of longer and/or thicker. My udder I could not be sure about: it was its typical over-milky full—surprisingly less so than had often been the case in the past the morning after major sex.

“Whoa” was Virgil’s first word of the morning, as he sat upright. “This is new.”

“This” wasn’t actually any sort of new appendage, rather a major modification to one he already had: his long tunnel vagina now had significantly more vulvar tissue around it, making it a thicker, better-padded tube.

“Ullllgghh” moaned Sara. “At least I don’t have a third dick and these two don’t seem materially bigger, unlike my butt!” she rolled her eyes.

“Curvier and sexier.”

“Hhhhhhnn” she softly sighed anew, cuddling deeper against Virgil. “Thanks, dick-headed honey. Overall feels like a sex hangover again though. Anyone else?”

The rest of us raised a hand, groan-mumbled, or similarly acknowledged this was so. Rose’s Uddy was very full of milk, with several of her boob pairs bigger, a new biggest-yet pair at the bottom adding to her length/height, and her vulva fleshier and more succulent than ever. Given her history, these changes didn’t surprise me.

I didn’t at first see any changes on our hostess, beyond some boob swelling. “How about you, Betty?”

“I’m usually more intense ride-resistant than this. Sex hangovers are new to me.”

“Tends to happen, post-mutation” said Sara.

“Especially with milk involved” added Rose.

“Feeling any changes?” I asked, hoping to bring things back on-topic as I’d intended initially.

“I’m feeling something between my legs I’m not used to feeling, and it sure doesn’t feel like any genitals I’ve ever known.”

Rose and I inspected, followed by Sara.

“Congratulations: you’re growing an udder.”

“How can you be so sure, Rose?” Sara questioned her.

“Looks and feels like mine when mine came in. Was it different for you?”

“I was too upset to have paid close enough attention.”

Betty appeared to be thinking deeply. “Yeah alright I guess. Whaddo I need to know about being an udderly sexy woman?”

Sara’s hand grabbed her wrist firmly, her direct eye contact equally firm, “Learn to express your milk before you get over-full.”

“Issa wurfaar fuuh.”

“Come again, Helia?”

Helia was her own story: so profoundly distended with milk that her face was buried in her boob flesh and root end of her cleavage, hence her voice being muffled. She had to work both hands and arms around and into her shockingly gigantic boobs to press their flesh away from her mouth enough to be clearly heard. “I was saying that it’s a lot of fun to express milk.”

“Which you’re going to need to do very soon, yes?”

“Well I don’t want to be in too big a hurry about it, and miss out on a few more minutes of these amazingly plush, warm, soft feelings, inside and out.”

I didn’t understand then, and I don’t know that I understand now. She had no new body parts that we could see, though the udder and perpetually big boobs she’d already had at the moment were so extremely distended that it was difficult to see any part of her other than those boobs, that udder, and small glimpses of her lovely hair. How anyone could be so contentedly comfortable so full of milk with the rest of their body vanishing to insignificance relative to their mind-blowingly huge udder and breasts, I do not know. I do know that this is basically what Helia told us, congruent with how she behaved.

“Not too bad an outcome for an orgy full of milk suckling loops and other wholly unknown fluid sharing, eh Sara?”

“I’m inclined to say don’t be a dick,” she replied to Virgil, “but then anatomically that’s nearly half of what I am as well as you. But seriously, it’s far too soon to know what may come of what we did, as mutations continue over time.”

For someone who made her living in various bedrooms, Shiny Betty was impressively good in the kitchen, making food. Breakfast was hearty, tasty, and filling, with most dishes featuring at least one of our milk, fresh from the most suitable teat, or nipple.

Betty relented in terms of allowing us to evacuate our excess milk locally. Not all that far from her property was an abandoned cistern, all that was left of a homestead located what would have been about 4 houses away, had this been a fully-populated unified suburban subdivision.

“Helia! You’re supposed to be releasing your milk, not straining to take in more of ours!” Sara scolded.

“I can’t stand the thought of all this magnificent fresh milk of the goddesses not being consumed and enjoyed! This is nearly as much of a crime as all of us being locked up!”

You might be willing to perpetually mutate in a myriad of unknown ways, but most people don’t want that.”

Sensing opportunity, I asked, “Want to stay with us long-term, Helia? That way you can drink the freshest possible milk formerly sold under the Lakeside Bucolic Farms brand and at least one other, right out of us… or at least me.”

She rushed over, awkwardly from remaining over-full of her own milk, “Oh please yes! My milk’s getting creamier and tastier too, so we could have milk parties every day!”

“Who-all is part of this ‘us’ of whom you speak?”

“Well unless you’re suddenly planning to take off somewhere, or kick us out of the motorhome and leave us stranded, I’m default including you along with me as ‘us’, Pinnacle Premium.”

Sara used her hands to toss-thwock her peni against Rose and myself, one dick per each of us. “Given all I’ve been through on my own and all we’ve been through together, I really think that all us udder girls need to stick together. In fact, this dick-laden udder girl demands it!”

The idea very much excited Helia. “Yes! We’re the Udder Girls, and we stick together and make and share milk and love and peace and friendliness!

“And endless unpredictable mutations.”

“Oh it’s not baaaad, is it?” she asked, caressing Sara’s nearest and biggest parts.

Sara blushed as both her peni grew and firmed up, getting hard from what had to have been pleasant thoughts of togetherness and socialization amongst now-close friends with many things in common. “I guess if these mutations have made me far more gender blurry and sexually driven than I ever wanted to be, might as well stop trying to suppress my raging romantic and sexual crushes on your three. But I’m still going to be loving men too! The ones I like.”

Now that was something upon which we could (and did) all readily agree.

Over the course of breakfast it had already become clear that Virgil and Betty were quite into one another, in my opinion not just as business partners nor even solely sexually, though for sure those things. Now emptied of milk and back at Shiny Betty’s with no reason to stay longer and no new major mutation-related news, we all helped clean up and otherwise put Shiny Betty’s House of Excellent Repute back into standard operating condition, then all us udder girls prepped to leave.

Parting without Virgil proved more difficult than I’d imagined—a sentiment seemingly shared with the rest of us who were moving on.

“Yes it’s a strange new life living life as little more than a huge dick, giant vagina, and big extra-nipply boobs, but I don’t mind” he softly shared with me during our parting caresses, as I held him close to me with a couple of my front tentacles.

“You all better come by and visit now and then, is all I have to say” said Betty, using her hands to tease one of my other tentacle heads against one of her front pair of extra-large and succulent labia lips.

Tingalingalinnnnggg rang the doorbell, startling several of us.

Having the greatest and fastest reach, I used my outside right tentacle to stretch over the distance and quickly open the front door.

It was Betty who looked out over the distance and greeted the caller, “Yes?”

“I was just wondering if we could get some gaso–AAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAAGHGHHGHGHG!

Apparently the un-mutated man (by all appearances and sounds) hadn’t initially processed what his eyes were seeing, or maybe hadn’t initially tried to look inside. All I know is that after his loud panicked scream, he turned around and ran away, still screaming “MUTANTS EVERYwhereeeerrreeeeeeeeeeee!”, trailing off in the distance until we heard a car door open and quickly slam shut, its engine roaring to life, tires leaving a little rubber behind as he peeled out.

“Well that’s special” said Rose.

Gently setting down everyone I was holding I replied, “Let’s get on the road and let these two love-birds settle into their new working-and-playing-together life.”

It was me back behind the wheel of our motorhome, giving Rose a break from her intense driving of the day prior and with neither Sara nor Helia expressing interest in driving. Ever since easing out of the Dino-Boom station next to Shiny Betty’s, I’d been driving us east, tending southeast (to the degree the roads allowed).

“Now that there’s no emergency and as long as we stay within Minnesota we don’t have to hide any more, do we know where we’re going?”

“Home” I replied to Sara. “Unless you and/or Helia need us to drop by where you live for anything we can haul in or on this rig.”

“Not for me, thanks” Helia answered first. “I sold off nearly everything I owned so that I could be a milk nomad, living for awhile in each state, sampling boutique dairy products.”

“If you don’t mind I really would like to drop by my place and get a few things.”

Sara was not the only one shattered to see that her home had been burned to the ground. Once we arrived and parked, we all felt the need to get out and have a look up closer, maybe try and pick out a few valuables.

“Oh wow!” exclaimed Rose.

Her happy joyous tone annoyed me. “What is so positive ‘Oh wow!’ about seeing the charred remnants of Sara’s home?!

“I’m not looking out the window, Tenta-chump. Look what’s in this drawer.”

The powers-that-be at the prison had stashed our purloined clothes and accessories—even my hair band!—right there in the motorhome in this drawer we’d not used and Rose looked into. Meandering around the burned-down house absolutely required sturdy footwear, with the ever-colder weather demanding as much cloth cover as we could readily manage. Now we again had it!… most of us.

“Want to try anything on, Helia?” I offered. “I’ll gladly share, if anything fits.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

The three of us filed out of the motorhome soon as we finished getting dressed, with Helia insisting upon following us despite having no footwear and remaining nude. Far as we could tell everyone in the neighborhood had left, else they were hiding inside their homes showing no signs of life.

She gave Sara’s hand a strong, friendly squeeze as she stayed behind on the sidewalk when Sara plunged into the flattened, charred wreckage, followed by Rose (wearing leather garden/work gloves on all hands except her top pair) and myself.

There wasn’t much of anything to find besides endless forms of charred wood, plastic, and other materials, and forms of charcoal.

“How long did you own this place?” asked Rose.

“I didn’t: it’s a rental.” Sara gently kicked a few wood chunks aside, adding, “Was a rental.”

There was no there there: nothing left worth taking. The one sole item she chose to take as a remembrance of this home and life now lost was the discolored metal bottom plate of what she told us had been an artistic rendering of the famous Obama for President poster. All that remained, rendered in inverted lettering where the letters were the absence of metal, surrounded by metal, was the single word:


Sara seemed to be taking this latest loss about as well as could be expected. Later she explained to me that it hadn’t truly been a surprise: she figured that it was going to happen, and was already working through the grieving process around when we picked her up, and often during our over-extended prison stay. She further expressed gratitude for and directly to Rose and Helia for being there for her as caring friends, as I kept us all safely rolling along.

Back on that day as I was driving, my mind couldn’t help wondering if Rose and I might not find the very same thing at Bubblensqueak Lake—the only home(s) we had, into which each of us had invested so much time, energy, and capital.

The warm familiar friendly feelings of a couple of Rose’s hands on me briefly startled then soothed me. “Governor’s having another noon speech or press conference or something. May we please run it on the big screen?”

“Sure, as long as you operate the A/V system so I can focus on driving.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Regular (kiss).”

Speaker of the House: Ladies and gentlemen and everyone else in between and beyond, Governor DeOderway.


Luke DeOderway: Thank Thank you you, Madam Madam Speaker Speaker.

“Can you switch to a feed that doesn’t have so much echo on it?” I asked of Rose.

“No, because the feed’s not the problem.”

Hearing gasps both in the motorhome and over the feed’s audio made me briefly look towards my wide-eyed besties, then back onto the road, then briefly onto the screen as best I could (which by design was not good nor meant to be good for the driver) then back (and staying) on the road. “Was I seeing things? Or does Governor DeOderway now have not-quite-2 full heads?”

“You saw correctly.”

He’s whacking each of his heads with each of his hands!” exclaimed Sara, obviously disturbed. “And he’s got eight fingers on that one hand!

LDO: Sorry about that. Not even 24 hours with two brains, so I’m still learning how to keep them in sync. All individuals formerly held in quarantine at various locations in our state’s penal system are now free and are in the process of returning or already have returned to their normal lives, to the degree that’s possible with their and others’ mutations and the social upheavals therefrom. While it is true that the vast majority freed themselves yesterday morning, there were still some at some locations who did not avail themselves of that option or were unable to exercise it. As of yesterday at 6 PM, only individuals normally incarcerated remained behind bars and solely based upon their criminal activity, regardless of mutation or lack thereof. (Turns heads to speak from other mouth) We are continuing to segregate those who have mutated from those who have not to the greatest degree possible, looking into superior options going forward.

“His voice sounds different out of that mouth” noted Rose. “Why would that be?”

“That side doesn’t have a full neck, suggesting to me that the larynx is malformed on that side, or at least formed differently therefore maybe shaped differently” Sara observed.

LDO: Progress is being made during this time of sudden change, in terms of people resettling in what are often new-to-them social circles, and frequently new communities.

Helia squished her loving softness deeply into Sara and Rose, initiating a group hug of appreciation. I had just enough mind share to gently wrap a tentacle around them and join in as I continued driving, my primary focus remaining on moving us onward safely.

LDO: I must emphasize the need to remain calm. There is no need for panic.

Reports have come in of non-mutated individuals racing frantically to cross state lines outside of Minnesota, reckless driving in some cases endangering themselves and others. Those of you who have not mutated and wish to move out of state have all the usual time and resources as we’ve traditionally all had prior to SOMS. No one will stop you from leaving. No one will prevent you from coming back if you need to make multiple trips as part of an organized, rational, stress-free move. Nothing has changed for you, in terms of timing and resources for moving, selling your home, and so on.

(Switches mouths) To my amazement and dismay, reports have come in of mutated individuals rushing around frantically, expressing feelings of terror about somehow being forcibly taken back into quarantine confinement, or having avoided it previously, being taken into it now. That program is over! No one is being detained nor retained solely for their mutations, no matter what their nature or severity. I do continue to ask those of you who’ve mutated to do as I’m doing and voluntarily stay away from individuals and groups showing no signs of mutation, and especially those who make it clear that they fear SOMS. Voluntarily as a suggestion some of you may want to consider some clear and obvious system of marking yourself as not having SOMS and wishing to avoid it, maybe something like S-O-M-S written out with the universal prohibition symbol atop it, on a t-shirt or scarf or whatever else, arranged in a manner such that the symbolism can be easily read and can be understood without having to look anything up.

The State Capitol is being reconfigured to make separation of mutated individuals and those who are known to have been exposed to SOMS or have strong beliefs that they have been exposed from those who’ve not mutated and have no known exposure easier. We will be sharing best practices with other levels of government within the state as well as private sector entities, NGOs, and so on, all aiding each other for a smoother, faster transition.

Related to this, we are not mandating nor designating certain cities, towns, counties, nor any other defined regions within our state as either SOMS-free or SOMS-only. This is a local decision only! I urge everyone in our many local governing bodies to proceed with caution, respect, rationality, and most especially awareness of and open acceptance of viewpoints from all stakeholders. I personally advise avoiding making any rules at this time, even at the city or town level: so far we’re doing well trusting our citizens to individually make adjustments where adjustments are needed.

It is imperative that each and every one of us continue to respect one another, assume good faith, and do our part to adjust peacefully and rationally to this latest challenging threat to life as we’ve known it. This concludes my prepared remarks at this time. (Switches mouths) I now welcome questions from the media, starting over here on the left.

Reporter 1: Governor, you’re a mutant, showing clear symptoms of SOMS. How can you or any one person fairly and properly lead a split state of mutants and non-mutants?

LDO: I do indeed have SOMS, and consider my mutations obvious enough to be self-evident, hence I’ve not directly addressed them during this speech until now. First—and this is important—mutated individuals such as I have now become remain mostly human in terms of intellect, reasoning, and related mental and emotional faculties. I retain the same ability to govern that I had yesterday, and the day before that, and the week before that, and the month before that, going all the way back to my inauguration. Second, to the highest degree possible, it is my intent to maintain a fair balance of mutated and non-mutated officials under my leadership in our state’s executive branch. Lieutenant Governor Biwayz remains un-mutated as of the start of this speech and now press conference, with existing laws of succession ensuring that she can assume power should further mutations render me incapable of executing the duties of this office.

Over here on the right, in blue.

Reporter 2: How did you contract SOMS?

LDO (switches mouths): Excellent question, currently under investigation. At no point have I knowingly consumed milk from Lakeside Bucolic Farms, made easy given that my milk consumption in general is quite low.

Reporter 2: What about the sexual transmission vector?

LDO: As has been the case for many years, I only share physical intimacy with my wife Joan, as she does solely with me, in my case eliminating the theorized and so far unproven theory of SOMS being sexually transmitted. To finish answering your original question, tracing of everything I’ve consumed over the past several weeks continues. As of this moment, no one including me knows how I contracted SOMS.

(Audience gasps)

LDO: Fear not: the world’s best researchers have been studying the whole SOMS situation for months. We’ll all have answers sooner than later.

Hearing my udder girlfriends gasping at least as loudly as what I heard over the press conference audio puzzled me. “What am I missing?”

Our governor’s become a dickhead!” Sara shouted in her usual (and well-practiced) panicked voice.

“He wasn’t before?” quipped Rose.

“Physically, not behaviorally.”

“Not the same sort of dickhead as Vagil.”

“True; no. A slightly larger standard-sized penis emerging from the crown of one’s otherwise-human head is a whole other mutation from what Virgil has going on.”

“Adds a whole new dimension to a head rub” said Helia.

We spoke over several reporters’ questions, so I can’t tell you what was said or asked, nor the Governor’s responses.

LDO: Oh this (touches erect penis coming out of head). Right. This atypical head appendage is suddenly new as of this morning. I was unaware until this very moment that it had the ability to erect like the normally-located one most men have. My sincerest apologies to those of you quite reasonably taking offense from it. I’ll have to figure out how to control it, and likely take to wearing hats or other head coverings. For the time being let’s please press on with this press conference, try to ignore it, and hope it goes down.

Lane, in front.

Lane: Given the recent reports of mutations from other brands of milk, what is the plan for ensuring that the dairy supply is safe?

LDO (switches mouths): As of the start of this speech and press conference, the latest information I have is that the new reports involve off-brand raw milk sold at small retailers, primarily in less populated areas. The one case sufficiently investigated so far involves Diggity Dawg Dairy branding, with strong indications of a link to the TodlinTown Boys, already known to have distributed the SOMS-triggering milk. The branding isn’t as important as noting that this is raw milk, as was the milk sold under the Lakeside Bucolic Farms brand. I am not taking a position on raw milk in general, only noting here that so far all documented cases of mutation for which causality is known trace back to raw milk, and we believe but are not certain also to the TodlinTown Boys product distribution network. Given their Chicago location, I informally suggest that citizens who normally consume raw milk sourced from or sold in any part of the upper midwest U.S. refrain from doing so until we all know more about what it is about these milks that sets off or creates SOMS.

Please also carefully note the distinction between the words Pasteurized and Pastured. The former refers to the process of rendering milk uniformly safe to drink, made possible thanks to the efforts of the scientist Louis Pasteur. The latter refers to cows being allowed to freely roam in a pasture rather than being confined to a pen or other restrictively small space. Raw milk can be healthy and many believe can be beneficial to health in ways Pasteurized milks cannot, therefore my administration has no plans to ban the sale of raw milk per Statute 32D.20 at this time. I wouldn’t myself drink it however, until we learn more about what-all is going on with it and SOMS, and we will be cracking down on enforcement of 32D.20 in terms of in-store sales of raw milk, which should not have been happening and will not be happening going forward.

In terms of the greater scope of your original question, at this time we have no reason to believe that any other forms of milk or milk products constitute a SOMS risk. Therefore we conclude that our state’s dairy supply overall remains safe, apart from raw milk at this time. Let’s take one from Vanna, here towards the left.

Everyone including me knew of Vanna VaVoom, whether we wanted to or not. From her start as an associate of the musician Prince, she used her powerful mind, prescient sexual instinct, and stunning body to create her own sensual star-studded gossipy media empire. For me it was always a downfall to find her at any sort of serious press conference, as things tended to suddenly get far less serious soon as she opened her big glossy-red-lipped mouth. True to form, she did not disappoint.

VVaV: Surely you are aware, Governor, of the many allusions to your full name Luke DeOderway and the concept of looking the other way. Now that you have two heads, or close to two heads, is it now possible for you to look one way and the other way at the same time?

LDO: Yes.

The Governor may well love and be faithful to his wife, though his new top-of-head penis made it obvious to all that he quite fancied Ms. VaVoom (her public pseudonym. I do not know her actual given name, and she doesn’t rate high enough in my world for me to take half a minute to look it up. You go right ahead, and with total respect to you, don’t bother telling me what you find): his head erection was raging far more than at any time so far during this appearance.

VVaV: Will you please demonstrate for us?

So it was that the iconic picture of Minnesota Governor Luke DeOderway looking one way and the other way at the same time with a nude raging erection on his head came to be, and pretty much ended the speech and press conference, or at least any meaningful part of it to those of us interested in facts and news, riding onward together in our motorhome.