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Lactogenesis 24 The Halloween Party, Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sherri. Chris. How's the costume coming?"
"All done. Will you be ready to leave in, say, fifteen minutes?"
"I need a little help getting the last bit of makeup on. Can you
give me a hand?"
"No prob. Be there in two shakes of a cow's tail."
Chris hung up the phone and returned to the task of getting into
costume for Sherri's friend Jeremy's Halloween party-slash-orgy which was
scheduled to begin within the hour. She had racked her brain all the
previous week, trying to decide on a costume which would fit Jeremy's
requirement that it reflect some unique aspect of her sexuality. In both
Chris's and Sherri's cases lactation was the obvious choice, but choosing
an appropriate costume had been less obvious. Sherri had chosen to go
with self-effacing humor and dress as a dairy cow, but Chris wanted
something more subtle. Her inspiration had come just a couple of nights
before, as she was viewing a late-night showing of the film "A Clockwork
Orange" on cable -- specifically, a scene in which Alex and his droogs are
relaxing in a futuristic bar, drinking glasses of milk laced with
hallucinogenic drugs. They refilled their glasses from the spouting
breasts of white plastic sculptures of nude women with exaggerated figures
and wild hair. Perfect, Chris had thought. The reference is a little
obscure, but that will make for a good conversation-starter. The man at
the costume shop was a little puzzled when Chris bought practically his
entire supply of Clown White stage makeup and an outrageously voluminous
white wig, but he knew better than to ask questions, especially at
Halloween. The only other thing she'd needed to complete the costume was
a white bikini bottom -- Chris wasn't about to go to the party
*completely* nude, just mostly so. The act of smearing her body, and
particularly her breasts, with the thick white makeup cream had given her
a slight sexual buzz, just enough to increase her level of anticipation
for the coming events of the evening and dissipate what was left of her
fear of the unknown. She covered herself in white makeup from head to
foot, which gave her the illusion that she was actually wearing something
when in fact her only clothing was the bikini bottom. She had finished
adjusting the huge white wig and was putting on some overexaggerated false
eyelashes when Sherri arrived.
"Jesus, you look like the ghost of Dolly Parton," she quipped.
"And you look like Elsie herself," Chris retorted, laughing.
Sherri's costume was of black and white cloth, in the pattern of a prime
Guernsey, complete with tail, ears, and six breasts which served as an
udder. The top pair were Sherri's own, protruding from holes in the
fabric and painted to match the two fake pairs immediately below. Sherri
was chewing a large wad of gum, obviously intended to simulate cud.
Once the two finished complimenting each other on their choices of
costumes, Sherri helped Chris put makeup on the part of her back she
hadn't been able to reach. She finished by dusting Chris with powder that
set the makeup so it wouldn't readily rub off. Chris then donned an old
long coat and white sandals that she didn't mind getting messy; and they
were off, driving carefully so as not to get pulled over. Chris didn't
want to have to explain her costume, or lack thereof, to a cop. Sherri
didn't bother to cover herself; she got a kick out of flashing her
"udders" at passing motorists all the way out to Jeremy's place.
"Some pad, isn't it?" Sherri asked as they pulled up to the house.
"Estate would be more like it," Chris commented. Indeed, Jeremy's
digs were absolutely palatial compared to Chris's humble abode. The house
was of white stone, a contemporary design, 5000 square feet easy. It sat
in the middle of a plot of land so large that the next door neighbors
could not be seen. Manicured hedges and a small reflecting pool with a
fountain (a Venus figure with water flowing from her breasts, Chris noted)
complimented the cobblestone paths leading to a huge double door, which
was illuminated with a blacklight. A suit of armor with glowing red eyes
in the visor stood guard.
Sherri rang the doorbell, then giggled when a recording of a
bloodcurdling scream replaced the expected "ding-dong". Suddenly the two
were bathed in blood-red light from overhead floods, and the doors opened
inward on very squeaky hinges, in classic haunted-house style. There was
no one in the doorway. Instead, a recording of a fairly good Bela Lugosi
imitation bade them enter. The entrance foyer and the hallway leading
away from it were darkened, illuminated only with a few meager candles.
Fake cobwebs brushed at them as they moved slowly down the hall. At the
far end, a robotic skeleton was beckoning to them, pointing at another
door. Chris could hear music and the hum of voices in conversation behind
it.
"This must be the place," Sherri said. "Ready?"
Chris steeled herself. Another step on the journey, she told
herself. How's this for self-discovery? I'm about to enter a room full
of strangers, clad in nothing but white makeup, and most likely have sex
with at least one of them. A year ago, who'da thunk it? Her id won the
battle with her superego: she removed her coat and stood there in her
brilliant white, almost-naked glory. Her nipples instantly responded to
the slight autumn chill in the air. In the unsteady light of the hallway,
she looked eerily magnificent. She draped the coat over the skeleton's
outstretched hand and said, "Let's do it."
Sherri knocked on the door. After a few seconds it opened to reveal
their host. Jeremy was as Sherri had described him: short but muscular,
chiseled good looks, and quite hirsute. He had a Kirk Douglas-like dimple
in his chin. It was hard to tell where his own body hair stopped and that
of his costume started. He was dressed as a satyr. Thick brown "fur" ran
in a stripe down his back and spread out to cover his lower torso and
legs. He had painted his exposed skin brown. Prosthetic horns sprouted
from his forehead, his ears were pointed Spock-style, and makeshift hooves
were on his feet. He held a drink in one hand and a panpipe in the other.
Chris noticed none of this, however. Her eyes were riveted on his penis,
which hung freely down a good length of his furry thighs. It began to
stir as Jeremy beheld his two new guests. He had painted it brown as
well.
He stepped back and scanned Sherri up and down. He grinned broadly
as he said to her, "That's great. I love it. What a stitch." He leaned
closer and added, "I hope you're prepared to show us why you're dressed
like that."
Sherri smiled back. "Pervert," she said. She indicated Chris.
"Jeremy, I'd like you to meet my friend Christine."
He took Chris's hand and kissed it. His eyes shone mischeviously as
he looked up into her face. His erection was becoming more noticable.
"Of course, the fair milkmaid," he said. "I have been waiting a long time
to meet you. Sherri tells me you're one of a kind." Chris could think of
no response. Jeremy gave her a much longer visual examination than he had
Sherri. Chris felt her nipples stiffen even more under his penetrating
gaze. Finally he said, "Let me guess. Clockwork Orange, right?"
Chris sent a surprised look at Sherri. "Told you he'd know it,"
Sherri said.
Jeremy stepped behind them and ushered them through the door. He
touched a button on the wall which muted the music and caused the other
guests to look in his direction. "Everyone," he announced, "this is
Sherri and Christine. They're here to make sure that you all have your
minimum daily requirement of dairy products." A few chuckles from those
who had gotten a good look at Sherri's costume. Most didn't understand
his reference, so Jeremy continued, "Never mind. I'm sure you'll find out
for yourselves later. Everybody is here now, so let the games begin!"
Chris leaned close to Sherri and hissed into her ear, "Oh, great.
Why not tell the world? I don't want these people grabbing my boobs and
trying to milk them."
"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't have dressed like that," Sherri
whispered back. Chris was shocked, not because of what Sherri'd said, but
because she realized that she was right. When will I stop surprising
myself? she thought.
Jeremy placed himself between Sherri and Chris, put each arm around a
waist, and guided them toward the bar. Halfway there a woman in a black
leather B&D outfit sauntered up to Jeremy and without warning pinched the
head of his penis between black-nailed fingers. He didn't flinch.
"Well, Jeremy love, I guess we all know who *your* favorite is," she
said, and walked on. Chris wasn't sure what she meant until she glanced
downward. Jeremy was now sporting a tremendous erection that was brushing
the hair on his belly. When she was finally able to look up again, she
saw Jeremy wearing an ever-so-slight grin and arching one eyebrow as if to
say, "What did you expect?"
She glanced over to Sherri, who was also wearing an enigmatic smile,
only hers seemed to say, "He's all yours if you want him." She stole
another look at Jeremy's impressive manhood, and suddenly found herself
wondering if the body paint covering it would come off inside her.
Another movie cliche flashed through her mind: Bette Davis on a stairway
saying, "Fasten your seat belts. It's going to be a bumpy ride."
<<to be continued>>
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