Written by circes_cup :: [Saturday, 18 March 2017 22:00] Last updated by :: [Sunday, 26 March 2017 22:03]
SYNOPSIS TO THIS POINT
A wrong turn in a Kentucky cave dropped Julia and Howard into a world run by amazons who derive their extreme power for a drink called Nourishment. Initially, the couple wanted only to return to earth. But then, Julia found her own lips on the Nourishment, and soon found herself in a body imbued with immense strength, intelligence, and pleasure. And Howard, although initially set on returning to Earth, didn’t take well to her suggestion that the amazon world might just be too much for him to handle. There was nothing Howard liked more than a challenge. His going to prove his resilience and endurance to her – and himself.
This story contains adult sexual content, and violence. If you are not of age to read this stuff, don’t. No resemblance between these characters and real people on Earth is implied or intended.
Howard drifted in and out of consciousness to the THUMP-THUMP of the jet ski on the waves. He was in no state to hold on to her, so she had draped his body over one shoulder, arms dangling down her backside, feet dangling at the front of the jet ski, a thick female arm wrapped over his thighs to hold him in place.
“I think my arm is broken!” he tried to shout over the roar of the engine.
“Don’t think about your arm. You have a concussion,” his girlfriend’s voice howled back. “You have to stay awake!”
He tried. And his efforts were aided by the violence of the ride. Every bump the jet ski made against the waves slammed Julia’s shoulder up into his midsection. And her shoulder, it was as hard as a bowling ball. Having it jammed up into him was like being pummeled by a prize fighter, uppercut after uppercut. He could tell she was running the jet ski at a fraction of its normal speed, presumably trying to balance the urgency of getting home against the need to prevent further damage on the way.
But before the homes and the bay crept over the horizon, Howard heard the motor cut its power and felt the jet ski turning towards the rocky shore. Julia dismounted in waist deep water, hoisting the jet ski in one arm and Howard in the other. He felt himself carried up the rocky slope, supported beneath his rib cage by her forearm, thicker than a fence post. The sky darkened as she navigated a path to a crevasse between two outcropping bluffs. There was a small natural grotto there – a cavity in the rock that provided shelter from the sun and the salt spray. Waves filled the air with a THUMM but did not reach the sheltered space. A small fissure in the rock dripped fresh water onto the ground.
“This doesn’t look like a hospital,” Howard groaned as she sat him against the rock wall of the grotto.
“We don’t need a hospital.” Julia undid the clasp on her bikini top. Her jubilant, full breasts wobbled free, once again forgetting to acknowledge the effect of gravity before settling into a buoyant, teardrop shape. She kneeled in front of him, her right nipple only inches from his face.
“Suck on it,” she ordered. Her nipple pointed at him expectantly. Already the size of a small strawberry, it swelled to the size of a big ones, as if anticipating the embrace of his lips. “It will help you heal. Trust me.”
“It’s hard to trust you after everything you di—”
But he didn’t have time to finish his objection. Julia had gently forced his head back into the wall with her right breast. He tried to push her away with his good arm, his efforts no more effective than they would have been against the entire weight of that bluff collapsing on him. The engorged stiffness of her nipple forced his front teeth apart. From there, instinct took over where reason had balked, Howard applied the gentlest of sucking pressure.
He was met by a torrent of warm liquid, gushing into his mouth with surprising force. He tried to pull away.
“Howard, you are hurt bad. You need this.” Her superhuman tit kept his head jammed against the wall, his mouth receiving the unrelenting torrent of liquid from her nipple. “Don’t fight, honey,” she whispered. “You won’t win.”
In an instant, the jet of milk somehow DOUBLED. Howard wasn’t interested in winning, he wanted to respond. He was interested in breathing. He gulped for dear life and tried to concentrate on keeping his nostrils clear of her voluminous breast flesh.
“You scared the daylights out of me, you know. A concussion, Howard? A broken arm? Probably internal bleeding, too? Why did you feel this compulsion to push yourself beyond your limits? Were you trying to imitate me and the girls? Impress us? Howard, we are so much stronger than you. And so much tougher than you. Antics like that can get you killed. This is the third time, and it needs to be the last.”
Howard tried to answer, tried to explain, object. But his mouth was filled with her oversized nipple, continuing to jet milk into his body. All he could do was nod and hope that he didn’t drown in the flow to which Julia was subjecting him.
“Good.” His girlfriend paused, and then sighed. “Aaaaaaahhhhh. Who knew it would feel … so good?”
In a saner moment, Howard would have wondered how a woman that was not pregnant could lactate. He would have wondered how breasts could produce a stream of liquid this intense, reminding him more of an industrial nozzle than part of the human body. He would have wondered what any of this insanity had to do with his concussion. But Howard did not have the luxury of contemplating these things. He has being water-boarded. Or milk-boarded.
“You are so cute,” his girlfriend purred. “Your little male body can barely keep up with what my ‘girls’ can produce. And my ‘girls’ aren’t even really trying yet.”
In an instant, the flow of the milk somehow DOUBLED, AGAIN, billowing his cheeks wide. Howard struggled mightily against her industrial-strength body, failing to budge her even a millimeter. He felt milk streaming from the corners of his mouth and coming out of his nose. He gulped for dear life, until his stomach felt sure to burst.
Once he was convinced all was lost, she finally pulled away, and then snuggled her hard body into his softer one. “That should be about enough,” Julia purred. “The guide back home said to give you a gallon but I gave you a little more just in case.”
Howard’s insides felt like they were going to split from the liquid assault. His bruises screamed in pain as they were jammed up against female curves with all the softness of cinderblocks. She had nearly killed him, with her boobs of all things!
The snuggle gave Howard a front row view of the offending breast. It had lost only a bit of its pertness form providing a full gallon of milk – a barely perceptible effect even to someone that had been looking for it. And even as he watched, the breast filled out again, restoring itself to its fully rounded shape within seconds.
“That was sooo nice,” she admitted, squeezing the super-breast gently. “Although you don’t necessarily need it, my ‘girl’ is ready for more. And the other one hasn’t even had a chance to play. Are you sure you don’t have room for another gallon or two?”
Howard’s stomach ached at the thought of more being forced into it. “Please, no.”
“Ok, then. You’ve still got lots of healing to do. I’m going to put you down for a while so that you can rest and recover.”
Howard raised an arm in objection but it was worthless. He felt his pried jaw open by her index finger. One supple shift of her body, and she was back inside him. The milk this time was just a few ounces, but with an oddly tangy taste. Drowsiness hit him like an avalanche, and within moments, he was collapsing into her arms.
When he awoke, he was lying on the bed, at the house.
She was beside him, in a lace top and panties. Positioned on her side, she was thumbing her way through a book. A clean and fresh smell filled the room, and her hair was freshly wet, as if she had just taken a shower.
The book was as thick as a brick – clearly a reference tome rather than a novel. But it was what lay behind that book that captured the greater share of Howard’s attention: her two voluminous breasts stacked on top of each other like the bottom two thirds of a snowman. Even the sight of them made his insides ache.
“Oh, you’re up,” she said, allowing the book to close with a THUNK. “You napped for longer than I expected. I had enough time to take a shower and memorize a few more of the advanced medical texts.” She patted the thick tome. “It’s amazing what my body can do.”
Howard wanted to upbraid her for not taking him to a hospital. But grogginess got the better of him. He tried to sit up, but stopped when he felt a lancing pain in his arm. The limb was in a splint.
“Don’t strain yourself. You’ve still got a concussion and a broken bone.” She tugged at a bow between the lace triangles of her top, undoing it.
The room was starting to spin again. Howard closed his eyes momentarily, as if the insides of his eyelids might offer an explanation for all this.
“You’re not out of the woods yet, but another gallon-and-a-half should do it.” Her voice was cheerful.
Howard felt the mattress shift, and opened his eyes to see Julia rolling onto her back. With the lingerie top already loosened, her ‘girls’ shrugged off the black cups of lace, seemingly annoyed at having their frightening volume covered for so long.
“Was it painful, when you hit the water? When you broke your arm?”
“My poor honey. I’ll wipe out some of those bad memories, too.” Julia wrapped her meaty arm around her boyfriend and brought his face close to her breast. “Try to relax, baby.”
For the third time that day, Howard felt a rock hard nipple drive his lips apart. He braced himself for the torrent to come.
When Howard awoke later that afternoon, he felt fantastic. But why? His memory was foggy. He remembered diving. He remembered her voice, ‘you have a concussion, Howard.’ But the rest was a haze. That was common with concussions, he knew. As he rolled over in bed, he waited for any hint of nausea or any other symptoms of a concussion. But none came.
On the nightstand was an arm cast. It looked familiar. Hadn’t that been on him? Howard examined his arms, trying to remember which one had worn it.
Also on the nightstand was a necklace – just a simple cord with a shell on the end. “A gift for you, my over ambitious diver” the note in English said. It was in Julia’s handwriting. “This is supposed to be a magical shell. They say that, in time, it will reveal your fortune.”
Howard slipped the cord over his neck and wandered the house. It was quiet.
Grabbing an extra pair of running shoes, he stepped out onto the beach. He searched his body for injuries, not remembering exactly where he should be looking, but didn’t find any. There was a strange sensation between his legs as well, as if something there was more … substantial. Howard’s thoughts returned to the way he felt immediately before the cliff diving: unusually energized and alive. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something … perhaps, super?
Was it the fruit he had forced down his throat the other day, that he had dared to do what other men had not? It probably had a delayed effect, he realized, such that he was only now experiencing the benefits. Or perhaps it was genetics – that he could benefit from the Diana fruit in ways that men of local genetic stock could net? Either way, he had never heard other men never speak of feeling this athletic. There was something unique going on, Howard realized: it was either the man, or how he was built.
Howard flexed a bicep, and was surprised to see that it had grown, if even a little bit.
“Checking out your big muscles, little man?” The voice was Mindy’s.
Nothing could have killed the buzz faster. Howard turned to face her. She was with Amanda in the hot tub. Only their heads, arms, and the upper halves of their breasts were visible. The rest of of them was somewhere beneath the surface.
Howard approached the tub tentatively.
“You DO look more jazzed up than before,” Amanda commented. “You must have gotten yourself another big load of boob today.”
Howard searched his memories, but they were a fog. “What do you mean?”
The girls laughed. “She must have slipped him some of the forget-it juice, too,” Amanda said.
“But can he really be that clueless?” Mindy cocked a perfectly formed eyebrow. “The guy has been here for weeks now.”
“What are you two talking about?” Howard insisted.
Amanda ignored him. “It’s not for us to judge whether a guy is clueless or just stupid. We’ve never had to live inside such a weak brain, Mindy. We can’t know what life is like from their perspective.”
For a moment, Howard fantasized about hitting Amanda for that comment. But just then, she hoisted herself out of the tub, her breasts and massive muscles rising out of the like a nuclear missile launched from a submarine. The fearsome power of the girl quelled Howard’s desire to strike. And the sight of the eighteen-year-old’s naked body brought an involuntary shudder to his. Only eighteen years old, and she had tight, sumptuous curves of which Earthly porn stars could only dream. Those pheromones must still be in my system, he realized.
“Gotta go,” Amanda announced, slipping on her bathing suit. “If Mindy gives you too much shit, just smack her for me.”
Howard watched her body disappear into the distance, clouds of sand billowing behind her superpowered stride. He was more confused than ever. “I don’t understand what the hell you guys were talking about. What has happened to me?”
Mindy let out a sigh, closed hes eyes and settled her head on the lip of the tub. “Let me ask you a question, Howard. Why do you all of us Nourished have such awesome tits?”
“Because it’s attractive to the opposite sex?” Howard proposed, trying not to stare.
“You really are clueless, aren’t you?” Mindy grinned, opening her eyes. “That would only be needed if women have to compete for men. We don’t.”
“Then I don’t know.”
“It’s part of our superiority, dummy. Men can’t produce jack, except the occasional little squirt between your legs. But these …” Mindy cupped her breasts. They erupted out of the water, nosecones of yet more ballistic missiles. “Let me ask you another question: all that extra energy you have – did you think that you got on your own?”
Where was she going with this? “I don’t know … I thought that maybe, I … coming from different genetics … the fitness regimen I’ve always had … and just a natural affinity for the outdoors …”
Mindy laughed. “You feel like a champ because of HER. She PUT that power into you. And she can take it away any time she likes. A few days of no tit you’ll be just a normal guy again, as weak as all the other guys who don’t have a girl to feed them.”
Mindy closed her eyes and tilted her head back again. A male spa attendant emerged from somewhere inside the house. He rubbed some scented oils below her chin, and then bore his thumbs into her temples. She responded with an “aaaaaahhhhh” and settled further into the tub, clearly accustomed to being pampered.
Howard’s brain was still somewhere back before the scented oils. He gestured at her chest, and then his own body. “You mean that … does THIS?”
Howard watched the girl’s head sink more deeply into the tub. He could barely resist the temptation to follow Amanda’s suggestion and smack her – or maybe just push her head the rest of the way into the tub, to fill her mouth with suds rather than condescending comments. But the memories of the grotto, of the bedroom, of what Julia had forced into him – they were coming back now. Mindy was not making this up.
“I’m going to go for a run,” Howard announced as laced the running shoes. He wanted to burn off some of the his pent-up energy. Or maybe it was her energy, just injected into him. He needed some space to figure it out.
“Suit yourself,” Mindy announced to the grey sky. “But don’t go too far. You’ll just piss your mistress off.”
“She’s my girlfriend, not my mistress,” Howard retorted as he jogged away.
“Whatever you say, little man.”
Jogging away was a good choice – away from Mindy, from his girlfriend, from that house. On the wide open beach, his thoughts had room to spread out. He found his body settling into a fast clip, not the pace of the Nourished, but something he would have considered worthy of a road race back home.
His mind, too, seemed to regain its momentum. Don’t be intimidated, Howard reminded himself, and you will excel. Other Earth men never would have gone back into those caves. But he – he was flexible, humble. He and Julia loved each other. And he had sensed, without knowing exactly how, that there was opportunity in this adventure. Perhaps the fruit could be synthesized to fight human disease on earth, perhaps it could be adapted for men. When Howard agreed to revisit The Weald, he had no idea where the opportunity might lie. But now, his girlfriend had given him something that could make him stronger … faster … smarter. Of course, these benefits came with the humiliation of feeding from his girlfriend’s breast. Other men would have run screaming from the insult of it. But that was what made Howard different from other men, he reminded himself. He could adapt.
Howard picked up his pace further, not feeling tired in the slightest.
It was a good hour later that Howard arrived in a beachside town. Shops and beachside stalls lined a boardwalk. Further inland, substantial-looking offices and stores lined paved roads. Howard didn’t need to be literate to figure out what was what – libraries and government buildings and the rest were all obvious by their architecture. Howard approached one building fronted by meandering columns shaped like tree trunks. It had banners with pictures, people clearly on holiday, wandering in, and wandering out. Howard wandered in.
It was a museum – a free one. The main gallery was impressive: more stone columns shaped like tree trunks soared four stories into the air, where they branched out into a stone canopy that formed the roof of the room. Cut glass windows were placed between the columns, their design mimicking the dappled daylight of the forest. Placed throughout the gallery were displays with simple push buttons that even a child could operate. School groups of young men wandered the gallery.
Howard approached one of the displays. It had a picture of the all-too-familiar fruit on it. He put on the headphones and pushed the button.
A woman’s voice, deep with authority, filled his ears. “The Early Days. In the days when the Diana fruit was first introduced to the world, the concentrate process had not been developed. Women ate the fruit raw. These women noted fuller lips, accentuated curves, cleaner skin, a better proportioned face, and more vitality. At the time, both men and women believed that the fruit’s magical effects were intended to allow women to better compete for the attention of men.
“Nothing could have been further from the truth. As time went on, the concentrate process was improved to create what we know today as Nourishment. Through consumption of the concentrated form, the true nature of the fruit’s effects became visible. The fruit did far more than make women attractive. It made them faster, smarter, stronger, more perceptive, and invulnerable to harm. These advantages clearly eliminated any dependency women may have had on the other gender, and quickly placed women at the top of the social hierarchy. With a matter of years all of The Weald’s leading politicians, business executives, scientists, warriors and athletes were women. Little did these early pioneers know that some of the most significant effects of the fruit would not be on physiques of women, but on the physiques of men. Please proceed to the next display.”
Howard put the headphones down, circumnavigating a pair of mothers, each nearly the thickness of the columns, to get to the second case. He donned the headphones and pushed the button.
“The Modification of the Male Body. The fruit did more than enhance women’s bodies. It empowered women’s bodies to alter those of men. At a superficial level, women discovered they could use their pheromones to express desire for a man sending his body into an elevated amorous state that superseded his reason and willpower. But on a deeper level, these early Nourishers discovered that they could go beyond simply stimulating men’s bodies, to actually changing them. Through her milk, a woman imbues her man with greater endurance, greater resistance to disease, more vitality, the ability to recover from injuries at a highly accelerated rate —”
That doesn’t sound like a bad thing, Howard thought.
The voice continued. “— a larger and more resilient penis, and most importantly, shorter recharge periods between events of sexual intercourse. In short, by consuming his woman’s milk, a man’s body is transformed into one that better satisfies the woman he serves. He becomes an optimal instrument for sex.” The display produced silhouette images of men before and after a nursing regimen. The man in the after column was a bit more muscular to be sure, but by far the most remarkable feature was his manhood, thick as his wrist and extended well down his inner thigh. Howard realized that this was why Ruth’s husband always wore knee-length, baggy swim trunks tot he beach. “Of course, the glands that produce this basic milk are not the only ones in the Nourished breast. For an introduction to the Contributive Glands, please visit the next display.”
As Howard walked, looked up at the stone trees, somehow more menacing than they had first appeared. The room, which previously had felt comfortable to Howard, now gave him a chill.
“The Female Breast – a Bouquet of Powers. It was not long after the first Nourishers began feeding their men that a direct correlation was observed between the state of mind of the woman and the effect her milk had on her men. These correlations are caused by the Contributive Glands, the most common of which are Lethargy, Obedience, Amnesia, and Pathos. The Lethargy Gland is only about the size of a pea, but its secretions can put dozens of men to sleep for days, or wipe out their memories. The Obedience Gland, also the size of a pea, produces for a short period a strong compulsion to obey the voice of the woman who produced the secretion. The Amnesia Gland has a destructive effect on a man’s memory; and unlike the Obedience Gland, its effect is permanent. And finally, the Pathos Gland, of course, is a vehicle for anger it malice. It is not actually single gland, but a cluster of several dozen smaller ones, each the size of a caper, each containing a different bacterial pathogen. These pathogens are identical to many of those found in food poisoning. Depending upon which glands are activated, and to what degree, the resulting milk can cause temporary illness, a decline in a man’s health, a lifetime of pain, or even death. Additionally, women’s bodies have been known to develop Contributive Glands other than those described here. Consult a medical text for a full list.
The chill in the air grew colder still.
“One could be forgiven, of course, for believing that these physical changes – the enhancement of her body, the subjugation of his – are the totality of Nourishment’s effects on our society. But of course, we now know that such physical changes are just the beginning. Please proceed to the next display.”
“It gets WORSE?” Howard blurted, out loud.
Howard buried his gaze in the floor as he walked to the next display. “The most important effect of the fruit, arguably, is not physical at all, but instead societal. Before the Diana fruit, birthrates for men and women were roughly equal. The fruit has altered the birth rates of each gender, such that ten males are now born for every female. This allows women a multitude of sexual and romantic partners. Meanwhile, the fruit modified the emotional composition of the female brain, disassociating sex from love. This, in turn, enables women to cycle men in and out of their lives, supplementing deep and committed relationships with ones that are shorter and based solely on the physical pleasure of sex. Marriages and casual affairs can co-exist with no degradation to the emotional health of the women who participate in them.”
Howard was freezing now. And just when Howard thought the awfulness was over, it continued.
“By contrast, a woman’s milk has the opposite effect on her man, enhancing his associations between sex and love. The longer a man is with a woman, the harder it is for him to leave her. In this way, Nourishment codified in our romantic relationships the hierarchy already seen in our bodies, namely, that women are more powerful, placed in positions of authority, availed of a multitude of options where as men are weaker, in a position of service, and committed only to one woman.
“… in summary,” Mindy’s recitation continued, “Although Nourishment augments a woman’s attractions, we should make no mistake: her body is not designed to appease a man’s. Rather, hers is designed to surpass his. She is stronger, faster, smarter – more capable than him in all respects. Her body is able to transform his to better serve her sexual needs. She can enhance his emotional loyalty to her even as she avails herself of multiple other partners. In short, she is built not for the appeasement of her men, but for the domination of them.”
Howard’s insides were consumed with a desire to wretch.
Howard didn’t remember leaving the museum. He didn’t remember how many displays in the main gallery he had viewed, and how many he left untouched. He wandered out of the building in a fog. Where once the milk had been, his stomach now contained only a ball of anxiety, boring a hole into his organs. His body was a vassal of hers? He was being redesigned for her pleasure? She could put him to sleep, make him forget stuff, compel his obedience? Kill him off, and with ailments that appeared no different than natural causes?
He felt a wave of vertigo and had to steady himself on the the lip of a table. It was part of one of the vendor stalls on the boardwalk.
“I’ve seen that shell before,” a man’s voice said. “You are not from this land.”
Howard remembered the shell pendant dangling from his neck. He looked up. The man’s eyes were blue, like glacial pools. The table on which Howard had steadied himself was replete with similar shells.
“I’ve met your … how do you say … girlfriend … before. You are blessed man, to be her subject.”
Her subject, Howard thought. A mere servant to a lord whose armory was filled with supernatural weapons. “You’re right, I am not from this land. And I have to admit, I wonder how any man here could call himself blessed.”
A ripple of anxiety marred the surface of those deep glacial pools. Howard looked about. Men at the adjoining stalls had not reacted. But a stylishly dressed woman a dozen stalls away had turned, frowning. Two herculean girls on the beach, although surrounded by a cloud of noisy men, had also turned.
“Use discretion, son. You are a visitor here. Show respect for our ways. It is only through the power of these women that our society achieves prosperity, justice and peace.”
“And servitude.” Howard added. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I don’t show respect for cultures that don’t deserve it.”
A dozen stalls down, the frowning woman’s eyes narrowed in disdain.
“You fool,” the vendor hissed. “Do you think they cannot hear the whispers of your lips, the beat of your heart, the rustle of the wind through your hair? You are an open book to them. And perhaps you should focus on making your pages more pleasant to read.”
The disapproving woman was clad in a black one-piece. Solid fabric near the crotch and the breasts gave way to strips in the midsection, like the bars of a prison. Between the strips were glimpses of abdominal muscles as big as Howard’s fist.
Built not for appeasement but for domination, the museum had said. Howard felt the numbing chill return to him.
“My truck is across the street.” The vendor pulled a cotton sheet over his wares. “Allow me to take you home. To be out in public like this, your neck should have a tattoo, and your mouth more restraint.”
Every bump in the road roiled the knot of anxiety forming in Howard’s stomach. Built not for appeasement, but for domination, the museum had said. Who was he returning to? The sweet and vulnerable girl he had always known? Or a weapon with the remnants of his girlfriend’s soul inside it? And is there a difference, Howard wondered, between our power and our person? Or does our personality shape itself around the realities of what we cannot do, and what we can? Howard didn’t want to know the answers. He wanted time away from these women – time to collect his thoughts.
The truck rattled to a halt. They sky had grown a shade more grey. The palms – they rustled in the unsettled air, the motion of their leaves like whispers. What would become of him in this place? The air – it had a chill to it now, just like the museum.
“Weather is coming in,” the vendor informed him.
Howard thanked the vendor for the ride and stepped out of the truck. He hesitated. He didn’t want to go further.
“I’ll stay here until you’re in the house.” the vendor announced. “I would be remiss if I allowed you to endanger yourself further out there.”
Howard began a steady walk back to the house – back to the woman whose power he had only now fully comprehended, whose true nature, unfettered by Earthly weaknesses, may only now be fully revealed.