From drug-powered spectral eroticism to an all-out MILKY WAR!!!

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Disclaimer: This work contains adult materials including sexually explicit activities, strong language, extreme violence, breast expansion, lactation, racism, the enslavement and mutilation of children, extreme political overtones, and vaginal vore rebirth. Reader discretion is advised.

TSF Series #005-2 is an indirect sequel to TSF Series #005-1: Ghost Milky in… The Cookie Crumbles. It is not necessary to read TSF Series #005-1 in order to understand the events and characters of TSF Series #005-2, but it can help.

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Chapter 1: The Milkies in… Assault on Rotterdam

Date: December 24, 2055
Time: 05:22 UTC – 06:22 LT
Coordinates: 51°N 4°E (Netherlands, Europe)

The sun crept above the horizon, illuminating a sea of dense clouds the color of concrete. The ocean below was swept into a torrent by the northern winds, powerful enough to prevent the water from freezing, yet cold enough to make it deadly to humans. It was a dismal yet calming sight, one showing the brutality of nature, while encapsulating a certain beauty all the same. However, that all changed as a flock of white birds soared down from above the clouds, taking the sky for themselves.

The birds were none other than geese. Ones with lush white feathers that fluttered in the wind, and wings that flapped up and down at a rapid pace. Casting a stream of wind that propelled them forward and kept them upward. It was a seemingly innocuous sight, but as they drew closer to the ocean, their size became clear. 

They were no less than twenty times the size of a typical goose. So large that it should have been difficult, if not impossible, for them to fly. Yet not only did they soar across the sky with ease, they did so while carrying goods. Packages, satchels, and assorted containers coated the backs of half of the geese, but while the rest carried humans on their backs. Groups of three or four, all strapped onto a saddle, their bodies dressed in baggy full-body suits, and their heads covered in thick helmets that covered every inch of their face. These hundreds of riders remained silent as they ventured eastward, at least before they saw the impression of land looming past the edge of the sea.

With this destination near, the riders aboard one goose in the middle of this gaggle sprang to life, and their helmets chimed with the words of the first of its three riders.

Rider 1: “Our destination is near. We will arrive in Rotterdam in T-Minus 5 minutes. Our mission is to assimilate the leader of the Grand Oligarchical Democratic Syndicate of Activesoft, Willy P. KoKdiK, located at the top floor of Pedofielkasteel. We are to avoid conflict if necessary, assimilate any humans we come across, and free any prisoners we encounter. The other members of Sigma Corp will be tasked with fending off the occupying military forces. We are not to assist them if it has any chance of compromising our mission. Understood?”

Rider 2: “Gotcha!”

Rider 3: “Affirmative.”

Rider 1: “Good… And you’re all feeling alright? No second thoughts?”

Rider 2: “Heck no! It’s been soooo long since I fought in a war, and now I’m finally on the side of justice!”

Rider 3: “Ugh. I cannot fathom how you can view war with such optimism, Gomme. Even if it has been decades since you last saw battle.”

Gomme: “Well, sorry that I’m not all bitter like you, Paneer. I personally find this opportunity to be a riveting one.”

Paneer: “There is nothing riveting about battle. This is a mere necessity to make the world a better place and free the enslaved masses from their vicious masters. Nothing more, and nothing less.”

Rider 1: “I’m glad that you two are getting the bickering out of your system, but remember, we are entering an active war zone, so try to rein it in a little.”

Gomme & Paneer: “S-Sorry, Madame Misa.”

Misa: “Trust me, it is not going to be pretty based on what I’ve seen, and we don’t have as much info as we did back in the Greenland oil fields.”

Paneer: “So, expect the worst, same as always?”

Misa: “Exactly! We have already lost thousands of Milkies, and the G.O.D.S. have sent in reinforcements from Neo Prussia. Unless we want thousands more to die, we cannot fail. Is that clear?”

Gomme: “Crystal!”

As the trio of Misa, Paneer, and Gomme finished their pre-battle pep talk, they heard the sound of gunfire pierce the air. Despite being at least a kilometer away from the mainland and two kilometers high in the sky, the army of the G.O.D.S. had begun firing upon the geese.

The anti-air artillery filled the sky with a flurry of gunfire. Much of it failed to so much as graze the geese, as it was near impossible to aim accurately over such a distance. However, even a 1% accuracy rate is enough to take down some targets, and the three saw the goose before them take a burst of bullets directly to the wing. The bird, unable to support her own weight, let alone the cargo on her back, separated from the flock, flying slower and lower with every passing moment.

Misa: “Crud! Gertrude, evasive maneuvers! Everybody else, brace yourself! There’s no way we’re going to make it to Pedofielkasteel like this. We’ll go in as fa—”

Before Misa could let out the rest of her command their giant goose, Gertrude, shifted her body, narrowly avoiding a missile that exploded roughly 50 meters overhead. The explosion and stray pieces of shrapnel spooked their animal companion and caused her to flutter away from her peers. 

Gomme: “Oh sweet baby, don’t worry, everything will be alri—”

Gomme’s reassurance immediately proved itself to be inappropriate, as a missile collided with a nearby cargo-carrying geese. Causing her, and the goods atop her back, to erupt in flame, before falling down to the coastline below.

Paneer: “FRICK! They are not messing around!”

Misa: “Gertrude, we need to make an emergency landing! Dive down!”

The goose heeded her rider’s request, soaring down and away from the bulk of the anti-air gunfire. Misa hoped that this maneuver would allow them to slip under the enemy radar. That this goose, flying at nearly ten meters a second, would be fast enough to avoid any attack. Sadly, she was soon proven wrong. 

As Gertrude reached the final kilometer of her flight, a bullet pierced her long elegant neck. Blood burst from her skin, staining her beautiful white wings a deep crimson and sending her body into a panic. She flailed and spun as she made her descent, only to collide with an extravagant home a few blocks away from the coastline. Her body crashed through the roof, crushing it along with most of the second story.

The bird found herself coated in rubble and dust as she landed on the ground floor, a weak groan escaping her beak as the three strapped along her back freed themselves. Disorientated from the fall, it took them a moment to get their bearings, and the first one to make a move was Misa. As soon as she could walk, she ran to Gertrude’s face, where her shimmering blue eyes were half open. Life still remained within her body, but as the wound from her neck continued to release blood, and a second pool of blood escaped the bottom of her body, it was clear that she had little time left.

Misa tore off her helmet, revealing the face of a woman with deep brown skin, silver hair tied into a set of plump twintails, and a pair of dark eyes moist with tears. She looked down at Gertrude like a child would to their dearest pet, bringing her gloved hand to the goose’s face and ruffling the short feathers lining her face. Gertrude looked up at Misa, let out a faint moan from her vibrant orange beak but. Before she could say something more, her head flopped down, and her eyes shut. The subtle heartbeat of the bird then vanished, and as Misa continued to hold a hand against her face, she could tell the body was growing colder with every passing second.

Misa: “Abschied, Gertrude. You were more than an ally. You were a friend. I shall not allow your sacrifice to be in vain!”

As Misa said her farewell, she crouched down and began examining Gertrude’s chest, ruffling past the feathers before finding a nipple positioned right outside of her breast. While birds typically did not have breasts, the giant geese of the Milky army were a different breed of creature. Ones who carried with them ample mammary glands, and whose bodies offered milk to all who suckled upon their teats, which Misa did. With tears still wallowing in her eyes, she did her best to drain her friend of her milk, and after a minute of drinking, she rose her head, a drizzle of milk pouring down her lips.

Misa: “Alright girls, things didn’t go as planned. We’re a solid three kilometers away from Pedofielkasteel, and will need to go on foot. The streets are bound to be swarming with troops, so we are going to fall back on plan B.”

Gomme: “Ah beans. You mean we’re going through the sewer?”

Paneer: “Would you rather walk through dookie or fight dozens of capitalist cyborg slave soldiers?”

Gomme: “I was told we were gonna do the latter so…”

Misa: “Gomme, I admire your enthusiasm, but it’s too dangerous to take that approach. When your enemy’s acting aggressive, use stealth!”

After Misa said that, she plopped her helmet back on, where her voluminous hair effortlessly fit inside of its protective folds.

Misa: “We’re on the south side, so we’re going to need to ford Nieuwe Maas. Or what’s left of it.”

Paneer: “…You sure about that, Misa? Because it’s—” 

Gomme: “—SUPER icky!”

Misa: “No matter how ‘icky’ it may be, we have a mission. And we shall achieve it for the future of Terra and for the Milky Communist Utopia! For the MCU!”

Gomme & Paneer: “For the MCU!”

Following that decree, Misa, Gomme, and Paneer all left the rubble filled ruins of this home and walked down the streets. 

War had littered these streets with debris. The bricks of half demolished buildings. Overflowing piles of rubbish that hadn’t been picked up in weeks. Vehicles that had been abandoned and tattered in ongoing warfare. And, of course, the corpses of those who have fallen. 

Innocent humans who were forced to flee their homes, but were unable to reach any form of salvation. Cyborg soldiers, their bodies dressed in dark bulky armor, had been shattered and toppled as if their bodies were made of stone. Then there were the fellow Milkies, whose remains were in far sorrier states. Heads were smashed like ripened melons. Limbs were torn and tossed about. As for the core of the body… Most of them were stripped and discarded after having been ‘used’ by the enemy.

The trio all felt ill as they witnessed this needless death and the desecration of their comrades. Yet, they refused to allow this horrific sight to sink deeper into their minds. Instead, they carried forward, staying close to buildings and out of sight, before they reached the river that split this city in twain. It was once a mighty feat, a pride of a nation and a major hub for international trade. Now… it was hard to even call it a river.

One week ago, the entrance to the river was blocked off. A dam of rubble was constructed, and it reduced the flow of the river to a trickle. This caused the river to stand at mere two meters deep, and in the intervening week, it had also become a dumping ground. Refuse of all varieties peeked over the surface, turning the once vibrant blue waters into a murky brown. 

And the bodies. So, so many bodies. Bodies of humans who once lived in this city, their corpses decomposed beyond recognition. The corpses of cyborg soldiers who were cast aside like mere trash by their brethren. The corpses of giant geese, glorious animals they were, left to rot amidst filth.

This once proud river had been rendered into a cesspit so rancid that none should enter it without hazmat equipment. So contaminated that it would take months to clean, even with the ample resources of the Milkies. 

Dressed in their flight suits and coats, and with their heads covered by helmets, the trio did not have proper protection to get across this river. But as they looked across and saw an unguarded entrance to the sewer system, along with the Pedofielkasteel looming beyond a dense fog, they knew this was their only choice.

With mutual sighs, Misa, Gomme, and Paneer all walked down a sloping path of stone and mud before entering what remained of Nieuwe Maas. There, they began the laborious process of wading past this thick water to their destination 350 meters away. It was a daunting process for many reasons, and to avoid thinking of the wretched carnage before them, they retreated to the recesses of their minds. Where they asked themselves how they got in this fine mess.

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Chapter 2: The Milkies in… Milky Memoria Trinity

Misa recalled the Christmas of 2052. When she was living in V-City. A corporate controlled city state in what was once the United States of America. She was squatting in the public library with thousands of other people. Food had grown scarce, the cold of the winter was overbearing, and the loudest thoughts in her mind were that of escapism. Yet, reading books in the local library had ceased to captivate her. For stories always ended, and this awful reality would always be waiting for her at the end.

She had neither hope nor expectation that things would, or even could, improve. To her, her life had already come to an end, and she was just biding her time until death. There was nothing for her to achieve or accomplish… and the same was true for everyone around her.

As she looked out a window at the aggressive blizzard outside, she thought about leaving. About going outside to the frigid waste, discarding her clothing, and allowing the cold embrace of death to take her into another world. It was a fantasy that captivated her more than any book, and all she needed to make it happen was to find the courage within. However, right as she was at the precipice of amassing the resolve she needed, she heard a ruckus from the second floor of this expansive library. She hid in response, holing up in what was once an administrative office.

Misa remained there for roughly an hour before she heard a banging on the door. She opened it, hoping for the best, and was greeted with a naked woman. One with long twintails, huge breasts, and a tall slender figure. A woman she would later identify as a ‘Milky.’ The Milky looked at Misa’s body with lust. From the stubble around her lips to her frail board-like frame, clad in clothes one size too large. Misa tried to back away from the Milky, but she wasted little time pinning Misa down and tearing off her clothes. Misa cried out as this happened, but the Milky above her was far stronger, and wasted little time before perching herself atop her Misa’s dick.

Misa cried out in horror, for she did not want to be reminded of this part of her body, yet her words fell on deaf ears. The Milky raped Misa then and there and, after five minutes, Misa erupted inside of this strange woman. She was left sobbing by the end of this, but before she could ask her assaulter any questions, she felt a tingle across every facet of her body.

Within the matter of a few seconds, her untamed curly brown hair extended into a poofy mane tied in twintails. Her gruff young face became soft and statuesque. Her narrow frame became curvaceous as her chest expanded outward, her waist grew narrow and taut, while her butt ballooned into something comparable in size to what laid on her chest. Every trace of hair beneath her eyes dissolved into nothingness. Her limbs burst with muscle for a brief moment, before contracting into something both lean and soft to the touch. Lastly, her penis slurped itself inside, leaving behind a teensy nub above a slit at the bottom of her torso.

She had become a Milky. She had, miraculously, gained the type of body she had always desired for herself. 

The hours following this were a blur for her. One filled with shock, horror, euphoria, and sex. Lots of sex!. She screwed men and women alike, came to know her new form in a deeply intimate way, and every time they finished, they would gain a body just like her’s.

By sundown, every person within the library had been pursued and transformed. Everyone had become a Milky. Once this goal was achieved, the masses of thousands of Milkies were greeted by their originator. A spectral transdimensional being known as Ghost Milky.

She explained that she had traveled to save this world from destruction, and they were to be her army in reclaiming this world from its capitalist masters. The people who would usher in a new era. One filled with love, peace, equality, and communism. The Milky era of humanity!

Misa and the Milkies rejoiced at this call to action. They were given the opportunity to save themselves, their species, and their planet from the malicious Grand Oligarchical Democratic Syndicate who controlled it. So, they wasted little time before taking the first step. By the end of that week, the Milkies had launched an attack on the G.O.D.S. who ruled V-City, and assimilated the leaders.

However, this was merely the beginning of a far greater plan. A plan to reclaim the entire world of Terra and defeat the 52 G.O.D.S. who had broken it up among themselves.

Misa, having proved herself in combat, was among the first Milkies to volunteer for the next assimilation mission, and took to the front lines. This went on and on again, with Misa having some role in nearly every one of the 36 assimilation attempts, and her status as a war hero made her a respectable name among the growing Milky population. Many would simply rest on their laurels, proud that they did their part in liberating the western hemisphere, and leave the fighting for the next generation. Misa though? She desired to do all she could. For Milkies, for the world, and for all the people like her who have yet to be freed from the vile clutches of final-stage capitalism.

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Gomme’s mind went back to her encounter with the Milkies two months ago. After reaching the age of retirement— 80-years-old— she was disposed of by the G.O.D.S. of Great Britain. All forms of unemployment and social insurance had been abolished, and the economic abuse of the G.O.D.S. had left her military pension virtually worthless. It was only a few months before she was out on the streets.

While those younger than her were offered salvation in the form of contractual slavery, she was granted no such privilege. For the masters of the island wanted nothing to do with her expired ilk. She had accepted this fate, that she would die in squalor and pain. Then, on one rainy October day, in the tiny town of Truro, the Milkies attacked.

A force three-hundred strong came flying in on their genetically engineered battle geese and wasted little time pursuing every human they could. They pinned down every adult and raped them then and there. They grabbed children and forced them to drink from their teats. With their ability to multiply their numbers, they were able to take hold of the entire municipality before nightfall.

Gomme cried tears of joy when a Milky approached her in the back alley she called home. Corporate propaganda had tried to present Milkies as demonic freaks from another world. Critters obsessed with sex and desiring nothing more than conquest and genocide. But Gomme’s time in the military had enlightened her to the tactics of the G.O.D.S. and she could identify bullshit a mile away. She knew that the nation of Great Britain was not the one she originally fought for. That she had discarded its people and only cared about servicing the top percentage of the top percent. So, Gomme invited the Milkies as the new leaders of not only her nation, but the entire world. 

Gomme stripped herself of her sullied rags, exposing her frail and hairy body to the encroaching Milky, who pounced on Gomme and began the assimilation process. Due to Gomme’s eagerness, it only took a matter of three minutes until she was completely Milkified. Gomme rejoiced as her form was reshaped into the ‘standard package’ of a Milky, and she quickly joined in with the Herd. Come nightfall, the entire town of Truro had become a Milky, and plans were made to spread the infestation across the nation.

While Gomme offered herself as a soldier, bragging about the decades she spent fighting for the corporate military. Despite her enthusiasm, it was MCU policy that all converts attend a training program before they participate in warfare. Gomme complied, and passed the 14 day program with flying colors… but the conquest of Great Britain only took 12.

Frustrated, Gomme continued to beg her superior officers for an opportunity to take down the G.O.D.S. Through her constant asking and volunteering, she eventually captured the attention of a senior military member who admired her spunk. A Milky by the name of Misa.

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As the murky sludge seeped past her flight suit and into what she was wearing underneath, Paneer thought back to how she got here. Her mind went back to the Bahamian Revolution of 2053. 

The rising sea level and collapsing climate had transformed the Bahamas into a truly dangerous place to live. Coastlines were pushed back by kilometers. Hurricanes constantly destroyed villages. After an unseasonal disaster in early March, the G.O.D.S. controlling this land determined that enough was enough. After exploiting and destroying this land for centuries, G.O.D.S. began relocating all of their assets from this island. Everything that could be removed would be stripped and torn away from the inhabitants. Everything that couldn’t was to be destroyed.

With the G.O.D.S. planning on destroying their homes, infrastructure, and crops, the Bahamians had no other choice but to fight. For it was either that or certain death. However, for all this determination, it was a war they had no chance of winning. Every day they fought, two percent of the population died, and after a week, hope had given way to frantic desperation. All strategy had been abandoned, and people, young and old, threw their lives away. For they knew that unless they won, there was no future for them. For they knew it was better to die fighting than to lie down and accept death.

Paneer was one such person. A child, age 16, ready to sacrifice herself in order to save her friends and family. She brandished her dead father’s handgun as she ventured into war… only to stop as she saw the fabled Goddesses of Victory drop from the sky. Despite their limber appearance, they were able to throw around soldiers twice their size. They could brush off simple gunfire like it was nothing. They could even destroy forty-million-dollar death machines just by lactating on them.

Paneer was in awe at this sight, at the sheer power and domination of the Milkies. So much that she could not look away, let alone move her legs after her body crumbled to the ground below. She sat there until the battle was done. Until the men and machines who had killed her father were no more. At that point, the righteous fury within her heart had been doused, and one of the Milky Fighters had approached her.

The Milky asked Paneer if there was anything she needed, gesturing to a crate of food rations, but Paneer could not answer her question. Instead, she merely sobbed and embraced the Milky. In return, she began caressing her head and humming softly. 

As Paneer calmed down, she spoke bitter and biting words of herself. Of how she was a coward for failing to fight in this war. Of how she couldn’t avenge her father. Before her words grew too bitter, the Milky stopped her and asked her if she wanted to become one of her race. To become a Milky. Paneer struggled to answer.

She had been born a man, and she lived her life accordingly. She had been named after her father and believed she had to live as he did, follow his path, and be a man among men. But Paneer truly did not want that. 

As Paneer looked upon the Milky, as she contemplated her offer, her mind was sent into a slurry. Yet, she saw enough clarity in this mess to give the Milky an answer.

“Yes. I want to be like you.”

The Milky then presented her breast to Paneer, and guided her head toward it, inviting her to suckle upon her milk and initiate the transformation. It was slower, as it is for all who transform through non-genital means, but within a matter of minutes, Paneer’s wish had been granted. Her skin was darker than the Milky before her and her hair was still black and coiled, but she was, unmistakably, from her twintails to her teensy toes, a Milky!

Paneer would never forget this moment, and immediately began doing whatever she could to help the Milkies, starting with enlisting into their military and taking on whatever mission she could. Recon, front line infantry, and even a special assimilation task force in Venezuela. There she worked alongside one of the most prestigious Milkies in the military. Misa Mora.

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Chapter 3: The Milkies in… Tactical Espionage Milkification

Following a ten-minute-long trek through what remained of Nieuwe Maas, Misa, Gomme, and Paneer finally reached their destination. They waded through the quagmire, scaled the slimy walls of the river, and entered into the stone tubes that made up the Rotterdam sewer system. 

Misa: “Phase one: Get to the sewers— is complete. And thank Ghost Milky for that.”

Gomme: “Madame Misa, may we take off our flight gear? I feel like I’m still swimming in blood and dookie.”

Paneer: “And after tripping, I still can barely see anything past this visor.”

Misa: “Yeah, I was about to say, I have something on top of my butt, and I don’t know if it’s alive or not… we should strip down to our zero suits.”

‘Zero suits’ were the standard issue skin-tight form-fitting uniform of Milky Fighters. Though they looked more like a skin-tight full-body latex suit, they were the result of cutting edge Milky engineering. Light armor created from a reinforced milk-based ballistic alloy that made them resistant to both stabbing and gunfire. In addition, zero suits offered a self-healing mechanism that not only repaired the armor, but the damaged flesh around it. Thus allowing Milkies to heal from what would normally be lethal injuries within a matter of minutes. However, this would do nothing if a Milky were to be decapitated or blown to smithereens.

They also came in a wide variety of bright and striking colors, and for two reasons. One, the bright colors directed gunfire away from their skulls which, while naturally bullet resistant, still represent a weak spot for the species. And two, testing revealed that the colored zero suits made the Milkies feel pretty, and led them to perform significantly better in combat. At least compared to tests where they wore camouflage or gray colored zero suits.

Misa was the first to strip down, taking off the helmet to re-reveal her silver twintails and her beautiful brown face. She looked at the sullied suit with a terse glance and quickly unzipped it, revealing a mid-tone azure zero suit that hugged every crevice of her body and left little to the imagination. …For the most part.

The only exceptions were her nipples, vulva, and anus, all of which had a layer of a tearable masking. A substance that suppressed their shape slightly, yet could also be torn through easily. Thereby allowing them to have sex with their targets and provide breast milk without undressing and exposing themselves to greater danger.

As Misa finished, Gomme and Paneer both followed after. Like the overwhelming majority of Milkies, the two had the same ‘base’ body type as Misa, and were only distinguished by their facial features and color palettes. 

Misa had brown skin, dark eyes, silver twintails, and wore a mid-tone azure zero suit. Gomme was White, had blue eyes, blonde twintails, and wore a banana yellow zero suit. Paneer was Black, had deep brown eyes, coiled black twintails, and wore a bright scarlet zero suit.

In addition to the zero suits, all three of them carried a single firearm to call their own, every one of them painted a stark white and attached directly to their backs. Misa carried a pump-action shotgun, ideal for close quarters combat and powerful enough to put down most threats. Gomme carried with her a pistol, one loaded with .50 caliber rounds, allowing it to pack a wallop despite its tiny package. Lastly, Paneer carried with her a standard assault rifle, a large firearm that provided the user with both range and power, at the cost of being pretty heavy. …At least by human standards.

After checking their firearms and planting them back on their backs, the three looked over each other before Gomme spoke up.

Gomme: “…Hey, I know this is a bit late to ask, but are you sure this is the best color scheme for a stealth mission? I love yellow, but it’s like the opposite of stealth. Well, maybe after Ruby-chan here.”

Paneer: “W-What’s wrong with wearing red? I’m a Milky, and Milkies do better when wearing their favorite color. That’s just a scientific fact.”

Misa: “Heh. 8 missions together and still this guarded? Oh, goodness… Never change Pan-Pan.”

As Paneer heard that name, her entire body tensed and she slowly turned around to her commanding officer.

Paneer: “Misa… I told you not to call me that. What happened in Venezuela stays in Venezuela. Comprende?”

Misa: “Si, muchacha! But seriously, we should get going. We’ve got a good three kilometers of sewer to get through after all.”

Following Misa’s request, the trio began walking through the sewers, with Misa taking the lead, walking through the light-less sewers. She shut her eyes as she reminded herself of her destination, creating a mental waypoint to Pedofielkasteel as she traveled, and consulting its location upon every juncture. This, her Milky Sense, was one of the myriad powers available to a Milky such as her, and while her allies could do the same, they instead followed the leader and made small talk.

Gomme: “Um, I can’t tell super well because everything’s so dark, but doesn’t it seem like this sewer is… empty and not especially stinky? The river smelled way worse than anything here…”

Paneer: “Water only flows in a sewer if there are people using it, and I doubt there are that many humans left in Rotterdam.”

Misa: “There aren’t. The G.O.D.S. know that we turn humans into Milkies, and because of that, they executed hundreds of thousands. That’s why there were so many corpses in the river. They repurposed it as a mass burial”

Gomme: “…You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me! I know that the G.O.D.S. can be cruel, but that’s just cartoonishly evil!”

Paneer: “Nothing is too cartoonish nor evil for the G.O.D.S. They do not care for humanity as much as they care for themselves. And if it benefits them, they would all press a button that kills 99% of the human population. Hell, make it 99% of the human and Milky population, guarantee that their G.O.D.S. buddies would be spared, and they would press that button in a goldarn heartbeat.”

Misa: “That’s true… but look at it this way, we’re over a third done! Just another year or so, and everything will be smiles and sunshine!”

Gomme: “It’s as they said back in training. Don’t get sad— get mad and take action!”

Paneer: “Yeah… And with everybody a happy and sweet Milky, there won’t be anything to get super sad about ever again.”

Gomme: “Never ever—”

Misa: “—Forever!”

As the Milky Fighters shared in laughter, Misa abruptly pounded her heel against the stone below, urging her allies to stop. Within the echoey halls of the sewer, she heard footsteps. Booming footsteps that sounded like they came from someone made of metal and weighed at least 500 kilograms.

Without seeing them, Misa could immediately identify them. The mass produced capitalist cyborg slave soldiers officially known as Rockheigeon Zänker-500X Units, but the Milkies had taken to calling them Bricks.

Their numbers were near exclusively made up of humans who signed away their human rights to the G.O.D.S. for food and shelter. In response, they mutilated their bodies, replacing components as they saw fit. Their brains were largely governed by programming, robbing them of any humanity, and making any attempt at compromise or reasoning utterly pointless. They were, effectively, robots powered by humans. Yet, if that human could be freed, that robot could be destroyed and that human could be transformed into a Milky.

Misa: “We’ve got Bricks approaching from what I can hear… three of them.”

Gomme: “Oooh! Lucky number? So, are we going to assimilate them?”

Paneer: “The more allies we get, the better, so of course we’re going to assimilate them.”

Gomme: “Hooray~! I’ve wanted to do this for two whole months now!”

Misa: “Just remember what you’re here for, Gomme. It’s not about having a good time, it’s about incapacitating a threat and making them into an ally!”

Gomme: “Yes Madame Misa! Understood!”

Misa: “Good. Now, get on the ceiling. Follow my lead and no matter what you do, stay quiet!

Gomme replied with a smile that Misa and Paneer could feel even if they couldn’t see it, before lowering her voice down to a whisper of a whisper.

Gomme: “Got it, you can count on me.”

One of the many supplemental abilities of the zero suits was scaling walls. Or, as Misa had suggested, crawl on top of ceilings. Like a certain astounding arachnid person. Once all three were securely inverted, Misa escorted them to a dead end in the sewer system, waiting for the Bricks to either pass by or intercept them. Based on the sound of the continuous droning footsteps, the three concluded it was the former. 

Misa: “They didn’t see us, so we’re going on the offensive. We’ll follow their paths, staying out of sight. Then, once we’re overhead, on my command, we will down, and the coitus shall begin. I’ll go first, Paneer is second, and Gomme is third.”

Gomme: “Sounds good to me. Let’s get it on.”

With that order, the trio began creeping toward the Bricks, following their footsteps before they got near enough to see they had lights embedded in their armor, shining the path forward. The soldiers moved with a ten meter gap between each of them, giving the Milky Fighters the necessary room to creep on and isolate each soldier. Once the positions were secure and the Milkies loomed overhead, Misa gave the signal.

Misa: “Embrace assimilation and join the Herd!”

Misa, Paneer, and Gomme then dropped down onto their targets, standing behind them and catching them by surprise. All knew what had to be done, but the most eager among the three was easily Gomme. 

After the day she became a Milky, she never had the opportunity to assimilate others, so she looked upon this Brick like a kid looking at a present under the Christmas Tree. She wanted little more than to open it right away, but took a moment to admire the packaging of it all.

Bricks stood at a uniform height of 222 centimeters, considerably taller than the 180 centimeters height of most Milkies. Their heads were coated in hefty helmets that locked their eyes behind one-way visors, hiding their identity and eyes to any who looked at them. Every inch of their body was covered with heavy metallic armor, all colored a shadow of black or gray, giving them a dark, foreboding, and antagonistic appearance. In their hands, they carried a large assault rifle with jagged blades at the bottom. A weapon truly functional at all distances, but a profoundly heavy one was well, weighing at least 60 kilograms 

This descriptor described Bricks that the Milkies had encountered across the world. From Argentina to the Greenland Oil Fields, and now in the Netherlands. Though the exact shading might differ, the shape and weight never did. They were always interchangeable— like a bunch of bricks.

As Gomme reminded herself of this bit of trivia, she turned her head to the weapon in the Brick’s hand, but instead, she brought her attention to the ‘weakest link’ of a Brick’s armor. The crotch. The thinnest plate in the armor, as anything else would suffocate the penises and interfere with the ‘positive reinforcement’ function of the armor. Which is code for ‘the armor jerks them off when the Bricks do something correctly. Like kill a target.’

With as much might as she could muster, Gomme revved up a high-powered Milky Kick and slammed her foot against the crotch of the Brick, causing the metal to shatter from the force. The residual force spread throughout the Brick, disorientating him as his black under armor was exposed… along with his all too visible semi-erect penis.

Brick: “The fuck are you doing, bitch?”

Gomme paid no mind to the uncouth language the Brick muttered past his robotic filter. Instead, she brought her hands to the thin armor covering his crotch, unfurling it to reveal his penis and balls. While they looked fairly normal at a glance, with no metal parts or tubes going through them, a closer look of this particularly fair-skinned penis revealed that there were far more ‘veins’ than normal. Wires that went under his skin to directly administer the ‘positive reinforcement.’ Same for the balls beneath. He looked human, but his cyborg nature was clear to Gomme and… she thought that was pretty hot.

With her objective exposed, Gomme grabbed the penis and balls and gave them a tender squeeze. This was enough to cause the Brick to lose his already compromised footing and tumble to the sewer floor, dropping his weapon in the process. With her target incapacitated, Gomme leapt onto his chest and brought her hands to the helmet. Upon opening it, she was met with the face of a man with ashened white skin, a bald head, robotic eyes, and various cybernetic implants into his skull. His skin was coarse and tough, unpleasant to the touch, and the very sight was enough to make her flinch. 

Brick: “Do you think I haven’t been trained for this, you vexatious cunt?! I’ll fuckin—”

Before the Brick could finish his latest swear, Gomme planted her lips upon the Brick’s dry and uninviting lips. He resisted at first, but as Gomme brushed past his lips and invaded his mouth, the Brick’s eyes drooped and his passionate resistance disappeared. 

Once sufficiently pacified, Gomme ended the kiss and looked down at the Brick’s face, smiling.

Gomme: “Oh, you poor baby. I’m sorry you had to go through all of this. But don’t worry. Milky Fighter Gomme is here to make all that hurt and hatred go away.”

Gomme turned herself around, positioning her head toward the Brick’s crotch, while placing hers tantalizingly close to his face. As she looked onto his penis, the artificially elongated 25 centimeter schlong, she licked her lips before stretching her mouth around its head. Once her oral grip was secure, she lowered her head, shoving the totality of the Brick’s penis down her throat.

With her target secured, Gomme called upon her biological masterful knowledge of fellatio to provide the Brick with a pleasure greater than he had ever known. Sending her tongue around the tenderest parts of his dick and pressing it against the walls of her mouth. It was enough to leave the Brick groaning with pleasure, too pleased to even consider resistance, and once he was sufficiently pacified, Gomme began shaking her hips and lowering her crotch. Her ass was practically bouncing on top of the Brick’s forehead and the path to her vulva was hanging frustratingly close to the Brick. With his arms bound to the ground by erotic lethargy, he instead took an alternative route to claim this succulent fruit before him, and extended his tongue upwards.

Upon piercing the folds of the zero suit, he was greeted with a warm and wet surface, lubricated with Gomme’s natural juices. Juices with a flavor so intense that they momentarily sent the Brick’s tongue back into his mouth.

Brick: “Sweet… just like milk.”

Entranced by the rich natural flavor of a Milky, the Brick lurched his head forward to delve deeper into Gomme’s privates. He quickly dug past her vulva into her vaginal canal, furiously rubbing his tongue as he lapped up her juices with the desperation of a thirsty mutt. Gomme moaned in response, her words muffled by the penis in her mouth, and as thanks to the Brick, she began to take her slow and methodical oral thrusts to the next level. With longer, harder, and faster strokes. For a brief moment, this transformed into a race between the two… The Milky, of course, won. 

As a reward for offering three minutes of ecstasy, Gomme was given a whopping 50 milliliters of cum. Cum that exploded out of the Brick’s penis, gushing all over her mouth before spraying onto the back of her throat. It was hot, viscous, and tasted like Marmite, but Gomme’s eyes were still sparkling as she felt it fill her mouth, and practically glowing as she drank every drop.

Gomme: “Ah! It’s a lot yummier than they said it’d be!”

After saying that, the Brick let out a tiny drizzle of cum, one that jumped out of his penis head and landed right inside of Gomme’s nostrils, forcing her to confront its pungent odor. As she did, she unleashed a nozzle-like spray of ‘lady juices’ onto the Brick’s face, but mostly into his mouth.

With their ejaculations complete, Gomme hopped off of the Brick and tore the flashlight off of his armor, using it so she could get a better look at the ‘best part.’ The Milkification! 

Gomme began by shining the light on the Brick’s face, where she saw that the changes had already begun. His once bald head had already become home to a growing mane of lush pinkish strawberry blonde hair. As his tongue lapped up the stray bits of Gomme juices off of his face, the skin around his lips grew softer and more saturated, while his lips grew larger and redder.

Jumping her light past the face and down to the only other exposed part of his body, Gomme let out a sad whimper upon looking at the Brick’s crotch. The innie had already become an outie, leaving behind only a slit and a clit behind. Gomme stared at her fine work, seeing how the bits of the Brick’s penis translated to their new vagina, only for that vagina to gyrate up and down along with the Brick’s armor. Upon shaking, it struck the ground with a thud, as if the meats and machinery that were propping the armor up had poofed into nothingness. …Because that’s exactly what happened. 

Though Gomme could not see it, she could tell, from the lopsided way the armor was arranged, that the transformation was already nearing its final stages. The Brick no longer looked like a hardened man crammed into a dense suit that he filled nicely. Rather, they looked like a young woman swimming in something far too large and girthy for her slender frame.

With a carefully placed ‘Milky Chop’ Gomme shattered the core of the metal armor, freeing, among other things, the newly transformed Brick’s plentiful breasts. The residual force of the strike sent them bouncing erratically, so much that they began spraying milk into Gomme’s face.

Gomme: “Congratulations! You’re now a Milky, one-hundred percent!”

The newly transformed Milky then began pulling their arms out of their metal gauntlets, moving them to inches before their face. They basked at their slender digits in awe before bringing hands to their soft face, and up through their silky hair, magically styled into twintails. Their hands then went to their breasts, leading them to sit upright as they looked upon them with their widened green eyes, gawking at their size and weight. 

Newly Transformed Milky: “W-What? Is this… real?”

The new Milky spoke a few words out of shock before silencing themself upon hearing their voice. For it confirmed so many things within just one second . With the transformed subject in a state of awe, Gomme accelerated the process by popping off their oversized leg sheaths and boots, leaving the Milky utterly naked. 

Gomme: “So, how do ya feel?”

The transformed Milky wore a blank expression as they pontificated a response, before answering Gomme… with a hug.

Newly Transformed Milky: “Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you! The voices are gone, I can think on my own! After so, so very berry long, I’m freeeeeee!!!”

Gomme laughed as the new Milky expressed such joy, before planting a smooch onto her lips.

Gomme: “Thanks sweetie, but I’m just doing my job and spreading the love. Oh! And you’re going to need a new sufficiently Milky name. How about… Domiati!”

Newly Transformed Milky: “Hm… I don’t really know what that is, but it’s sure as heck being given a serial number for a name. Hiya, my name’s Domiati, and it’s peachy keen to finally be part of the Herd!”

As the two laughed in post-coital and post-assimilation bliss, they heard a set of four footsteps come from further down the sewer. There was Misa and Paneer, still in their zero suits and looking no worse for wear. Behind them were two new Milkies, still naked. One with tan skin and bushy hazelnut hair, and the other was an Asian Milky with a light complexion and jet black hair. 

Misa: “Aw, well didn’t you turn out to be a cutie, Domiati.”

Domiati: “A-Am I? I don’t really have a mirror here unle—”

Bushy Hazelnut Milky: “Trust me, girl, you’re cute as heck. Though I guess we are all.”

Paneer: “Eh… Domiati is the cutest one here. Sorry girls, but naturally strawberry blonde hair gets you a lot of points.”

Asian Milky: “Oh come on! Even the one who Milkified me doesn’t think I’m the cutest. Darn you Tenno and your eugenics policy!”

Domiati: “S-Sorry, I guess… So, what are your ‘Milky names?’”

Bushy Hazelnut Milky: “Cambozola’s the name, and there ain’t no part of me that’s the same! Hehehe. I’ve waited months to say something that silly. Oh, the joy of cognitive freedom.”

Asian Milky: “And I guess my new name’s Leyden… which is also the least cute name! …Can I change my name or—”

Paneer: “You can, but they’re still working out an approval system, so it usually takes two months.”

Leyden: “Fooey!”

Gomme: “Hey, so, I probably should have asked this before I named Domiati here… but are Milky names supposed to make any sense?”

Paneer: “You’re named after a Norwegian cheese porridge, despite being from Great Britain. I’m named after some sour Indian cheese curds, when I’m Bahamian. And Misa is named after a brand of Czech chocolate covered cream cheese… when she’s from Saint Louis.”

Misa: “I think you mean V-City—”

Gomme & Paneer: “SHUT UP!!!”

Paneer: “The answer is no. Just make sure it is a dairy product of some variety.”

Gomme: “…But why though?”

Misa & Paneer: “It ain’t Milky if it ain’t dairy!”

Everyone shared in a moment of silence following this outburst, before Domiati spoke up yet again.

Domiati: “So… you three are here to assassinate Master KoKdiK, right?”

Gomme: “He’s not your master anymore, and we assimilate, not assassinate.”

Cambozola: “Seriously, get with the program, new girl!”

Gomme: “…But yes, we’re gonna get him. So if you three would be so kind as to—”

Follow me and I’ll take you to the secret entrance. Normally it’s a royal PITA to get in there, but with six Milkies, there is nothing that can get in our way!”

Cambozola: “Except for a tank.”

Paneer: “Or a bunch of landmines.”

Gomme: “Or a nuclear bomb!”

Leyden: “…You knew what I meant!”

Leyden then began to run through the sewers, and the other five Milkies followed suit, their feet dancing across the damp floor, sending watery echoes their way. With all threats eliminated, it took them only a few minutes before they reached an innocuous wall and Leyden stopped in her tracks.

Cambozola: “That’s the wall! We need to find a pressure sensor hiding behind a particular brick. We will need to look very closely at the mortar and determine which one is—”

Before Cambozola could finish that statement, Leyden slammed her fist against the brick wall of the sewer, shattering it in a single blow.

Leyden: “Now that’s what I call MILKY POWER!”

Cambozola: “Oh yeah, why didn’t I think of that… so yeah, we just go inside this hole and we’ll arrive near the secret elevator.”

Paneer: “…How is this so secret if you three ex-grunts know about it?”

Domiati & Cambozola: “Um… We don’t remember.”

Leyden: “…We used to be part of the resistance until they stole our bodies and made them their corporate slaves.”

Domiati: “Why do you remember that when we don’t?”

Leyden: “It’s all thanks to the power of genetic engineering.”

Cambozola: “…Weren’t you just complaining about Japan’s eugenics policy ten minutes ago?”

Leyden: “SHUT UP!!!”

The newly assimilated Milkies then began escorting the veteran trio through this newly made hole, leading them to a dusty concrete room littered with various tools and metal components. It looked like an innocuous storage closet at first, but as they shined their flashlights, the six found what they were looking for. A tiny elevator that looked as if it was designed for a single person. It looked far more sleek and modern than the rest of the room around it, and after Misa pressed the single button on the panel to its right, she was greeted with a faint LED light.

Gomme: “So, how far will this elevator take us?”

Leyden: “Hm… We were never 100% on the information we got, but this was supposedly an escape elevator for the G.O.D.S. A way to escape into an isolated room, flick a secret switch, and head out to the sewers. Not the most glamorous way to go, but this was supposedly a backup backup plan.”

Misa: “Any word on what we can expect from the first floor? Or from KoKdiK?”

Domiati: “Nope! He is awfully secretive like that, and us Bricks aren’t even allowed on the top floor.”

Paneer: “Heh. You say that like it’s a bad thing, but the fewer Bricks we need to deal with, the better.”

Misa: “Speaking of which, we don’t normally like doing this, but we would love it if you three could—”

Cambozola: “Create a diversion and assimilate some of our former brothers in arms? Don’t worry, if my new sisters feel like I do, they’re gearing up for another round.”

Domiati: “Oh? So it’s not just me?”

Gomme: “It’s a natural part of the assimilation process. You’re frisky for a day or two, but then things get more manageable as your hormonal levels balance out.”

Leyden: “So, we do the grunt work while you three get all the glory?”

Paneer: “What glory? You sure you got all of that corporate bull-dookie out of your head? Because we don’t do this to go down in history. We do this to prevent suffering and save lives.”

Misa: “Exactly! So the sooner we can stop KoKdiK, the better!”

After Misa said that, a deafening silence came over the six as they all looked on at the elevator.

Misa: “…Please don’t tell me that thing is broken. Climbing an elevator shaft isn’t that hard, but—”

As Misa rushed to envision a bad scenario, the door to the elevator car creeped open, revealing a positively tiny room that, as they observed earlier, could only fit one person… and they were a party of six.

By harnessing the natural flexibility of the Milkies, the six all stacked themselves inside the elevator with the power of piggyback rides! With the veterans being the piggies and the naked new converts sitting on their shoulders. They awkwardly assembled themselves into this menagerie, just barely fitting into the elevator, with their boobs squished against the glass wall and butts mushed together in the center. It was a tight, and erotic, fit, but the elevator still moved up when Misa pressed the corresponding lobby button, sending the sextet up to the ground floor.

With further awkwardness, the naked trio slid out of the rightly packed elevator and into a room with no entrance or exit, just four brick walls. This would have represented a mighty puzzle for the group to solve… but then Domiati kicked the wall, causing a giant hole to appear, revealing what looked to be another supply closet of sorts.

Leyden: “Hey! I was gonna do that!”

Domiati: “S-Sorry, you just made it seem like so much fun—”

Cambozola: “Girls, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. Like contaminating the water supply for the Bricks.”

Leyden: “Yeah, about that, are you sure that’s all we need to do? Just let loose some of our milk in water and let people drink it?”

Misa: “…I have been involved with seven operations where we used that strategy to incapacitated tens of thousands of soldiers. It might take a few hours, but it works.”

Leyden: “Geez, you guys can do all this and convert people just by screwing them? No wonder you’ve taken over half the world in three frickin’ years.”

Gomme: “I know, it’s super cool! And command says that within two years, the entire planet will be Milkies!”

Paneer: “Eh, I still have my money on it happening no later than July 1, 2057. China and India are big, but with populations so dense, all it takes is one Milky and bam! One month later, 99% assimilation rate. …We should talk to Madame Cheese about that.”

Instead of saying anything, Misa merely smiled and gestured to her mouth as if zipping it shut.

With their missions stated, Domiati, Cambozola, and Leyden all scattered out of the supply closet while Misa, Gomme, and Paneer remained in the elevator. There, they set their destination to the 69th floor. Or, as the elevator named it, the ‘BOSS’ floor.’ They passed their time reading their weapons as best they could, ready to take on whatever threat lurked upon this floor. …Or so they thought.

---

Chapter 4: The Milkies in… Free The Children!

Once the elevator finally came to a stop, Misa, Gomme, and Paneer found themselves in a decadently decorated hallway. An interior design disaster that was clearly the product of someone with oodles of wealth who believed that a collage of disparate objects was the best way to flaunt it. Awards, antiques, and valuables aplenty lined both walls, all locked behind glass. This was the backdrop facing the Milky Fighters as they ventured down this hallway, ready to kill or assimilate any surprise opposition that came near. Instead, they saw no sign of life, and not even a single security camera. 

They sighed in relief at this lack of resistance and quickly settled on a locked door as their next target. With a good kick, the door handle broke, the door opened, and as the three began to survey the room, their eyes immediately landed on the same thing. Something that should not have existed.

What they saw could most generously be described as the mutilated remains of a child floating in a large glass cylinder that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The child’s arms and legs had been amputated completely, rendering them just a torso with a head. A head that had been shaved of all hair, with even their eyelashes stripped away, and pressed inwards, making the neck nearly invisible. This malformed body made it hard to immediately identify this child as even human, for their body was closer in shape to a bean than any humanoid.

A pair of thick black tubes propped up the body, propping it up 1.5 meters above the floor. The first connected to its mouth, ending in a mask so large it obscured the child’s nose. The second covered the bottom of their being, spanning from their anus to their genitals.

As the Milkies gasped at this sight, the child’s reddened eyelids opened, and as they saw the Milkies, they began to jitter about.

Before they could even attempt to free the child however, the three panned their vision across the rest of this plain and sterile room… where they saw over a hundred more like this child. 32 rows, each containing 4 children, all lined up in a narrow room with tiled floors and a ceiling filled with a daunting web of wires and tubes. 

Paneer: “What the frick is KoKdiK doing? This… This—”

Before Paneer could finish that thought, Gomme turned around and vomited, unleashing a white substance onto the floor.

Gomme: “Oh Goodness. They’re freaking kids! What twisted dastard does KoKdiK think he is? We need to find him and—”

Misa: “This is our new objective. We need to save these children first. The G.O.D.S. can wait.”

Gomme: “B-But, if we take down the—”

Paneer: “Misa’s right, Gomme. We cannot allow any prisoners of war to die. Saving them always takes priority over defeating any G.O.D.S. Because you never know what contingency plans those dastards have cooking up.”

Misa: “As we learned the hard way…” 

Gomme: “Um… I’m a little confused as to—”

Misa & Paneer: “What happened in Venezuela stays in Venezuela!”

Gomme: “Oooooh! …So, what do we do now? Should we break out these… 128 kids and give them a taste of our milk, or—”

Misa: “We don’t know if these children even can be freed. They might die if they leave these tubes. We need to go to the source… and I think I just found it.”

Misa shut her eyes and allowed her Milky Senses to guide her once again. They allowed her to map the network of feeding pipes overhead and, after taking a few seconds, she had a new destination in mind. The Milky Fighters then walked out the room, leaving the 128 children behind as they followed the pipes above the ceiling.

Misa: “Cover me. I think I know how to free these kids. We still don’t know if there are any combatants here, but remember, we are to only kill if absolutely necessary. Any operation where we don’t need to use our guns is a good operation.”

Paneer: “Yeah, yeah. I’m not sensing anyone anyway, so…”

Gomme: “Do you think the guards here headed downstairs when our new friends started causing a ruckus?”

Paneer: “Sounds reasonable enough. I doubt they could avoid getting caught for long. Especially in the ground floor of Pedofielkasteel.”

Gomme: “We really should carry something to help them out, like an extra communicator or firearm or—”

Misa: “Your ideas are valuable Gomme, but our infrastructure is limited, and we don’t carry 10 kilograms of gear for a reason. I don’t mean to say that we have been successful so far and we don’t need further innovations but—”

Paneer: “That’s exactly what she’s saying.”

Misa shot Paneer a deeply annoyed frown after she said that, before groaning and shutting her eyes once again. Rather than fight a needless battle between her buddies, she kept quiet and continued walking forward before reaching her latest destination.

Misa: “…I think I found the room. Let’s just hope there aren’t any trigger happy technicians.”

Gomme: “It’s okay Misa, we’re basically bulletproof!”

Misa: “…I meant trigger happy in the sense they might press a button and— You know what, screw it. On the count of three, we enter.”

Five seconds later, Misa knocked down the door, her shotgun in hand and eyes scanning the room for any humans. Instead, she found an empty room. One with a piece of expensive-looking laboratory equipment, a series of thick tubes and pipes that lined the ceiling, and a semi-transparent 100 liter jug labeled ‘nutrient paste.’ Inside of it was a brown slurry of some sorts. Aside from this one piece of odd equipment, it looked like a fairly unremarkable lab room. Other smaller pieces of equipment were lined up against the walls. A few desktops. Along with several piles of paper strewn about haphazardly.

As she continued to look at this sight, her vision narrowed at the interface at the large machine.

Misa: “Gomme, figure out what this machine does and unlock it.”

Gomme: “Rodger dodger! Ex-Military Hacker girl is go!”

Misa: “Paneer, search around for some funnels and tubes.”

Paneer: “Funnels and… what are you planning?”

Misa: “If we want to free those kids, we’re going to need a lot of milk, and I’d hate to waste any of it.”

Paneer: “Uh, Misa, I don’t think we’ll be able to make enough milk for all 128 of those kids. We can only produce up to 250 milliliters an hour each. And if we want kids to grow clothes when they transform— which we definitely do, because we’re not war criminals— then they need to drink at least 120 milliliters of milk to grow clothes. Meaning i—”

Misa: “Find me a funnel and I’ll show you a special trick Cindy Cookie taught me two months ago.”

Paneer: “…Okay, fine.”

With Paneer digging through cabinets and Gomme typing away at the machine, Misa calmed herself, taking deep breaths while everyone else seemingly did all the hard work. A few minutes later, Gomme broke her concentration with a laugh.

Gomme: “Hehehe! I’m in! And this… does appear to be a device for pumping and distributing liquids over a large area. So this must be where the kids get their nutrients… and I think I can just do a ‘special distribution’ if we want to send them anything!”

As Gomme spoke, she gestured to the tiny screen on the machine, hoping it would illustrate her point… when it did not. It was just a bunch of command line text.

A second later, Paneer dropped the funnel and tube onto a desk, while propping an empty 100 liter jug onto the floor.

Paneer: “—And here’s your funnel and tube, Misa. So, what was that special trick you were talking about?”

Misa smirked as she began unfurling her zero suit, stopping as she reached her navel. With half of the suit flowing beneath her and her breasts exposed, Misa smirked.

Misa: “Paneer, get the funnel ready for me. And Gomme… just watch and see what a Milky can do once she reaches peak power.”

Misa then took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and puffed her chest outward. It was an exaggerated and odd motion that confused the two onlookers… And they were even more confused when, in the blink of an eye, her breasts spontaneously expanded to an utterly absurd size.

In fact, to call them breasts was a disservice. They were no longer DD cups. They were no longer part of the alphabet. They were no mere honkers. Nor badonkers. They were the legendary, the mythical, the cherished Dobonhonkeros!

Bigger than an average head! Bigger than three average heads! So big that a ten-year-old child could comfortably fit themselves inside of these things, limbs and all, if given the opportunity.

Gomme and Paneer were both awestruck at this display of Milky Power, positively entranced by their leader’s chest size as it practically defied gravity with its profound jiggliness. 

Misa: “Watch and learn. I know this jug might seem bigger than my girls, but… I’ll fill her to the brim!”

Following that declaration, Misa took her hands to both breasts and began firing milk into the funnel, where it slurped down the tube and into the jug. Her milk poured out like a faucet, sending an echo throughout the cramped laboratory while filling up the hug at the rate of 20 liters per minute… meaning it still took five minutes to fill up the jug. 

Gomme: “So, um, did you think it would come out faster or—”

Misa: “—Yes, I did! And after doing this for a minute, it’s starting to hurt… maybe this is why Cookie said to do one tit at a time and switch every minute…”

Paneer: “So… how are you doing all of this? You just made milk from nothing.”

As Paneer stared at Misa’s massive tits, she noticed that they were shrinking, ever so slightly, with every passing minute.

Misa: “You just turned a 180 kilogram cyborg into a 60 kilogram Milky and you’re asking about the conservation of mass? It’s magic, Paneer! It’s beyond us simple Milky Fighters.”

Paneer: “…That was not my question. I have come to accept that science is dead and magic is real. I’m asking how are you doing this?”

Misa: “This… is the power of Gertrude. Her nutritious and delicious milk has been resting within me, empowering me, and allowing me to finally reach the next level. Only those who have achieved complete synchronicity with themselves as a Milky can achieve this power. You need to cast aside feelings of hatred and doubt, embrace kindness and affection, and only then can you transcend a mere Milky and become a Mega Milky! Yet it requires much power for one to enter this state, and it takes years for a typical Milky to amass the needed reserves. However, Gertrude allowed me to reach this state, albeit for a brief time.”

Gomme: “Oooh! So, do you think I can become a Mega Milky someday?”

Misa: “Heh. I might be pretty good at what I do, but you Gomme? …At this rate, you’ll be a Mega Milky before the war’s over.”

Gomme: “Hooray~!”

Paneer: “…I take it that means I won’t be becoming a Mega Milky anytime soon?”

Misa: “Bahahahahaha! More like never, Paneer! Your heart is too closed off, and I know without someone like me, you would have done at least seven war crimes.”

Paneer searched for a witty retort, but found none available to her. Instead, she let out a disgruntled sigh as her comrades laughed and the jug got bigger and bigger. All until it was 90 liters full and Misa’s ample chest had… grown smaller than it ever had before.

Gomme: “Uh, Misa, is it supposed to get that small? Because I’ve never seen a Milky smaller than a C-cup and—”

Misa: “I don’t think so either… but at this point I cannot stop.”

Paneer: “What do you mean you can’t stop? Just hold it in and—”

Misa: “I’m trying and… and… oh, I”m getting… lightheaded.”

Misa continued to stand firm as she drained every last drop from her breasts, causing the jug to overflow slightly. As she finished, her once massive breasts had shrunk dramatically, leaving behind only the most essential of breast tissue. Upon seeing what became of her chest, Misa looked up at her allies with half-closed eyes and spoke to them in a weak tone.

Misa: “Heh. I guess I’m not fully ready for being a Mega Milky… I’ll have to ask Cookie for some extra tips.”

Gomme: “Are… you okay, Misa?”

Misa: “Not… really. I don’t think I’d be much help if I tried to do much of… anything, really. Hehehehe…”

Paneer: “Goldarn it boss! We’re not going without you so… Here, suck my tit!”

Paneer then forced herself on Misa, jamming her face into her left breast, where she immediately moved her tongue past the zero suit folds to unveil the firm dark nipple beneath. She suckled slowly but strongly, nursing from Paneer while clearly trying to not milk her dry. One breast led to another, and once Paneer felt she had given enough, she handed Misa over to Gomme, who did much the same.

Upon nursing Misa with whatever breast milk the two had to spare, Misa stood up on her own and looked down to her breasts. They had ballooned back into B-cups from her allies’ nursing, and she promptly put back on her zero suit. After a moment, the breast pockets of the suit adjusted themselves to conform with her now smaller chest. 

Misa: “Oh, you poor girls, so shriveled up and small. But I suppose this is enough to be a Milky. As my aunt Harriet used to say, more than a mouthful is a waste anyway.”

Paneer: “Clearly, she never tried to screw a box.”

Gomme: “…If this is a joke, I don’t really get it.”

Misa & Paneer: “What happened in Venezuela stays in Venezuela.”

Gomme: “You keep saying that, but you still bring up things that happened there all the time. So, I don’t think that phrase is really tr—”

Misa & Paneer: “SHUT UP!!!”

After a second of awkward silence, Misa cleared her throat and directed her attention away from her boobs and back to the jug.

Misa: “Paneer, be a dear and load up my milk on that machine. And Gomme, prepare a ‘special distribution’ as you called it.”

Following her orders, the two quickly set up the ‘food distribution machine.’ Latching the jug into place and making a few inputs on the touch screen interface. Seconds later, the machine whirled to life and the milk began pumping out of the jug through a large pipe that went up to the ceiling. Having already done the work of following these pipes, Misa gestured at her allies to follow her as she walked out of the room. Taking out their guns yet again, they made their way through the isolated halls before returning to the room with the 128 imprisoned children, where the transformation had already begun.

The milk had already poured through their tubes and into their mouths, transforming their heads. Their skulls had grown larger, shriveled faces grew into something soft and nicely tucked within the intersection of cute and sexy. Hair blossomed out of their head, expanding an inch a second, brows and lashes returned, and once their noggins were looking all nice and Milky-like, the changes spread to their torsos. 

Their torsos grew and straightened themselves, growing more than double their original size, before they began shaking violently. The Milky trio looked on with anticipation and saw a set of arms and legs burst from their severed stubs. One transformation triggered to another, sending a gushing noise that echoed across the room as the transformations spread.

While those transformed into Milkies via sexual intercourse underwent no transformation other than a biological one, those transformed via breast milk developed a set of clothing. Clothing that grew from their skin and was designed to hide all the ‘nudey bits’ of their bodies. Of course, this only worked with those who consumed at least 120 milliliters of breast milk. Any less, and chances are they would not develop any clothes, or they would only develop a set of underwear. 

As such, the Milky trio was relieved when they saw a series of tank tops grow before the children grew any breasts, and a pair of yoga pants prior to the transformation of their privates. 

Now with the head of a Milky and a body in the vague shape of an adult humanoid, the limbs and torso of the children began to balance themselves out. Their waists narrowed, sending excess mass to their chest and rear. Arms became slender yet dense with muscle, with long fingers, dainty in appearance, yet as strong as the mightiest of talons. Legs became silky and plump, easy on the eyes while being strong enough to run a marathon with relative ease. 

As the transformation neared its end, the new Milkies all freed themselves of their tubes, tearing them off their mouths and crotches, before landing on their newly formed sneaker-clad feet.

All 128 spent a moment basking over themselves. Stretching out their arms and fingers. Rubbing their legs. Tugging on their thick ponytails. And peeking past their tank tops at their newly formed breasts. With some, of course, fondling them in the process.

However, that all came to an end when one of the new Milkies thrust her elbow against the glass containing her, causing it to shatter. A ripple of similar destruction then spread across the room as the Milkies freed themselves… and covered the floor with a frightening amount of glass. Fortunately, their sneakers, magical wonders that they are, were thick enough to resist knives, let alone glass.

In the seconds before the newly transformed Milkies could plan their next course of action, Misa stepped forward and spoke loud, her voice reaching the opposite end of the room.

Misa: “Okay kids, simmer down, everything is okie doke and hunky dorey! You have all been freed from the clutches of the G.O.D.S. and brought into the Milky Herd. Some of you might be overwhelmed by your bodies, but give it a bit and you’ll be feeling better than ever before!”

The new Milkies then began to converse among themselves, confused by and possibly not understanding Misa’s words. After giving them a moment, Paneer stepped up and continued Misa’s speech.

Paneer: “We’re in the middle of a war against the G.O.D.S. and our sisters are out fighting the good fight. My friends and I are after the man in charge of this nation, KoKdiK, and we’re gonna assimilate him.”

Gomme: “We’d ask for your help, as a hundred extra Milkies would make this easy peasy… but we have a rule against enlisting children, so…”

Misa: “We don’t have any backup, or a secure place away from combat to send you. So we’ll ask you to stay put until we defeat KoKdiK.”

The new Milkies continued to wallow in confusion over this whole situation… before one ran out of the room, and triggered a domino effect. The former children ran out of the door on the other side of the room, flooding out into the top floor, moving far too fast and in far too great of numbers for the trio to stop them.

Paneer: “Goldarn it!”

Misa: “Let them go. We tried, and there isn’t any good way to round up that many panicked POWs. Let’s just hope that the bulletproof tank tops keep them safe and end this.”

As Misa made that declaration, the three began following the new Milkies, hoping that they would take them to KoKdiK’s office. Instead, they found themselves in the lobby. A room flooded with Milkies as they stood before an elevator with a blinking red light, indicating it was, somehow, broken. The Milky Fighters breathed a sigh of relief as they saw this and, upon turning their head, they found what they were looking for. A large imposing wooden door, with a plaque reading “KOKDIK.”

---

Chapter 5: The Milkies in… Assimilate Bossman KoKdiK

With a Milky Kick from Misa, the door to KoKdiK’s office flew off its hinges, and the squad of three entered, their weapons drawn. Inside, they saw a garishly decorated office, designed to evoke the image of wealth and excess more than it was meant to look even remotely appealing. The sole exception to this was a large and pristine mahogany desk, where a man sat, his eyes on his trinity of monitors even as the Milkies knocked down his door.

Seconds after they began walking toward him, the man rose up from past his screens. 

His face was entirely synthetic, designed around the contemporary ideal of an attractive male. Strong features, short dark hair, and a faintly tanned yet distinctly White complexion. It looked like skin from afar, but as the Milkies neared, they could see the artificial seams. While his physique was obscured by a needlessly elegant suit, adorned with platinum cuffs and buttons, his 2 meters of height and the wideness of his stature made his strength clear.

He cast his monitors aside using his metallic hands, and stared at the three Milkies with his synthetic green eyes. They did the same, and once the distance between them was a mere ten meters, the Milkies stopped, their weapons still aimed directly at the cyborg’s head.

Misa: “Willy P. KoKdiK, I presume?”

Cyborg Executive: “Must you even ask? It is not as if I ever attempted to maintain a low profile.”

Paneer: “You have one chance to give up and accept assimilation… but I know you’re not going to take it.”

KoKdiK: “HA! As if I would ever subject myself to your ilk. You Milkies are terrorists in every sense of the world. Toppling the established order and replacing it with chaos. Raping men, women, and especially children. Spouting an ideology that has always failed throughout the entirety of human history, and presenting it as salvation. Taking men and reshaping them as little more than your slaves! I do not know how you amassed such powerful nanomachine technology but—”

Gomme: “Um, Mister KoKdiK, sorry to interrupt your speech, but you literally live in a tower named ‘Pedophile Castle.’ You’re the one who had over a hundred enslaved and mutilated children. And based on some of the papers I was looking through while my friend was letting her milk out, you were extracting ‘semen from boys aged 10 to 12’ and ‘vaginal fluids from girls aged 9 to 11.’”

KoKdiK: “It appears that you are mistaken on multiple fronts, you dimwitted whore! You see—”

Misa: “Not to mention, you changed your name from Kotick to KoKdiK back in 2033 and… that is not a dog whistle sir. That’s not even a bark. That’s a sonic weapon that can permanently deafen protesters within 15 minutes… Like the one used back in 2044 after announcing a ‘Whites only’ employment policy.”

KoKdiK: “I will have you know that the name KoKdiK has a proud lineage that I simply wished to—”

Paneer: “But even if you weren’t a raging white supremacist— who hated Colored folk so much you fled to a nation that was 90% White— you’d still be a trillionaire. A trillionaire’s opinions don’t matter…. And neither does their life!”

Paneer then fired her assault rifle at KoKdiK’s face… but the bullets failed to so much as smidge his skin.

Paneer: “Crud on a cracker! How is it that the G.O.D.S. are always bulletproof? Why do we even bring guns if it always ends like this?”

Gomme: “Oh! I know! Just in case things go baddy bad!”

KoKdiK then slammed his metal hands against his desk, shattering the surface and sending a web of cracks across the main body

KoKdiK: “LISTEN TO ME YOU STUPID FUCKING CUNTS!!!”

Misa: “Oh hush, you! We—”

As Misa attempted to cutely silence the enraged cyborg, he grabbed his 150 kilogram desk and threw it at the three. The desk thrust them to the other side of this excessively large room, and slammed them against the wall. No worse for wear, the three Milkies quickly shattered the desk, punching it into far smaller and weaker bits of wood, only to find KoKdiK looming over them.

KoKdiK: “It appears that you require some discipline. And for creatures as feeble-minded as you, you’ll need to be taught the hard way. One. By. One.”

KoKdiK flexed his chest and arms, causing his suit to burst off of his chest and revealing a mountain of muscles. All of which were synthetic. Comparing him to Bricks was like comparing a world class bodybuilder to an average joe, and that was even more true when he flexed his ass muscles so hard his pants exploded. Unveiling his rippling thighs, his perky and mighty ass, his weirdly tiny feet, but most critically, his penis.

While technically a penis, it was more machine than it was flesh, with much of it shielded in a metallic frame. Its length was beyond excessive, unfurling itself from its tightly wound coil to reveal a 3 meters long shaft. When it came to mobility, the thing was even more slippery than a snake. So dexterous that it could flick and slash the entirety of its body through the air.

The Milkies momentarily marveled at this display of Dutch penile engineering… only for the penis to show its true power. The mechanical head of the penis pointed itself at the Milkies, and as their eyes looked upon it, its urethra expanded to reveal a set of serrated metal teeth. Teeth that it opened and shut with the intensity and power of an industrial blender!

After showing off this trick, KoKdiK plunged his mecha-dick forward, aiming for the nearest Milky before him, and that just so happened to be Paneer. In a single move, his cock penetrated past the zero suit, chewing it up and entering what laid between her legs. Paneer heaved from the impact, and stared down at the cyborg penis with widened eyes.

KoKdiK: “What? Is this not what you bitches want, to get fucked by a big-ass dick? Well, I’ll have you know, there is no dick in the entire continent as big as mine, and with it, I SHALL FUCK YOU TO DEATH!!! ALL MILKIES SHALL BE GENOCIDED BY MY DICK!!!” 

As KoKdiK loomed over Paneer, she raised her eyes and looked up at him with a cocky expression.

Paneer: “Oh you stupid little Nazi! You should know that no one has ever been able to out-sex a Milky! Not in this dimension and not in 68 others!”

After Paneer said that, the robo-penis began chomping away at her innards, causing a spasm of blood to squirt out of her.

Paneer: “Oookay, guys. I think I need some HELP here.”

Misa nodded as she received Paneer’s call for help, and immediately dashed toward KoKdiK as he stood still, his arms crossed against his chest. She leapt up into the air and launched a flying kick aimed squarely at KoKdiK’s neck… and he didn’t even flinch. As Misa observed this lack of damage, KoKdiK smacked her across the face, sending her flying through a drywall.

Three seconds after impact, Misa rose her head through the hole and looked at KoKdiK’s smiling face.

KoKdiK: “For such a tenacious bunch of warriors, your lack of wit— and strength— continue to amaze me. How you defeated my brethren in the west shall never cease to baffle me.”

As KoKdiK gloated, another batch of blood expelled from Paneer’s vagina.

Paneer: “Ah FRICK! Hey, guys, maybe try something else! I don’t know what, just… something!”

Misa stepped back into the room, crossing eyes with a baffled Gomme before scanning the room for anything she could use to her advantage. As she nearly completed a full scan of the room, her eyes froze on a large office plant. She dashed halfway across the room to this plant, plucked its four leafiest branches, and immediately threw two of them to Gomme.

Gomme: “STICKS! …What am I supposed to do with sticks?”

Misa: “You heard Paneer, she needs some help, so we’re going to try something they did back in Colombia!”

Gomme: “Uh… what did they do in Colombia?”

Misa: “The Milkies cheered their hero to victory.”

Gomme: “Cheer?”

Misa: “It’s a bit complicated. Just close your eyes, get on my wavelength, scope my vibe, and follow my flow. ‘Cos trust in Misa is the way to go!”

Gomme did as her spontaneously eccentric leader suggested, shutting her eyes while using her Milky Senses to ‘resonate’ with Milky. Once the link was established, Misa began shaking the leafy branches like they were pom-poms, and started moving her body about in a shaky exaggerated dance. Gomme found herself following along with the moves as if they were second nature, as if she had personally done this dance a dozen or three times.

Misa: “Yeah, yeah, that’s the ticket. Now come on, let’s start the lyrics! Just follow my lead and sing the first thing that comes to mind, okay?”

Gomme: “I, um, I guess so.”

Misa: “C’mon, give me a little more moxie! Where’s my chipper sistah at?”

Gomme: “Heh. Right here, sis! I don’t really know what’s going on, but I’ll give anything a shot!”

Misa: “That’s the spirit, now repeat after me: 1, 2, 3, let’s go! We’ll put on a special show!”

Gomme: “1, 2, 3, let’s go! We’ll put on a special show!”

Misa: “Together now!”

Misa & Gomme: “1, 2, 3, let’s go! We’ll put on a special show!”

Paneer: “Girls, are you just messing with me, or are you actually going to help me not get murdered by vaginal vo—”

Right at that moment, the Milky Cheer of Power and Determination officially began!

Misa & Gomme: “Go, go, fight Paneer! Hear our super Milky cheer! Hey, hey, look KoKdiK! Why are you such a prick? Don’t you know your fall is near? We are finally at the end! Cheering on our sweetest friend!”

KoKdiK: “Bahahahahaha! …You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me with this shit. You two couldn’t lay a finger on this billion dollar body of mine, so you’ve gone full retard!”

Misa & Gomme: “Ugh, gross, watch your words! We keep it clean in our Herds! Music speaks to the soul, and we’re really on a roll! A, A, B, B, A! Keep it up and save the day! Gotta keep this ending droll!”

Paneer: “That’s a limerick, not a song, you dumb peas! …And a bad one! …But either way it’s working! Keep it up!”

KoKdiK looked at Paneer with a cockeyed expression as she said that… only to realize that the distance between his crotch and Paneer’s vagina was getting smaller. He tried to pull out, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t even feel his penis head anymore. As much as he did not want to believe it, it appeared to him, in that moment, that Paneer’s vagina was eating his penis.

Misa & Gomme: “Nice, nice, suck him down! Keep it up and beat this clown! Gobble Willy inch by inch. Watch out son, don’t you flinch! Brace yourself right to the ground! ‘Cos you’re now in Milky town! As-sim-il-ate! It is your fate! Be a Milky, it feels great! Become happy, ditch that hate! And then maybe masturbate. Our bodies feel so good! Don’t resist, not like you could!”

KoKdiK: “Cease your incessant rhyming! And your most egregious timing! You think this is a mere game? We’re both conquerors, just the same! It’s all hierarchies we are climbing!”

Misa & Gomme: “Oh snap! What the crap? You just fell into our lap! Ha, ha, you are such a silly sap! Now you’ve fallen for our spell! You have broken your thick shell! You love it and you want it, see? So give up, make it easy!”

Paneer: “Like heck I’ll let that slide! I’m too far on this Milky ride! Come on Willy, where’s the pride? Show me your master’s stride!”

KoKdiK tried to retort Paneer with an action, but he was barely able to move his penis once it went past her vaginal lips, let alone harm her. Instead, he simply found himself growing closer and closer to her as she gobbled up his cyborg schlong.

KoKdiK: “You incessant little whore! Does my penis really bore? Though I was at full power… Shit, is this my final hour?”

Misa & Gomme: “Oh, ho, what is that? Hu-mi-li-ty from this brat? Come Paneer! Show no fear! Finish him! Now and here!”

Paneer: “Thanks a lot, you two. Your cheer pulled me through! Hear me now, KoKdiK! I will end you like a Brick! Just go and let it all out! I will even let you shout!”

Paneer then began tugging in two centimeters of KoKdiK’s penis a second, bringing his body closer to her and literally bringing him to his knees.

KoKdiK: “No, no, this is sick! Why’d I fall for your trick? This gag is dumb, not even clever! How’d I lose at this endeavor?”

Misa & Gomme: “It’s Milky magic, don’t you see? Poof, bop, it’s so easy! Eat him up with your vagina! Take him all the way to… southern China! Ha, woof, almost fluked! But our failure’s been rebuked! We’ll fight, fight, every day! ‘Cos we always get our way! Your stinky pecker might have a mouth! But your hopes are flying south!”

As the cheer progressed, KoKdiK could barely even see his penis anymore… and he did not want to know what would happen after that.

KoKdiK: “Please, please, don’t do this! I give, I’m sorry miss! I knew what I did was truly evil! I submit to your upheaval”

Misa & Gomme: “You enslaved all them kids! Chopped ‘em up just like squids! You’re a dastard, don’t you lie! We won’t even ask you why! Just get vored by Paneer! Take it smoothly, with no smear!”

Unfortunately, KoKdiK did not go down ‘smoothly.’ Once his penis was fully consumed by Paneer, she had developed a small yet notable bump in her belly to contain this long rope-y appendage. 

KoKdiK hoped that the rest of his body would be large enough to avoid a similar consumption… but then he felt his entire body sucked inside of Paneer. It was like an industrial strength vacuum sucking up a blanket, twisting and contorting the source before thrusting it into a bag. Except instead of a bag, it was Paneer’s womb. Her absurdly elastic womb that was somehow able to contain a being larger than herself. 

Misa, Gomme, and Paneer all looked at this archduchess of a womb with a level of awe… most especially Paneer.

Paneer: “What the frick?! What the frick?! What the frick?! Why is he inside me? Help! Please, for the love of Milky Sunshine, HELP!”

Gomme: “D’aw, Paneer is so kyute when she’s terrified!”

Misa: “Give it a minute girl, and she’ll start the Milkification process and will be reborn!”

Paneer: “W-Wait, you mean I’m going to become a mom? That KoKdiK is going to be my baby? I read the entire military contract, word-for-word, and it said NOTHING about giving birth to a Nazi G.O.D.S. So you better— Eurgh!”

As Paneer shouted at her MIlky buddies, she felt an intense pressure throughout her womb. It felt as if the elastic flesh that surrounded KoKdiK had decided to fight back and press down against him, shrinking as a result. From 80% to 60%, Paneer’s womb continued to condense at the rapid rate, only to abruptly stop when it was nearly a third of its former size. Still massive on Paneer’s frame, but not too much larger than the womb of someone carrying quintuplets.

Once the shrinking process began, Paneer exchanged looks with Misa, hoping that she would have some guidance to offer. Instead, Misa merely smiled and shot her a thumbs up.

Gomme: “So, um, are you doing… okay?”

Paneer: “…I feel like I’m about to pass out, vomit, poop, and pee, all at the same time. Misa, please, tell me when it’s going to— OOOOOHHH MY GOOOODNESSSS!”

On cue, a dark-skinned slime-covered hand emerged from Paneer’s vagina, clawing against the carpeting below in an attempt to escape. Its movements were frantic before it pulled against Paneer’s legs, giving it the grip needed to free its head. A head with a pair of dark coiled dual ponytails and the face of a Milky. She gasped like someone who had been holding their breath underwater for a full minute, filling up her lungs with air before coughing half of it back out. 

After the new Milky took a moment to breathe, Misa ran over to her, grabbing her hand, and putting another on Paneer’s legs.

Misa: “You’ve got this girls, now push with me. One, two, three!”

At her command, Misa, Paneer, and the new Milky all pushed and pulled themselves, putting their all into this one single action… in fact, they put a little too much into it. 

Rather than just sliding out, Paneer pushed against her womb with such pressure that the new Milky not only came out with a single shove, but she flew across the room. The voyage only lasted a second though, as she landed directly into the fine red leather chair used by KoKdiK… which promptly fell down. This sent the new Milky onto the carpet, where she immediately sprung to her feet and looked at the three other Milkies… who looked at her with a peculiar expression. Because this new Milky was… tiny. 

She stood at a mere 140 centimeters, a full 40 centimeters shorter than the standard MIlky. Her breasts were smaller than even Misa’s reduced cup size, barely filling her hands, while her rear was flat and lacked the cushion emblematic of the species. She did not look particularly younger— let alone like a child— but she did look like a smaller Milky in every sense of the word. Not a ‘legal loli’ but a ‘pocket-sized lady.’

Tiny Milky: “What the frick was that? How did… why did… why am I a Black girl… and why can’t I say words like frick without— Goldarn it!”

Misa: “Heh. Willy P. KoKdiK, I presume?”

Tiny Milky: “…Yes. Some freaking how, I am KoKdiK… but I don’t have my pecker or penis anymore and… I thought every Milky was supposed to be tall and busty by default, so why am I—”

Gomme: “Oh, I know! It’s because KoKdiK ‘was more machine than man!’ So he became a tiny Milky!”

Paneer: “I guess that makes sense. There wasn’t much human left in KoKdiK, so maybe there was not enough genetic information to make a new full size Milky.”

KoKdiK: “I guess that makes sense… I was only about 20% human so— wait, why the heck am I Black though?”

Paneer: “Um… because I… gave birth… to you? Ugh. Just saying that makes me feel sick.”

Misa: “Oh, you girls with your scientific theories. Those are both good conclusions, but allow me to offer an alternative, or supplemental, theory. This little cutie turned out this way… because she wanted it.”

Gomme: “…Why would someone who built such a tall robot body want to be teensy tiny like that?

Paneer: “And why would they want to be Black when they are such a white supremacist they intercapped their last name to emphasize that it had three K’s.”

Misa: “It’s called deflection, my dears. And it is a lot more common than you might think. If I had a cow for every burly masculine man who loved being a cute and über femme Milky, I would have my own darn army! Maybe after achieving the dream of becoming one of the most powerful men in the world, KoKdiK realized just how empty the success was, and began questioning what they wanted. They began desiring to be something else. Someone far different. Someone they desired so much they would capture many people like them. They thought being a robot man would be coolsies. They thought power was worth any sacrifice. But maybe they actually didn’t want that? Maybe, deep down, they just wanna be a li’l Black cutie! What do you think, sistah?”

Misa turned to KoKdiK after saying that, and found them in a fetal position, arms over their chest, shaking erratically.

KoKdiK: “I… I… I-I-I-I— N-No, that’s… that c-can’t be— If that is t-t-true then e-e-everything—”

Paneer: “Oh, you’ve gotta be freaking kidding me!”

Gomme: “Now, now, remember what Misa said about casting aside hate and doubt and embracing kindness and affection. Besides, a Milky can’t be racist… even if her Milky levels seem pretty low.”

As Gomme spoke, KoKdiK hid behind the toppled over chair, where they unleashed the tears they had been suppressing, muffling their mouth with their naked elbow in a vain effort to protect whatever pride they had left. 

As this display of sorrow reached its lowest point, Misa gently approached KoKdiK, and pulled them off of the ground and into her arms. KoKdiK continued to sob as she pressed herself against Misa’s reduced breasts, before finding the resolve to continue speaking.

KoKdiK: “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know how I thought… that any of this was okay! D-Darn it! It’s this body! These feelings aren’t wrong, but they’re…”

Misa: “Overwhelming, I know. But us Milkies believe in forgiveness and redemption no matter what. So, if you do feel bad about something you did in your past life, there is always some way you can make things right. Though, let me warn you, with a rap sheet like yours, it won’t be easy.”

KoKdiK: “That’s… okay. I’ll… I’ll do whatever I need to.”

Paneer: “You can start by ordering an unconditional surrender, Milbenkase. The sooner the fighting stops, the better.”

Gomme: “Mil-ben-kase? Isn’t that the cheese that’s filled with bug poop?”

Paneer: “Yep! Can you think of a more appropriate name for someone like her?”

KoKdiK: “Heh. I can’t deny that. Call me… Milbenkase. And as my first action as a… Milky, I shall bring this war to an end.”

With that, the four Milkies then walked through a door to another room. A room that KoKdiK used to communicate to his slaves and the outside world. Milbenkase quickly prepped the set up. Turning on the stationary camera and logging into the connected laptop before throwing on a short-sleeved shirt from her former wardrobe, which fit her like a dress. She stood on a chair in order to be within the camera’s range and, on her cue, the Milky Fighters started the broadcast.

Milbenkase: “Hello, citizens of the Netherlands. I am the leader of the Grand Oligarchical Democratic Syndicate of the Netherlands. You knew me as Willy P KoKdiK, but, as you can see and hear, I have been Milkified and transformed… far more dramatically than most. I speak to you to announce an unconditional surrender to the Milky Communist Utopia. I order all soldiers to cease fire and for all prisoners of war to be freed. As the one responsible for this conflict, I would like to apologize for my actions. I operated out of selfishness and avarice, caring not for others so long as my path brought me material gain. Only now that my mind has been cleared and my body reformed do I realize how much of a monster I was.”

Milbenkase: “I shall do whatever I can to aid the Milky Communist Utopia in their goals. For they are a group of people with such power that a mere three soldiers were able to infiltrate my dominion and defeat me in battle. And a group of people with enough kindness and affection to permit me to live. All of you, whether you be Brick or human, should join with the Milky Herd, and embrace the new sensations that come with your new body.”

Milbenkase: “I am not foolish enough to believe that this surrender shall make up for my past transgressions, and I doubt I can ever truly make amends. But, rest assured, I shall do whatever I can. …Um… I did not have a written speech or anything planned, so… I wish you a Merry Christmas and a Milky New Year!”

Paneer: “…Seriously?”

Milbenkase: “I don’t know! My brain’s full of weird stuff and talking like this is super weird and scary! Just… end the recording, please.”

Gomme did as Milbenkase requested. Ending the livestream, shutting off the video camera, and entering the metadata for the archive before the software distributed it to all relevant parties.

Milbenkase: “S-So, what’s next?”

Misa: “Next, you are going to need to apologize to the 128 children you imprisoned. THey’re all Milkies now, and I’m sure they have some… words for you, ya little scamp.”

Paneer: “Yeah, I’m sure they would just love to see their hands on the person who enslaved and mutilated them… wouldn’t you agree Gomme?”

Gomme: “No doubt, can’t deny! So let’s get her redemption saga started!”

Milbenkase: “Ehehehehe… you guys are going to help me if they try anything? R-Right?”

Misa: “We’ll observe. Now go, this is the first step of your retribution.”

With shaky legs and nothing to cover her tiny body other than a dress shirt, Milbenkase walked out of the recording room and into the lobby. There, 128 Milkies were gathered around a screen that, presumably, just finished playing Milbenkase’s broadcast. They turned in waves as the four approached, and their eyes were fixated on the tiny and shoddily dressed Milky before them.

Milbenkase: “H-Hello, you… girls. I… I want to say that I’m sorry for… c-chopping off your limbs and… i-imprisoning you and… r-raping you. As p-punishment for my actions, you can do w-whatever it is you want to me. I… I d-deserve it.”

As Milbenkase subjected herself to the overwhelming masses before her, she became lost in the tussle as the Milkies proceeded to do with her whatever they pleased. For while they had been offered some form of reparations with their new bodies, they were not going to let her off easy.

---

Das Ende

I wrote this novella prior to going into an intensive surgery knowing, fully well, that there was a non-zero chance that this could be the last story I ever write or publish. As such, at some point, I decided to make it into a ruthless indulgence of my own personal quirks as a writer. And… I regret absolutely none of what I wrote.