“I don’t know who you think you are,” Charlotte said through the bars of her cage, “But the moment I contact the local authorities, you’ll all be going to prison for a long, long time!”
The great green goliaths who stomped around the camp in the parking lot of a pre-War Shop N Drop paid her no mind. Standing easily over ten feet tall, they used snapped pieces of street lights for weapons and spoke in monosyllabic, guttural English. They had once been human, but something profoundly mutagenic had happened in the decades since the bombs had fallen and wrecked the old United States. Likely radiation; her PipBoy’s geiger counter had gone crazy before they’d smashed it.
Her captors clustered around the bonfire at the other end of their crude camp, an enormous beast that looked like a deer on performance-enhancing drugs rotated upon a rebar spit.
She huffed, dropping onto the floor and looked for a weakness in her new cell. Her last escape attempt had been facilitated by a bobby pin, the one that kept her medium length platinum blonde hair out of her eyes. It was a colour the mutants had never seen before, cultivated purely from a life spent out of the sun. If that didn’t tell the casual observer that she was a Vault Dweller, then the blue jumpsuit with the number ‘66’ stencilled on the back sure as shootin’ would.
Gosh, she’d been so naïve! All full of spit and vinegar, she’d been one of the few chosen to explore the surface after her Vault’s mandatory waiting period had elapsed. She’d been brought up her whole life with a ‘frontiersman’s spirit’, told often of the brave pioneers and trailblazers who sought a home for Americans in the vast, totally unexplored, and (mostly, totally, I was repeatedly assured) uninhabited prairies of North America. That the places on the map apparently already had names was not a contradiction that entered Charlotte’s head.
But now, she longed to be back in her bunk in Vault 66. Back with her heater, and her plush Vault Boy, and her BlamCo Mac N Cheese. She missed her friends. She missed foosball! But really, the thing she missed most was her vibrator.
She’d gotten these shots from the doctors before setting out. Vitality Boosts they’d called them. But ever since she’d set out, her libido had been going crazy! It had gotten so bad she’d stopped before sundown to just frig herself silly. That’s when those big, green mutant men had captured her. She’d barely had time to zip her Vault Suit back up before they’d bonked her on the head and carried her off back to their camp.
Despite her best efforts, there was no obvious flaw to this particular cell. Instead of a regular cage lock, they’d used a large combination padlock. That the brutes could remember three consecutive numbers was definitely a surprise. Perhaps she gave them too little credit. Regardless, she was out of bobby pins. If she was going to get out, it’d need to be another way.
Her stomach grumbled again. She clutched it, whimpering as the smell of cooking meat filled her nostrils. Gosh, what she wouldn’t give for a mouthful of that strange monster cervid. She’s asked for food, repeatedly. Over and over, until they smashed their pipes and chains against the bars. Later, they returned and said they had a ‘meal’ for her to try.
That meal sat in a bowl at the very edge of the cage, as far away as she could push it with her boot. Obviously it had once been a dog bowl, the embossed letters spelling Scout had been scratched out and replaced with a crude block script.
SIXY
That’s what they thought her name was. Despite her being very clear, very patient, that’s all they called her. And in that bowl was the only source of nutrition they gave her. A thick, viscous fluid that glowed green and smelled foul. As she stared at the bowl, one of the beast men clomped his way over to the cage. Looking at the vessel, then at her, he shook his head.
“SIXY EAT. NEED STRENGTH. NEED TO BE STRONG LIKE BRAKE.”
Charlotte stood, dusting her knees off. “I…I will not consume that filth. I am disgusted, I am outraged, and what’s more…I find you quite uncouth. Release me at once or I’ll…” Her eyes drifted down to the shabby loin cloth he wore. A figleaf over his shame, it did little to hide his poor hygiene. It stank of him. Reeked of masculine musk. No, beyond that. She’d smelled men before. This was beyond. This was…well, it was super human!
The creature, Brake, grinned as she noticed where her eyes had drifted. “NEED MORE? BRAKE HELP FEED SIXY.” With no further ado, he pulled an enormous, girthy shaft from his tattered clothing and stroked. It was an impossibly large organ, something that she was sure would break her in two if she were to take. And she’d thought about it often. Too often.
She turned away from the masturbating mutant, embarrassed at the situation and her own reaction. It must have been the shots! The doctors must have given her some kind of aphrodisiac. But why? Why would they want her feeling so frisky?! Could it be that this whole ‘explore the frontier mission was an elaborate con? That she was really out here to be some kind of test breeder? To determine if the seed of the wasteland was still viable after a century of radioactive exposure?
No. That was silly. Conspiracy talk, even! She chastised herself. Vault Tek has nothing but her best interests at heart, obviously. It was probably just an allergic reaction. She settled into staring, gloomily, at the floor, listening to the wet slapping noises as Brake beat his meat.
“CUTE ASS,” he said.
“...T-thank you,” she said, still flushed.
“BEND OVER AND SHAKE FOR BRAKE.”
Her brow furrowed. “I’m not…I’m not that kind of girl!” she stammered, using a phrase she’d heard in one of the ten films she’d ever seen in her life.
“SUIT SELF.” The ritual didn’t take much longer. Though their strength and stamina were both equally impressive, they didn’t seem to waste much time when it came to sex. Against her better judgment, however, this time she peeked. Just a little. The mutant man groaned hard, head lolling back as he bent his co*ck toward the bowl. Then, with terrible accuracy, he shot huge, sticky ropes of glowing green cum at the already near capacity bowl. Some got caught by the bars, lots splattered the rim or the ground around it. But some made it in.
“EAT, SIXY. OR BRAKE WILL MAKE YOU EAT.” As he walked away, he added: “SIXY HEALTH IMPORTANT. MAKE FEEL BETTER, PROMISE.” Then, having used more syllables than he usually did in an entire day, he slid his dick back in his clothes and wandered back to the campfire. Leaving Charlotte alone with the bowl of green slime.
With a muttered, foul-tempered ‘gosh dangit’ under her breath, she zipped down her jumpsuit and found her cl*t. Just one, tonight, she lied to herself. Just one org*sm. Then she could think of escape attempt ideas. As she began to rub, her mind couldn’t conjure her partners from her old life. No. All they could picture was Brake, and his gargantuan, green shaft.
***
“And that’s how I escaped the camp of Green Mutant Men!”
Charlotte laughed, looking around the Vault cafeteria at the smiling faces of her friends, who clearly had loved her story, though she could remember the details. It felt so good to be back safe, underground!
“We thought you might enjoy a nice treat after surviving on rations and scraps,” Mr. Farrows said. He was always such an excellent cook. Julienne, his Mr Handy assistant, barely did any of the work!
Mrs Coggins agreed. “A special gift for completing your mission and arriving safe!”
The Mr. Handy she’d known all her life floated into the room, his chef hat askew on his central orb. One of his manipulators carried an enormous cake that looked positively smothered in frosting.
“Oh my gosh!” Charlotte said, clapping, “You knew my favourite flavour!”
They all smiled and laughed as the cake lowered in front of her. So rich. So creamy! The cake pulsed with a glow. Wait…cakes didn’t do that.
The frosting was off-white…no…it was kind of a pistachio colour…like an off-green. Well, let’s just call it green. A green colour. And it didn’t smell like cake. But it smelled really, really good. She looked around for a fork, but there were no utensils anywhere.
“Go ahead, sweetie,” Mrs Melvin said, running a hand through her hair, “Nobody minds. Just dig in like a greedy piggy.”
Charlotte nodded weakly. There was something wrong.
“This wasn’t…I mean…I don’t mean to sound rude, but-”
“Eat up, sweetie~” Mrs Melvin’s hands became like iron as they pushed her head down, toward the frosting. She didn’t resist. She couldn’t resist. Her lips were mere inches away from tasting that delicious, creamy-
***
Charlotte woke. She found herself pressed up against the bowl of glowing seed, nose hanging over it like a curious dog. Brake did this while she was sleeping sometimes. Making her smell it, making its musk and its strange, lingering warmth enter her dreams and corrupt her mind from within.
At least, she thought Brake was moving her.
She hovered there for several, too long moments. Her eyes burrowed into the mutant sem*n like she could transform it into something it wasn’t if she just focused hard enough. This was all the food she was getting, and her stomach hurt so bad. She rationalized, searched for excuses. If she died here, then the mission would be failed. To maintain her strength, to keep her Vault’s (and, by extension, America) alive, she might have to do something she never thought she would have to do.
For America.
Her eyes darted around. The mutants were out, by and large. Brake at least was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t stand to hear him gloat about this…
She dipped a finger into the green ooze. It was indeed still warm. Radiation, she told herself. Danger! Who knows what kind of effect this would have on her vulnerable body!
For the Stars and Stripes, she reminded herself. For Old Glory, and the Legacy of Washington, Jackson, and both Johnsons, she must taste this cum!
Her heart pounded. The dollop clung to her skin. She smelled it. Frick. It smelled just like him. But…somehow more. It was pure masculinity. Like the concept of what a man was had been turned from conjectural, speculative, to a tangible thing…
Her lips closed around it. The taste exploded in her mouth, at once foul and fascinating, disgusting and delectable. It was bitter, like coffee. It was salty like a stew. She wanted to spit it out and swallow it all at the same time. Eventually she settled on the latter, but only after letting the flavour linger on her tongue like a perverse parody of a sommelier.
The first taste changed everything. The little voice that told her it was wrong, that it was disgusting and vile and definitely unsanitary and probably mutagenic, that got a lot quieter. Like someone turned the speaker on a radio nearly to off. Not silent, but quiet. So she could hear it scream that there was something tainting her mind when she went for seconds.
***
When Brake’s party returned, there was no hiding that she’d given in. The bowl was half empty. She’d pulled herself away, cleaned off her face as best she could, and retreated to the other side of her cage. But that smell remained. She should have gone blind to it, inured to its potency. But it never faded. Never dropping to the back of her mind. If anything, the musky odour only got more noticeable. More unavoidable.
“YOU ATE.”
Not a question; a statement. Charlotte felt so ashamed. She should have starved herself, rather than stoop to such depths. She didn’t dare respond to Brake, keeping her eyes locked far away from her tormentor.
“SIXY NEEDS A REFILL.”
The familiar sounds of the mutant beginning to stroke himself. Flesh slapping flesh, his low, guttural grunting. She bit her lip. His body was brewing another fresh batch for her. More of that disgusting mess…
“HEH, GOOD GIRL. NICE ASS.”
Her eyebrows raised. What did he…she straightened her stance immediately. Somehow, she’d arched her back without even noticing, pushing out her hips and showing off her ass. What had gotten into her?!
Brake groaned out and sprayed another load into her bowl. He waited for a while, waiting to see what she did. Unwilling to give him a show, Charlotte kept stock still. Only after she heard his steps clomp away did she investigate the bowl. It was nearly back to the rim again. She shuddered, sliding her hand in and feeling just how hot it was when it was fresh. When she was absolutely, totally sure Brake was gone, she tasted a cupped handful.
It was even better than her first. Her body felt hot too. So hot, so hard to think. Her puss* tingled and drooled, demanded attention, But her hands were busy! With some attempted reshuffling, she finally gave in and used her cupping hand to hold herself up and her other hand to finger herself. The only logical solution was to lap at the cum bowl like a dog.
She told herself, again, that this was to keep her strength up. That this was a necessary sacrifice of dignity for the greater good. But that didn’t stop it feeling like a depraved luxury. A full bowl of special creamy cum, all for her.
In a feat of superhuman control, she kept her moans as quiet as possible.
***
Days passed, the time marked not by the rise and fall of the sun, but by the bowls of cum she emptied. One. Two. Three. The last time, Brake had arrived when she was licking the bowl clean. He hadn’t waited for her head to move. Instead, he shot his load into the back of her head, and let the green slime pour down her head and into the bowl.
It was after this fresh disgrace that the changes began. Or at least, she had started to notice them. She was hot all the time, so she sweated and felt gross. With some reluctance, she unzipped the front of her Vault Suit. Here she noticed that on her bare stomach was a patch of green. Stripping down in a panic, she noted other green spots had appeared too! The cum was affecting her physically as well as mentally…she had to stop.
But stopping was easier said than done. Now used to having a full belly, her body protested starving with double the pangs. When she masturbat*d, and she had to masturbat* often, her climaxes were slow to arrive and disappointingly brief when they did come. And a new threat: cravings. She yearned for the disgusting seed, her tastebuds aching to taste its corrupting foulness once more. And when she slept, her dreams told her that her abstention was futile.
She had a cum addiction…and going cold turkey wasn’t an option.
With tears in her eyes, she sated her hunger. Instantly feeling better, she frigged herself to an explosive org*sm. When her thighs stopped quivering, she noticed that Brake had watched the whole sordid display. But he didn’t say a word. When he didn’t immediately retreat, her fingers began to move again. As did her tongue. And as the brute watched, she feasted on his spent seed.
***
The changes were hard to ignore after her tenth full bowl. The green had spread to over half her body, and she was in a low-grade heat for most of the day now. But beyond that, she noticed it was getting harder to think. Her mental acuity had never been the strongest aspect of her SPECIAL chart, but now it was difficult to recall more difficult words and concepts.
“Is this making me dumber?” she asked Brake, who was busy jerking himself off toward her face.
“NO. CUM MAKES SIXY SMART. SMART LIKE BRAKE. MAKES FORGETS DUMB WORDS. EASIER TO THINK THAT WAY.”
She tried to figure out if that made sense when the first hot rope of cream splashed into her mouth, which hung open a lot when she tried to think. She kept it open to catch more creamy cum fresh from the source, the blessed taste dousing her tongue and swelling up her cheeks. Her worries melted into that lake of green goo, and disappeared entirely when she swallowed.
***
By bowl twenty, her Vault Suit no longer fit properly. Without a mirror it was hard to tell, but her body had swelled. Especially around her breasts and hips. She tried to make her titt*es shake by jumping up and down, and the movement split out the fabric around her groin! Now everyone could see her pretty, dark green puss* lips…well, she was wearing underwear, but those were always so wet now. Especially when she was eating. So she took those off. Then everyone could see her puss*!
Her breasts were also sooo big now! The zipper had trouble for a while, but now it wouldn’t even reach the top. She was forced to walk around with her cleavage exposed, which a lot of the mutants seemed to enjoy. As did she, as it meant her skin was allowed to breathe. She was always so, so warm. So, so sweaty…
Other mutants had begun to stick their co*cks through the bars. At first she thought they’d just missed the bowl, but no, they wanted her to milk them herself. What lazy jerks! Thankfully she had plenty of time on her hands, and her bowl got clean faster and faster so it was good to have new sources to fill it.
At first, she just used her hands. Milking them was a lot like milking a cow, sorta. She’d seen educational movies when in the Vault about what farm life was like before the War, so she figured out how to make the mutants spurt their milk. They thanked her and called her Sixy, which she laughed off. Those silly boys didn’t even know her name wasn’t Sixy! It was Charlett, obviously!
But their co*cks, which smelled so much like the creamy cum, had to taste good too. So she tried it! She licked the next co*ck she saw, and her eyes went crossed. It tasted amazing! Not just the meaty, salty taste of the cum, but also like sweat and musk and…and…oh, gosh. It was just too good for words!
She sucked their loads straight from their co*cks, but when she offered to do the same to Brake, he refused. He only wanted to use the bowl! Silly, but she didn’t mind. It made her nostalgic for her first couple tastes, many bowls ago. He did ask for her bra to wipe himself off with, which she gave him without a thought. When he forgot to return it, she giggled and flitted over to the other edge of the cage. Oh well! She’d have to remind him next time she saw him.
***
After bowl forty or fifty, it was so hard to keep track, the last big change happened. Charlee’s fat green tit* had gotten so big that she wore them outside her suit most of the time now. That meant they weighed her down. And despite her increasing muscles as of late, it still felt better to put less strain on her back by walking around on all fours. Just a few hours a day, of course. Plus it meant she was closer to the bowl that Brake continued to fill!
But that wasn’t the big change. The big change, the one that caught her by surprise, was the fullness in her tit*. A pressure that she knew, instinctually, but didn’t dare give a name to. It was impossible! She hadn’t had sex with her puss*, despite how often she had been flashing it at her captors.
And yet…
Charlee squeezed her left breast…and gasped! Hot milk shot from her nipple like someone had stomped on a water bottle. But that’s not how breasts were supposed to work, she thought, but then squeezed her right breast and didn’t think too hard about it anymore. It felt too good! Her nipples were like tiny cl*ts that spurted milk! It was…it was so nifty!
But as the days wore on, her tit* got fuller and fuller, and she was having trouble milking herself. So when the mutant cuties came over to f*ck her mouth, she tried sticking her tit* through the bars instead!
But ugh, they were so big now that they couldn’t fit! Thankfully, one of the real smart ones came over and opened the door, so there was this big space that freed up a lot of room! They came over and she sucked them dry but ONLY after they milked her. They were rough at first, their huge hands making her squeal and cry. But they got the idea that they had to be gentler. And Charlee was smart enough to give them an extra good blowj*b when they were extra nice with her tit*. She was, like, training them to be good milkers!
But still…none of them would f*ck her puss*. She’s push it to the bars, wiggle it in front of them, play with herself right in their eyesight but they didn’t get the hint. GOSH. How did she keep being the smartest one in a room full of dummies?!
Finally, Brake came over while she was being milked and explained what was going on.
“HUMANS HAVE TASTY BRAHMIN SIXY BECOMING SQUIRTER. SPECIAL MUTANT. LIKE BRAKE, BUT ALSO NOT. LIKE YOU. WON’T EAT YOU. BUT WILL KEEP YOU LIKE PET. SQUIRTERS FUN TO PET.”
Sixy nodded. Wait, wasn’t her name Charlee? Well he did say Sixy, and the cumbowl said Sixy…the thoughts bonked into each other in her mind, and she tried to square the circle to make a squircle, but thankfully Brake helped by putting a dick in her mouth. She always found her thoughts less harder to think with co*ck to suck.
Once he’d politely drained his balls down her throat and used her face to clean himself off, she asked the important question: “But why not f*ck me in my puss*?”
“GREEN co*ckS BIG, TOO BIG FOR WEAK HUMANS. BECOME SQUIRTER, ONLY THEN GET BIG co*ck,” Brake explained, his hand patting her head. “ALMOST. JUST A FEW MORE BOWLS TO GO.”
If that’s what it would take to finally sate her needs, then she’d do it. Her whole mission was to be f*cked and get filled by co*ck. She was pretty sure of that. That’s why she’d left the Vault in the first place, after all!
More bowls, and more co*cks, and she got stronger, and smarter, and more full of milk, until one day, she knew it was here. That moment when she’d finally crossed over into her final form. She’s grown tall, but still not up to the shoulders on the others. She’d grown strong, able to hold her breath and suck for much, much longer. Her Vault Suit was in tatters now, but she still wore it as rags to remind her how far she’d evolved. From naive, weak human to powerful, strong, and drippy centre of camp activity.
When she presented her puss* for Brake’s inspection, he slid his finger inside and it felt like it might be heaven. But when his finger disappeared and was immediately replaced with his co*ck, she KNEW it was.
He stuffed her needy hole to its absolute capacity, and she could feel herself stretch around him, her whole body bending and molding to be the perfect co*ck socket for his use. Each time he slid inside, more thoughts got knocked loose. She couldn’t say anything, she couldn’t move or thank him or cry out that she loved his co*ck and cum.
So she did the only thing she could do.
Sixy squirted.
***
Wattz and Schiovone stepped through the enormous junk gate with a mix of fear and anticipation. They’d been trading with this particular nest of Super Mutants, to their ever increasing profit. Immune to the rads, they could go where unmodded, unghouled humans couldn’t. Nevertheless, these were volatile, dangerous creatures. One slip up and you’d be a smear on their wall.
They brought their ambassador for Super Mutant relations along, but she tended to get distracted once she got in smell range of them. At least at first. Becky trailed behind the pair of humans, sawed-off shotgun slung over her shoulder. She was some kinda mutant mix of human and mutant, but much, much, MUCH smaller. Only up to Wattz’ hip. Nevertheless, she had a special rapport with the beastmen, and they let her and her alone carry a gun around. Apparently, they thought it was cute.
Through a tunnel of armed, glowering faces they marched. The men had their hands raised at all times, Becky giving little waves towards the ones she knew. They were led to an enormous tent fit for a post-apocalyptic king. In the centre was an enormous throne made of hubcaps, exhaust pipes, and mufflers from ICE engine cars. And atop this sat two figures. Well, one was sitting at least.
Atop the warlord’s lap, a second finger bounced. 8 feet tall maybe and of a lighter hue, she didn’t so much resemble Super Mutant currently plunged into her puss* as look like his tonal counterpart. Where he bulged with muscle, she bounced with curves. Where he glowered with suspicion, her eyes rolled back in ecstatic bliss. She eagerly bounced on his titanic prick, the tattered remains of blue fabric clinging to her skin flapping in sync with her rhythm.
“HUMANS” The mutant boss observed, crudely squeezing her exposed breast to her wanton pleasure. “I AM BRAKE. WHAT HAVE YOU TO TRADE.”
Schiovone parted to let Becky approach. “Dear Mister Brake, we’d be very keen to offer you new sightings of radstag and megamoose for your hunting parties. As well as a few new titanium items for your perusal. In exchange, the Traders Consortium of New Bismark would politely request any spare Fusion Cores or Desk Fans that you may have on offer.”
The green woman bouncing on Brake’s lap stopped, only to scream as a truly impressive amount of green spunk poured into her and spilled down the seat of the throne. Her belly even bulged outward, and the two humans averted their eyes after confirming what they thought they saw. Becky kept eye contact, though her attention did wander to the fluid pooling at their feet.
“TRADE DONE. HAND ME SPECIAL METAL AND MAPS. GLAD WE STOPPED EATING HUMANS. HUMANS TASTY BUT MEGAMOOSE MUCH MORE TASTY.”
Becky nodded. “I’ll have to agree.”
She nodded to the pair, and the exchange began. Wattz began converting his information to the crude, hide maps that the Super Mutants used and Schiovone told one of the guards where he could find the superjet scrap they found. The thing had torpedoed into a lake at like Mach 3 shortly after the bombs fell, so most of the titanium was in one place, just submerged in radioactive water and compressed into an irregular ball.
Meanwhile, Becky approached for her customary headpetting. Brake liked Becky, god only knows why, and he requested to pet Becky whenever she came by.
“What’s up with the new greenie?” she asked, pointing to the woman still coming down from an org*sm right next to her.
“NEW SQUIRTER. NAME’S SIXY. VERY PRETTY AND SMART. MAKES MILK FOR BRAKE’S TRIBE.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Milk? Is it safe?”
Brake looked at her like she’d asked some great, philosophical conundrum. “IT TASTES GOOD.”
Becky blinked, looking at the fat nipple dangling above her head. “Can I try it?”
The warlord squeezed his lover’s tit, squirting a jet of green milk into Becky’s half open mouth. Not expecting this, Becky coughed and stepped back, tasting only a fraction of the milk. To her shock, she recognised the taste. She power walked over to Wattz.
“Rad-Away,” she whispered.
“What?”
“That giant lady they got…she lactates Rad-Away!”
Wattz looked at his partner. Schiovone wasn’t a doctor, but he knew about chems a bit. “How the f*ck is that possible? Super-Mutants are f*cking walking glowsticks of radiation!”
“I DON’T KNOW. But we should buy her immediately, if we can.”
Wattz shook his head. “We don’t buy people.”
“You bought me!” Becky scoffed. “Just…we set her free, like you did for me, and she’s a part of the team if she wants. Or set her free! We pay her in…whatever currency she wants, caps, candy bars, whatever.”
“WHAT’S PUNY MEN TALKING ABOUT?” Brake asked, standing up. The Super-Lady slipped off his co*ck and fell to the ground, giggling.
Becky raced back to stand before him. “How…uhh…how much for her?” she asked, pointing at Sixy.
“SIXY NOT FOR SALE. SIXY VITAL MEMBER OF TRIBE. CIRCLE THINGY AT CENTER OF WHEEL,” Brake declared, seeming more agitated than they’d ever seen him. Becky changed tack.
“It’s just that her milk is…really tasty! Many puny humans would want to try it. We could maybe bottle it for you and sell to others. Lots of people out there would like to taste her milk, is all.”
Brake calmed himself, sitting back on his throne. Sixy had totally missed the conversation, content to lick the cum that had spilled onto the floor.
“PROPOSAL INTERESTS BRAKE. WE SHALL CONSIDER, BUT ON ONE CONDITION.”
Becky gulped. “Name it…sir?”
“BECKY MUST COME BY MORE OFTEN FOR DINNER. AND SHE MUST SAY NICE THINGS ABOUT BRAKE WHILE I PET HER HEAD.”
“Oh…” she looked back to Wattz, who gave her a thumbs up. “I think we can swing that, sure.”
“TRADE DONE.”
The humans and Becky celebrated. Brake did too, but quieter. The humans would love Sixy’s tasty milk. They’d love it so much they’d want more, and more. Because Squirter milk was not just addictive to non-mutants…but it also turned them into Squirters too. He’d sold the last Squirter he’d made for huge profits, at least until the town had figured out when half their population turned into milky green slu*ts. But this one…this one he’d keep around.
He lifted Sixy back into his lap and gave her a kiss on the head. She grinned, happy as always to be so close to her favourite cum source. She didn’t quite follow what had just happened, a lot of words that flew by super quick. But the idea of having more people taste her milk sounded like a super keen idea!
Her tit* were always so full, after all, and she couldn’t wait to let more people try it!
