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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

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Giving Mother Miara a titjob while you're lactating...

I shall return with more profound wisdom soon

[Hhhhhh anon, your brain is so wrinkly and pretty. Fem reader.]

TW: Unrealistic lactation (no pregnancy); Cultish/religious themes; Mild exhibitionism.

It was all new.

This entire dynamic. This world you had been thrust into. From leading such an ordinary way of life to becoming an actual goddess'... What did he call you again?

Chosen? Yes, Jonesy says that word a lot. You're Miara's chosen. Chosen something. You're not too sure what you are to her yet, which should be more worrying than it is honestly. Even more worrying is the way your memory seems to fail you when you try to recall certain aspects of your life before... All this, really. She's always there to tell you it doesn't matter, that you're overthinking what's natural.

You're her charm, and that's all there is to it.

See, your current place of residence is, for lack of a better word, an island. Fairly secluded, Miara raised it herself. This is, as far as you can tell, her home here on Earth. And it looks nothing short of a fairytale, you'll have to admit. It's always mildly sunny. That type of morning warmth you can feel on your skin when you step outside to catch some air before getting ready for the day. Harmless, elegant greenery sprouts everywhere, though neatly enough to never touch paved paths and only ever coil cozily over rudimentary infrastructures. Wildlife is scarce for now, but Mother says that is something to dwell on later. That's fine, you don't mind the silence, it's comforting for once, you feel coddled here, safe, wanted.

The residents, apart from yourself and the Lady, are almost entirely comprised of angels who come and go. Celestials of the three casts as she has told you before, workers, warriors and worshipers. One such worshiper, the one you'd consider to be Miara's right hand -More of a shoulder parrot really- is Jonesy, a somewhat insufferable stickler of a throne that's often in charge of ensuring you're "properly taken care of" in Mother's absence. You're very glad he's occupied right now.

In fact- You rise from your squat over the petunias, glancing up to check if he remains where he was. Yep, still a far distance away, you can vaguely trace the angel's figure, playing a harp for a group of lower-rank angels and one or two monsters, rare sights around here. Satisfied, you resume perching over the plants.

Having been stripped of addictive commodities, such as your phone for example, you don't have too much to busy yourself with nowadays. Miara oftentimes will refuse your requests to work with the low-rank angels who usually do maintenance around the island, insisting you remain well-rested and find graceful hobbies. Problem is, you like working, you enjoy getting your hands dirty every now and then. And, with enough pestering as well as some choice words, you've gained the ability to work on the Lady's main garden, the one surrounding an altar made mostly of marble. You're no grade-A gardener, and some guardians definitely seemed to pale a bit once they witnessed you work, but you know this is a skill you can master if you put your mind to it!

And really, with nothing better to do these days, that's mostly what your mind is on anyway.

Alright. You think you've trimmed more than enough right now. Plus, your back is starting to hurt. Groaning, you set down the shears and stretch onto the very tip of your toes, arms to the sky as your spine pops pleasantly.

It wouldn't be so tiring to hunch if your breasts weren't always so full.

You still remember how light they felt on your first few weeks here, how normal they were. You're not even too sure what compelled you to accept when Miara suggested you begin lactating. Maybe it was her reassuring tone, or the way she described the many uses it could have, it could have just been the way she almost huffed luridly when describing how safe the procedure would be, how you'd always be tended to.

You know this is a thing for Miara.

Siadar, the former gods of humanity, do have kinks. You'd say you're surprised, but if humans are creations made ever so vaguely in their image, then it only makes sense. Sins of the father, or so they say. There's more nuance to this, you know you can pick it apart further, but you'd rather not go mad any time soon. It's imperative your frail mortal mind stay untouched right now, or rather, minimally unmolested- Because you're well aware you've already suffered changes. Nonetheless, the Lady decidedly enjoys the sight of your chest swollen with milk. You're very sure this isn't the standard rhythmn of milk production for a pregnant woman, but then again, you've never been pregnant before- And you've never induced this process for the sake of it... Still, you don't want to believe this is what moms have to endure. It feels like it's too much.

Feels like she wants it to be too much.

You remember having asked the goddess about it once. You were peeved at her, for a multitude of reasons, but mainly the recurring one, that you're not allowed to leave the island. Jonesy was helping you drain your breasts, something that was initially very humiliating for you but eventually became trivial. The irritation and desire to lash out manifested in a very petty question- Why don't you have tits, you remember snarking bitterly.

Jonesy immediately gave you a terrifying glare, but Miara sat next to you as calm and jubilant as she's always been. Laughed even, as if your question was so frivolous that it shouldn't be dignified with any offense. In retrospect, she might get that question a lot from humans.

Breasts are for lessers, she simply said, and the subject was left at that. Who are you to question a goddess... But then, does that mean none of them have breasts? You find that a bit improbable. It can just be a matter of pref-

" Haven't you worked enough? "

ACK-!

Humans aren't capable of flight, but you sure jumped a good distance in the air. Ow. The ensuing bounce of your boobs is thoroughly unpleasant.

Miara stands beside you, height dramatically decreased. She still towers above all others in this form, but less jarringly so. You could even take her for a particularly tall monster. It always bothers you how she can just appear. No warning, no sound, one blink and she is physically present. Unnerving.

" M-Mother... "

The siadar observes your work, something about her gaze is superficial, dismissive almost. Her arms are crossed in front of her robes and she looks placid enough to be mistaken for a classic painting.

" I think you have, charm. "

You're not even sure what she's talking about. " Well I- I like to keep busy, y'know? " She does.

The goddess finally deems it time to glance at you, once warm eyes becoming very intense. You don't like it, you hate the burning pressure of those golden colors, how the radiating shapes around her irises swirl with focus- It's as if you're getting sucked into a blinding heat and it's dissolving you inside out, demanding your full regard, your everything.

Horrific.

" You require draining. " She comments after a bit.

Looking down, you note the small yet nonetheless present stains of milk on your gown. You hadn't even felt it, you could have sworn it was dry seconds ago. Your arms raise to cover the mess, defensive maybe, or just ashamed of being in this state in front of a being like her. The goddess frowns, it's an alien expression for her perfect face.

" Did Joakeel not- "

" I told him I didn't need to. "

It was the truth.

You don't want strangers touching your body at her behest. It makes you feel... Dehumanized. You already allow Jonesy to do far too much for you, and with this permissiveness comes the feeling of uselessness, the biting lack of autonomy, and a sense of loss. Loss of skill perhaps. What if you stop being able to take care of yourself because you're used to having everything be done for you at the drop of a hat?! You need moments of insignificant defiance, if only just to feel like a tenth of a normal person. It's already concerning that you feel bad when Miara is away. This strange sentiment of... Longing. You miss her. You miss her warmth and her voice and you feel like a puppy wagging its tail as soon as she comes back. When the Lady is away, you find yourself falling into foul moods, and it's possible that you've been taking it out on the poor throne lately.

He doesn't deserve your attitude, he's just doing what he's told to, he doesn't know better. You're not going to fuck him over further and claim the angel simply didn't show up to drain your breasts at the exact same time he does everyday. Not that she'd buy it anyway.

Silence rules all for a couple of seconds, even the petunias appear to stop swaying softly in the wind. It's hard to read her face, until she cracks that same old smile.

" I see, you would rather I do it... That pleases me. "

That wasn't... Well, it's not a baseless assumption, but.

" I- N-No, my Lady- " You're not sure how to de-escalate the awkwardness that just rose from the dead.

The creator tuts. " Lying doesn't suit you. " For some reason, even if you know damn well that wasn't the point you were trying to make, you still feel bad for disappointing her. " Besides, I just cannot let you roam freely in that miserable state, dear. "

" It- It's fine, I can- "

" It tempts me. "

The thoughts in your mind evaporate, the first instinct is to look down from Miara's face. Your eyes bulge, but not nearly as much as her robes.

Oh.

O-Oh.

This isn't exactly entirely new to you. There have been a handful of tense, sensual episodes between yourself and the goddess- She's touched you before, made you feel heights of ecstasy that rendered you dysfunctional for entire days, and you've seen her bare as well. Had the privilege to place your hands upon a body never meant to be yours to know. You've brought an entity older than you can guess to orgasm.

And it was nothing short of gorgeous.

But it's never gone further than that. Miara never made attempts to sheathe herself in you, even if it was the only thing going through your mind when she had you ride her hand like a feral creature. You're not sure whether to be glad or frustrated- Because every interaction that's mildly sexual between you two is forever marked by that ever elusive "what if...?". What if it'll go further today? What if she decides now is the occasion to go all the way? What will happen to your mind when your brain is flooded by an avalanche of pleasure it can't hope to ever process?

You're distracted again by the twitch of her cock beneath the pink fabric of her outfit.

" I'm... Sorry? " Lame. Lamest thing you could have said, but you're getting sweaty and you can't bare to look at her face, not after you've been caught gawking.

" Do something for me, my chosen. "

Oh fuck, come on, did she have to use that tone?

" ... Yes? " Your face heats up.

" Oh come closer, when have I sought to hurt you? "

Perhaps not physically, but you've gone through a myriad of emotions in her care. It's oftentimes hard to tell if you're truly happy here or just repressing distaste. Eitherway, you do as she says, fiddling with handfuls of your light white gown in suspense. Miara's hands, more akin to paws given how warm and big they are compared to you, fall onto your hair. She strokes strands away lovingly, sliding some behind your ears and humming at the sight of you.

You can tell she's happy, because Miara's joy always spreads to the world around her, colors become more vibrant, the sun shines brighter, and there's always that signature warmth as if you're being held from all sides. It makes you want to keep her happy, do anything in your power to please. Is this what angels feel?

" My lovely, stunning little charm. " She purrs. " Take your gown off. "

There's nothing beneath it. You both know this. In your moment of hesitation, you stretch once more to look beyond Miara, in the direction where you had last spotted Jonesy, and- He's still there. However, you're fairly certain he's observing you two, the crowd previously hearing his performance now absorbed with what appears to be light conversation. That unwavering eyeball sees all, fixed on you and the creator.

Your chin is guided back to Mother with a harmless claw. " I am here. "

" Forgive me, it's just- "

" Observation doesn't mean judgement, dear. " She cautions, as if reading your mind. " Now, bare yourself. "

And you do, with no real attempt at being seductive. Part of you wants to check if the throne is still watching, but you've already been warned once. So, all you do is step out of the cloth pooling around your feet, somewhat put off by the way you're still leaking, slowly. Gross.

The goddess seems to think differently of the sight however, an audible sort of swoon leaving her. When you dare meet her hues again, she's lifting her robes, heavy garbs dragging on an impressive length that pops free much too close to your person. She's... Well, perhaps massive is a bit of grotesque adjective, but you have no other way to describe it. Miara is hung, -Which you suppose is fitting for someone as connected to fertility as she is- And pretty, and every single time you glance at that girth you can feel yourself biting your own lip with a fervor, salivating. But also eerily humanoid.

You're willing to bet that's a modification she applied to her own genitals, though it boggles you why Mother would want a phallus like that of a human's. Is that not... Inferior, by siadar standards?

" Am I really that much of a conundrum to you? "

Ah, caught again. You must be really easy to read for her. " Well, a bit. " You figure honesty can't hurt that much.

The siadar nods. " Dwelling on it will do you no good. You're not here to unveil mysteries, my sweetest dove. "

It's hard to care about the nature of her words when she makes you feel so wanted. Maybe being wanted by a goddess is more important than anything else human society has told you should be prioritized. Maybe your core values are nothing but rubbish that this holy entity will now replace, correct.

Maybe you have to stop thinking so much.

So, when a pale finger curls invitingly, you get even closer to the huge being, coming almost face to face with the pallid thing standing at attention this whole time. Oh, she definitely calculated her height for this. No doubt.

Your tits are held up, and before you can ask what's happening, her cock slides between them, tip parked right at your chin. The position is lurid enough to have you stunned in silence, allowing Miara a couple of quick, experimental rocks. She squeezes your breasts greedily and you moan, pain turning to mild relief, milk drooling between you and onto her twitching length.

This shouldn't be as hot as it is.

" Hold still for me. " Miara murmurs.

Flustered beyond measure, all you can do is nod and stand slightly on your toes to accommodate the goddess' grasp of your oversensitive breasts. At the very least, she's always considerate with you, starting slowly. With each grind of that oddly hot girth, the Lady rolls your tits generously, draining them at the same time that she squeezes herself. The sensation of her dragging against your skin sends shivers to all the wrong places, your hairs stand on end and you pant quietly, noises overshadowed by your Lady's own melodious ones.

Some gross side of you is taking immense enjoyment out of this. A petty, validation-craving voice that claims you're special, this proves you're the best- Because, if a god tittyfucks you, then clearly you must be doing something right, no? The fact that she seeks you out, takes pleasure from you, tells you how good you feel, they're all indicators that you're cherished and loved and so much more than just a regular Joe. You love that. Silently, but you do.

The more milk she pulls from you, the louder each slap of flesh on flesh becomes. Lurid, gross plaps ringing amidst irregular breathing. Droplets of your own extract slide down your front, tickling your arousal when they pool between your legs, teasing. With a more slippery surface come harder, longer strokes. You're almost jostled by the motions of Mother's hips, a milk-coated cock knocking into your chin awkwardly.

You don't know what- Oh, who are you kidding? You know exactly why you're going to do what you're about to. It's because you want her to praise you, to tell you how good you are and how proud she is of her little lesser. So, leaning your head back a bit, you allow your lips to brush against the tip of her dick on its trip back forward.

Miara looks thrilled by the initiative, eyes widening for a brief moment, before she lids them and huffs, nodding at you in silent encouragement. Enjoying her approval way more than you'd care to admit, your lips part, allowing a small tongue to sample her glans from time to time, swirling beneath it, teasing the giantess. You can taste your own milk on it, mingled with the intense flavor of her precum, it's a foreign, lewd mix that'll imprint itself into your mind forever.

You really, really don't have the guts to meet her intense gaze, but her smile- That pretty, glowing grin... The tint on her cheeks. It makes you so happy in an almost instinctual way. You want to do more, trying to catch her tip between your lips. Unfortunately, she pistons too fast and ends up dragging herself across your cheek. It's like trying not to drop soap in the shower, you miss again.

Embarrassing.

Joyous, amused laughter rings from above- And even though you were considering crawling into a hole mere seconds ago, you find yourself giggling quietly as well now.

" Try again, charm. Slower. " She cautions.

To her credit, Miara helps by sedating her pace as well, allowing you to finally pop as much of her as you can into your mouth. There's too much of your own milk coating her to be sure, but there's something almost sweet about her taste. You find yourself swirling your short tongue all around, trying to sink onto her further in this awkward position, feeling her balls knock against your upper body- Her growled, unintelligible expletive is thrilling.

A groan of disappointment almost makes its way past your lips when she retreats, sliding out of your warmth with a loud pop.

Drunk from your own arousal, you attempt to slide the goddess' hands off your soaked tits, she gives you a mildly ponderous look before allowing it, that dark grin stretching up pale cheeks, unfiltered glee that you're now willingly kneading your breasts against her length. One paw reaches for the back of your head, gently edging it forward on her next thrust.

Miara vastly stops moving after that, panting in place, throbbing in your mouth while you do your best to vigorously titfuck her- Moaning around her cock with your eyes closed. Some part of you knows this probably constitutes as worship. Mother says she doesn't care much for it anymore, but it definitely still pleases her. You wonder why, a mystery for another time...

Nonetheless, the realization makes the act a lot more intimate than it already was.

You've never really declared love to Miara, while the goddess has been nothing but affectionate to you. While you never did tell her off either, you never returned that fervor. Never dignified her with those three little words Jonesy tries to coax you into admitting.

You wonder if that hurts her.

Ultimately, it's not something you want to simmer in with Miara's dick sitting hot on your tongue, so you focus on sucking her off while she grinds lightly. You know she's getting close, the odd whispered murmurs, the way her head cranes to the side, spare hand rising, finger caught between teeth- They're all signs. You glance up, finally meeting her blazing golden hues.

" Beautiful, precious darling- I knew you'd come around for me. We can be so happy together. " She huffs.

It's hard to resist.

It's so hard to resist.

" ... I- I love you. " You say, near soundless in your timidity, not even sure if you mean it. But it feels like the right thing to say here, now.

And she comes.

Jarringly fast, with a snarled cry, an ugly face full of fervor and triumph, almost smug. Ropes of pearly cum hit your face before you have the composure to suck on her again, dripping down your chin in hot, gross globs. You can't even try to swallow everything, it's pooling back around her flexing cock in mere moments. Her load is always heavy and generous, too much and too soon.

Miara pulls back slightly, you're coated in whiteness, unsure how much of it is milk or her seed. Does it matter? You're too focused hearing her sing in orgasm, milking -Hah, the irony- Her dry.

Several silent seconds pass as your motions slow to a crawl, the siadar catching her breath. You're not sure if you should say something, standing there feeling like a melting wax candle, but oddly content. Mother smiles lovingly at you, then rolls her eyes.

" Jonesy, do come out of the bushes now... "

A sweaty-looking throne scrambles out of- OH COME ON, you spent all morning working on those!

#Mother Miara #terato #monsterfucker #monster girlfriend #not sfw #minors dni #yandere monster #yandere teratophilia

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