“Natural mother’s claim number three? Madam Beatrice?”

This is what Kronos has to speak sixty thousand milliseconds after Rebecca told us about her art of lies. Since I’ve been on Earth, in it actually, they changed my views, one by one. He didn’t give her a minute but sixty thousand milliseconds. I’d given her a couple of minutes…

“You were sloppy even when counting nanoseconds, Astarte. Never mind about humanizing yourself.”

Aha, you bastard. I speak out loud.

“Natural mother’s claim number three: natural father of the children must come and live together with natural mother and children. Here on Earth. In this cave!”

“Denied!” – speaks Kronos.

“Denied!” – repeats Rebecca.

“Denied!” – concludes my own lawyer.

“What is wrong with you, people? Twas a normal request, don’t you think?”

“You know, Astarte, we’re not that kind of stupid. You and Kronos may be all natural but you’re none normal, at least as parents of human-sized children. For this reason, which we have anticipated days before, the twins were given to human godparents, officially their parents, who possess the capacity of introducing them to this society. I didn’t wish to use the word monster until you gave me this opportunity: your eyes have seen the monster dick of Kronos; your hormones boil your body up for a new fuck; that monster-sized penis attracts you like a magnet; it is not the mother speaking but the lusting harlot in you. Therefore your third claim has no basis and is denied!”

“But… Beatrice dear, every day, from now on, these two little soldiers will open the gates to Nirvana and the hologram of Kronos will come in front of me, awakening my senses, burning my belly, flooding my pubis, erecting my nipples, stirring my milk, damping my pussy and… and… I don’t know what else… and you find appropriate to put an exclamation mark after ‘denied’ and consider it done? Well, dear, send all your Arctic spiders to kill me now! But if this is what you ask from me, I decline. I’d either live or die. This is no life. Your call now!”

Beatrice, poor perplexed butterfly, is out of words. She just stares at me, then she turns to stare at Kronos, then back at me. Did I manage to mute her? Just wondering.

“You did. Poor giant whore! …No wonder that you’d tarnished the creation with your lusts and filth and…”

“Okay… Okay… Okay… We all need some fresh air. Beatrice, would you be so kind to come down over here?”

Rebecca sings, they dance, Beatrice included. Hah, hah… They keep whispering something together with Yvonne. I could sneak a zoom in to read their lips. Should I? Nah, must play hard, so I show them my back. To be honest, I had to take my eyes away from that marvelous dick of the daemon standing in front of me. Ongoing orgasms can’t help me out anymore, they only aggravate my desire to feel penetrated by him. I’m on the brink of losing control over my body. Beatrice! Do something! Please. Forgive me. Help me! For God’s sake, don’t let me down! Do…

(Blackout. Only partial. There are controls preventing my body from falling, my eyes from closing and my brain from turning off – like last week. She paralyzed me just in time – before I wished to peep again at him. I’m conscious about being turned into a stalagmite. Feel dizzy… Think I’ll take a nap… standing… like any honest horse… bye…by… b…)


“…ember… eep …n mind… we must let the milk flow, this is instrumental. Is she coming back?”

Beatrice confirms with a nod.

“Good then… Ahem… Hello, Astarte. How are you feeling today?”

Bit shaky. You were speaking about the milk. Go on…

“Your milk is very important to the people of the Earth. We must keep you fit and healthy so you can milk yourself regularly.”

Or else?

“Otherwise, the milk will stop coming and everyone may get in big trouble shortly thereafter.”

No kidding?

“Can’t you see that I’m preoccupied about you?”

And at least as much about my milk. What’s so special about it? Tell me!

“It is about the nutrients contained in your milk.”

Yvonne departs the group and, coming closer to the edge of the platform, asks, with a gesture, for me to stretch my hand and take her up in my palm.

“You are special, Astarte. You always were and you know that. Good or bad moments aside, you remain a unique woman. No woman currently on this planet can provide a better mother milk than yours. The proteins and fats, the carbohydrates and minerals of it make for a very particular composition. If my lab tests are correct, then I suppose that your milk will eradicate famine from our world, for-ever!”

And if not?

“Then not. I’ve already proposed a sub-Saharan territory for preliminary experiments. Drops of your milk are mixed with purified water as we speak. Children and adults will drink a dose of 250 milliliters of water with two added drops of milk. Our military will guard them, forbidding them to eat any kind of food until the doctors can prove that their organisms will need to feed again.”

Why guard them and scare them? Won’t they tell you when they get hungry again? What’s the problem?

“The problem is that people love to lie, or at least they can’t make the difference. If left unsupervised, they would eat out of lust, just for the sake of consuming unnecessary food, maybe out of fear, dunno. There are too many psychological triggers to detail.”

But the water?

“They’ve got more filtered water than they can drink. Doctors encourage them to drink leisurely.”

And what’s the catch, will they turn into superheroes?

“Not sure about that. My wish is to use this alien milk, in its all natural, unaltered state, to feed the poor, to make them rich and healthy. To make them happy.”

Very well then. I’m game. This adds a new acronym to my track record. I am about to become a COW – as in Cow Of Worlds.

“Why of worlds? Why the plural?”

Ah, do you think that you’re the first smartass taking advantage of my milk, eh?

“You mean?”

Back in the days, when the universe was harmoniously bathed in light, no one hungered because anyone could feed on radiation. Yet, immortals and in shape as they were, happiness wasn’t a given, sexual joy wasn’t enough and life satisfaction has been sinking. Eon after eon.

“How did you count eons back then?”

I didn’t, Kronos did, who cares how.

Hopeless parents procreating hopeless children hopelessly growing up only to fuck their pessimism into yet another generation of despair. Darn it was depressing. I had no idea what to do about it. So I’ve turned to Lucifer, what would he do? Surprised, he first responded that he didn’t notice about the obvious sadness. No one had told him. Then he came up with this brilliant idea of fucking me, getting me pregnant, eating my offspring and milking my milk. He distributed it in minuscule amounts, diluted with water, across the many planets…

“And did he make them happy again?”

Yes, he did. Hope and change! That was the universal slogan. Daemons danced and sang praises to their alleged lord. But I did not. I felt like a COW – used and abused.

“You’ve done many foolish things but, as it seems to me, I’m the earthly echo of your ontological stupidity.”

No, dear, don’t say that. Yvonne! Are you depressed? What’s wrong?

“When a child, I have been used and abused, like you. This made me hate all the priests, although just one deserved my hate. All the hate! Hell, hating him is like hating myself. Then I’ve turned boys into girls, more hatred at work. You said that what I’ve done was on par with the deeds of Lucifer and Loki. Flattering association… Yesterday I came up with the idea of using your milk to solve the hunger of the world once and for all… and today you’re telling me that a similar idea had belonged to Lucifer. Coincidence or not, I’m scared!”

Fearing yourself is the best method of self-control. Fearing God is the beginning of wisdom. But hating a dead man, hating yourself, is hurtful. I know that you know. I wish what you wish. So let me help you out, one step at a time. Lucifer was arrogant and abusive with everyone because he hated himself without admitting it. He had no mother, no father, no children, just staff. When you’ve reached this stage of uppity then you’re lifeless. Non-existent. But look at you, how gently have you asked to step in my palm, to comfort me after my latest hormonal breakdown (sorry about that), how you’re confessing about your nemesis. Keep being human, Yvonne, keep caring for the needy and you’re gonna live for-ever!!

“Thank you, my dear sister. You know, I’d wish to give you an orgasm myself, to comfort your craving… Only if you’d be a lesbian…”

Ah, what a kind and adorable little kitten am I holding here. Think that I could turn into a lesbian, just for you. Oh! And if we’re about to go for it, please reassure me that you won’t turn me into a male. I’d deeply hate that.

“Hah… I’ve seen your DNA, six helices. As opposed to two in ours. No chance in a century for me to understand the source code of yours…”

A century slips like a minute… A minute like a millisecond…

“Then the nanosecond and time is no more…”

It never was. Only that handsome dick of a daemon that I’d beg again for a fuck. Even a short one.

“Astarte, have you considered the possibility of never being able to meet Kronos?”

Yes, I did. It haunts me all the time. Have you ever considered the nightmare of being the only giant statue-like woman, prisoner on a planet of dwarfs who can fuck as they wish but there never will be a fucking match for you?

“I did and I’ve talked to Guy about it.”

Guy? The helicopter guy? He’s such a cute little puppy. What did you tell to him? Are you going to transform him into a giant? Did he agree?? Wow…

“No. Not that. I’m not transforming anyone into anything. Besides, I’ve got no reason to.”

Then? It rains on my parade. Again…

“You still didn’t get it, did you?”

Get what?…

“Oh dear, oh dear. They’ve told me that you are too inexperienced for my trade but I didn’t believe them. How could I? But your billion-years old history has taught you little about the works and research of Marquis de Sade, if anything at all?”

Let me see… let me see… de Sade… de Sade… I’m reading from your browsers: “Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade, was a French aristocrat, revolutionary politician, philosopher and writer, famous for his libertine sexuality.”

“Wonderful, there you go. Read them all from our browsers. Then follow me!”

Uhm, what if I’d step on you by accident? Ain’t that better I keep you in my palm and you tell me where to take you?

“No! It is not. And from now on I am the one in command. You obey, I instruct. Understood?”

Ah, now I’m reading… er… understanding… It’s the Dominatrix number you wish to offer me.

“Good girl. Told them that you’ll catch up rather quickly.”

Wait, and what about my kids? Where are they?

“Beatrice took them off the platform. Immediately after putting you on standby. They’re visiting more levels of our base together with the Colonel and some engineers. Let’s consider that they’re off to school. Are you okay with that?”

I am. As you talked, I connected with their minds, grabbing feeds from their optical nerves. They’re doing what you said they’re supposed to. Yes, I’m very content with their godparents, tough stuff. I never knew how to discipline my offspring. Oh, and I can also read that they’re close to complete their third day. Have you kept me turned off for an entire day?

“Almost a day. Yes. Astarte!, can the twins reciprocate by taking feeds from your eyes, and mind?”

Think so, why?

“Oh my. Oh my. Calling Beatrice. She’s gotta encrypt the sectors pertaining to your sexuality.”

Why dear? My sexuality is an open book.

“It won’t be after my first experiments on you.”

Really? Do you plan to do unnatural things to me?

“Let’s first wait for Beatrice… Oui… ici… ah bon… es-tu certaine?… d’accord… Merci!… Let’s go. Follow me!”