FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

M: Hey, you must be the new guy.

E: Shepherd Eric Taylor reporting for duty, sir! I'm sorry I'm late, I had trouble finding--

M: Whoa, easy bud. I'm not your boss. You're gonna be replacing me here, right?

E: Uh... yeah, I was told I'd be overseeing the, eh... extraction. They didn't give me a lot of details.

M: Well, you're a little past due, but you're just in time for the show. Have a seat.

E: Whoa... so that's... Her?

M: The one and only. What do you see?

E: Phh. Um... well, she's naked, and--

M: The species, I mean. You see a-- what're you, a robin?

E: Y-yeah. I wasn't gonna say anything, but I thought it was a little weird.

M: Yeah, nah, when I look I see a Dachshund.

E: Seriously?

M: Yup. Through the monitor and everything. It only works live, though-- if you try to look at a recording, it's just kind of a blur.

E: Freaky. Well... I guess you'll get things like that when you're working with a god...

---

"...and your faith shall be your shield, the love of your fellow man your cloak, that you may stand strong against temptation. Go to your duty, Shepherd, and let the will of the church be done. Amen." The High Priest made the holy gesture over Salem one more time, and stood back, the ritual complete. For a moment, the air hung heavy with tradition and responsibility. Then the old iguana puffed a sigh and smiled. "You ready, son?"

After passing several layers of security, inspections, and sealing doors, Salem was a little too nervous to really match the sudden casualness in his address, but he was glad-- he'd been afraid he might be thrown right into it without the chance to ask a few questions. "Um, just about, High One. But if I could-- I'm going to be doing this... alone?" The young canine glanced at the broad, metal door they stood before, a single slab of steel set in a hexagonal frame with a small window. Inside, a small chamber led to another, similar door. An airlock?

"Yes, I'm afraid so. At least, you'll be carrying it out on your own-- to minimize exposure, you see. Our technicians will be observing, so don't worry, they'll be keeping tabs on things for you. You just concentrate on your training and get the work done." The High Priest offered a friendly smile. "I have faith in you, Salem. As does the Church. We know you will uphold your duty." He raised a finger. "And you don't have to work too hard all at once. Take a break if you feel you need to. Our technicians have the chime to remind you to get back to work, should your mind wander a moment."

"The... oh, the... um, from the hypnosis?" That still made Salem a bit queasy, but if they believed hypnosis would fortify him for the ordeal, then he would trust the church's judgment. He was just proud he'd been chosen for such a sacred duty! He was sure his parents would have been proud, and if nothing else, he was going to work hard in the hopes that they were watching over him. He nodded resolutely. "Don't worry sir, I'll stay on track."

There might have been a glimmer of sadness in that smile. "I know you'll do your best, son. Good luck." He nodded to the camera up in the ceiling, and with a crack and a hiss, the door stirred, and rolled to one side. Salem could only stare at the huge portal a moment, before remembering himself and stepping through. "Gods be with you," the old man murmured, and the door slid shut between them as the Bernese turned back to look. The Gods... Well... one of them certainly would be.

He drew a deep breath and faced ahead. Okay. He'd had a whole day's training for this, including hypnosis. He was ready. No rituals, they'd said. No prayers. All that was already done for him. Just go in and get what they needed, all that he could. They hadn't been all that specific on when he'd stop, he supposed the technicians would let him know. Through the small window, he thought he could glimpse something, but it was darker in there, and he couldn't make out much through the white glare of the airlock. He stepped forward, trying to squint through, and the door jerked slightly with that same crack and hiss.

A thick, spicy scent filled his nostrils as warm air poured in around him. The door rolled slowly to one side as the young dog blinked and shook his head a little, the scent seeming to cling to the inside of his head. Incense, clean sweat, and something else... something he remembered... It took a moment for him to realize, when he stopped blinking, that the lights themselves were jittering a little. He glanced up, and the pristine white bulbs were flickering in and out, faltering. He frowned, and peered into the room, squinting into the darkness. There were no electric lights inside, only clusters of candles low in the corners and stringing along the walls. He stepped forward, and that scent grew thicker, filling his head, a full-bodied musk. He coughed slightly, but the next breath filled his lungs with the warm odor. Salem stepped down, from pristine metal onto warm stone, strangely uneven under his slippers.

The door lurched and rumbled, slowly sliding closed again behind him as he jumped at the noise. He was still blinking around in the darkness when the door slid fully shut, and while the lights inside the airlock seemed to steady again, they shone only a narrow beam through the little window. He thought he was adjusting, though.

Thunder storms. That's what had been tickling in the back of his mind. One of the few memories he had of his parents was when he was very small, and there'd been a thunder storm, and he'd run into their room. They'd been moving around but stilled quickly, and he begged his way into their bed. Under the sheets, the scent...

Shadows and candlelight slowly bloomed into a dark, broad shape, barely a suggestion of mass he could pick out by the glisten of dark, shaggy fur. A single steel pole gleamed silver between him and this penumbral form-- a runed length driven into the ground, with shackles molded into the side and a thick collar at the top, nearly a foot over his head.

So, this was her... The Goddess. The Mother. One of the two primal forces that had given birth to all of creation. The stories said they did manifest on occasion, but he'd never imagined that one could be... captured. When he'd learned the Church had done just that, he'd at once swelled with pride and quailed at the very thought. But... he could not resist the temptation to see for himself. And, here... Standing in Her presence, Salem could believe. The air was weighted with something he could not quite identify, something that elicited a thrill of terror in him and the warmest comfort at once, warring in the back of his mind where he struggled to stuff them away and keep control. He had a duty to perform.

She was not pure black: those shackles held close two delicate fists of white fingers, and below, a slow swipe of motion drew his eyes to the white tip of her tail as it swayed to one side and curled slowly around the pole. She had her back to him, and but for these two points, she was a dark series of strange curves: hips, broad and plump such that he might not be able to reach fully round to both sides of them; thick thighs that rippled slowly with the subtle motion of her shifting her weight; above, strange shapes-- was she obese? She'd been pictured many ways, but that didn't seem quite right. He... should move closer.

Drawing a deep breath, he gathered himself, flexing his paws into fists and pulling his ceremonial robe straight. No ceremony, no prayer. Only duty. Right. He glanced to either side, at the mundane accoutrements. They'd fallen out of his notice in the dim light under her... presence. At first he thought them tables, but as he stepped toward the arrangement, he saw she was flanked by narrow conveyors, a simple array with belts on rollers on each side of her leading to dark alcoves in the walls.

The scent was growing stronger. It seemed to build up in his nose, in his throat, and in his mind. The canine's mouth fell open to pant softly, and it began to flavor his tongue and the roof of his mouth. Something sweet, and warm, that sent a faint rumble of thunder through the back of his mind, stilling his warring emotions, if only for a moment. His eyes were on her, following the slow roll of her silhouette, subtly gleaming black against shadowed stone, as he stepped around one side of her. She did bear a belly, but it was little more than a small, perfectly round stomach-- overshadowed by the true bulk that had confused him: four colossal, stacked breasts, tipped with broad, pink nipples poking from the dark shag of her fur and slowly leaking four thin dribbles of glittering cream.

He found his mouth opening, his tongue splaying between teeth and lip in a spread of hunger as his feet brought him suddenly closer-- but he shook, and stopped himself. He was told there would be temptation, but he would be strong! He dragged his eyes up, though they lingered just a moment on the shock of white fur spread across her cleavage, and indeed that continued down the inside of both pairs-- but he dragged his eyes up yet again with a faint groan. Her throat was white, and her delicate chin, and the gentle smile, the dark nose was framed in white fur. Up the bridge of her nose, a slender slice of white blossomed into a circle, a sun set on her very brow. Salem had been born a Bernese Mountain Dog and raised among many relatives, but never had he realized his humble features could so eloquently evoke the connection between heaven and earth.

She smiled fondly down at him, her head turning slowly to regard him with chocolate eyes, glittering in amusement, highlighting the buds of brown on her brow and cheeks. She smiled at him, and she could have been his mother, if his mother had been nearly seven feet tall, stacked beyond imagination, and hotter than-- NO.

"Salem." Her mouth formed the word, at once forging his name and kissing it into existence. His heart lurched in his chest. His eyes watered. He had been so unfaithful. How many times had he doubted she really existed? How many services had he quietly skipped for some paltry, selfish reason? How many prayers had he uttered half-heartedly, if at all? How could he have gone so long without seeing her, without touching her, without truly worshiping? And yet, the love in her eyes was forgiveness, absolute and unconditional, and his mouth drew wide and tight with the beginning of a sob, or thanks, or an apology.

"Come here, honey." Her words were all the acceptance he needed and, arms shaking, he pressed timidly to embrace her, a single, choked moan of sorrow escaping him. "Ssh, shhh... I know..." Her words faded into a soft hum, something musical, yet it was no tune he'd ever heard. His arms buried between one heavy bosom and the other to wrap around her as best he could, practically disappearing into the warmth between her higher and lower breasts as he buried his face in one dark, soft mountain. The motion and pressure only pressed thick, warm moisture to slowly soak into his robes and dribble down one side of his head. He shuddered softly. "Here, now. You must be thirsty. I've more than I know what to do with..." Her gentle words were tinged with just a hint of playfulness, of laughter, and he found his tears drying as his head turned and raised slightly, mouth seeking.

PING. The chime, a digital recording of some fine, metallic instrument or other being struck, sent a shock of tension through him. Duty. He had a duty to maintain. Something whirred to one side, but still he wavered a moment. He was terribly thirsty... it wouldn't hurt to have just a little drink before he got to work, would it? His mouth opened, and he quivered, but slowly, he pulled away. It took a moment to drag his arms from the majestic weight of her chest, soft, rolling flesh seeming to cling to him, to embrace him, and her eyes glimmered sadly in the corner of his vision as he tore his gaze away, toward the sound.

One of the conveyors had delivered his equipment: a simple bucket, of some peculiar metal. He took it numbly, still quietly warring for control of himself as he turned back to her. He did not dare look her in the eyes now, so instead, he stared at his objective: those magnificent breasts he hadn't dared to consider a moment before. The inner cleavage of each dark, shaggy globe bore the white fluff of his species, running down to just a tiny tuft at the top of her belly. Against the dark but glistening spread of the rest of her coat, it looked as though the only true light in the room was shining from within her. Indeed, the narrow window of the airlock was completely hidden by her broad form, and the generous curves of her chest seemed the brightest part of the room entire, catching the light of every candle to make a golden blaze of those soft ruffles. These creatures were his purpose here.

He brought a paw up clumsily, feeling garish in simply considering it, but he grabbed at the fat nipple he'd nearly tasted. It practically filled his paw. She gave a soft noise, a bare breath of a moan, that sent a flush through him all at once. In the edge of his vision, he thought she might have been smiling again...

Drawing a deep breath, he hefted the bucket up and gave an experimental squeeze and pull at the tip of that fat teat. Another scandalizing moan rose as a single jet of cream arced from that thick tip to rattle against the inside of the pail, and his nose twitched. Sweet. So sweet, and something else... In his throat, shallow, gasping breaths rose softly as he pulled again, and again, watching under hooded eyes as he fumbled at that thick swell of hardening flesh, milking her as he might a cow, lacking experience with either. Even so, she cooed in delight, and those broad hips swayed slowly one way, then the other.

And suddenly, wet warmth sloshed across his feet. He jumped, and looked down-- he'd spilt her milk! He stared at the bucket, dumbfounded to find it full, his arm burning holding it up. He looked up to her, apologetic, and she was smiling broadly, her eyes drawing him in, so loving, so welcoming were they that he almost felt like his heels were pulled off the floor a moment. He coughed and pulled his gaze away, glancing to his sodden slippers once more with regret. What a waste...! Hefting the handle in both paws, he solemnly carried the pail to the other conveyor and carefully, reverently placed it square in the middle. For a moment, there was silence. Then the belt whirred into motion, and the bucket slid away into darkness. He stared after it.

They'd told him the Milk of the Mother was a sacred substance with uses innumerable and invaluable. Every drop could save lives, or give them, or improve them vastly, with the right application. It was his duty to harvest all that he could. Yet... he'd just filled an entire pail easily from one breast. Indeed, that tip was still leaking-- if anything, it seemed to be dribbling faster now. How much could she produce? When they said to 'harvest all he could,' just what limit was he working against? And... how much did they expect of him? He swallowed and looked the other way as another whirring announced the arrival of a new bucket on the opposite side.

Salem moved to take it, but he hesitated before the Goddess, feeling her gaze warm and intent upon him. He could feel the gentle sway of her breath. Her inhale seemed to draw him along with the air toward that slowly swelling chest, and her exhale, he thought he could feel the warmth of her rolling over him, could taste the sweetness of her breath, of her tongue. The candles were a blur of twinkling circles wandering around in his periphery as he turned toward her. The High Priest had said...

~~~

E: Wait, so THIS is...?

M: Yup. Better stand back a little, it's potent stuff. Phew!

E: That sure smells... good...

M: Hahaha, of course it does! This is The Good Stuff. Better'n a hunnerd-year bottle of wine.

E: Have you ever... tasted it?

M: Pfft. Naw. We keep eyes on him, but they keep eyes on us. See?

E: Oh. So... they don't trust us?

M: They don't trust anybody that's been exposed even a little, not completely. This guy thinks he's gonna be doing this a while, but they bring in a new one every time. And he's supposed to be of "Moderate Force of Will."

E: Moderate? I thought he'd be, like, handpicked for his ability to resist temptation or something.

M: Well, he's gotta score pretty well on that, yeah, but that only gets you so far. Nobody ever lasts more than a day. So they don't want to use up all their best and brightest on this, you know?

E: Huh... So what does that make us?

M: You and me? We're the scum.

E: What!

M: I dunno what you did to get assigned here, but they knew when they put me here that I don't even buy into the religion. Didn't, I guess. Heh. Anyway, they know I'm not gonna be a shining example elsewhere, but here, I get just a low dose, so to speak. So I'm okay for a while. Been here what, half a year? Guess they think it's time for a new guy. And hell, maybe they're right. Some days, I wonder... just how much I could drink, before someone stopped me, you know?

E: Uh...

M: Pfffahahaha! Don't worry, I won't flip now. I'm getting a cushy assignment after this for good behavior. You, though, I dunno why you're here. Maybe they think they'll try someone a little sterner.

E: Right... I guess... maybe I should...?

M: Hey, you wanna take over handling the stuff, be my guest. Wouldn't want me making a scene your first day, right? Just make sure the lid is sealed, and put it in cooling. That big door.

E: Alright... h-hey, is he supposed to do that?

M: Hm? Oh! Haha. He's only getting started. Like I said, you're in for a show...

~~~

The High Priest had said...

It was okay to take a break. Warm, sweet, naked flesh pressed to his tongue, and his mouth closed around a plump areola, studded with goosebumps. The taste that burst across his tongue as he applied the first hint of suction was not sweetness, but something that might be mistaken for it. He tasted the sacred flow of life. He tasted the bitterness of sorrow and the tang of hard-earned accomplishment, the salt of fury and the heady, clinging flavor of love. And joy, sweet joy, he tasted it, and he swallowed it, and he drank deeply. He dimly recognized that, as any other milk tasted good indirectly for the way the body yearned for it and was nourished by it, the taste of the Goddess was not something that he could directly define, not any simple flavor, but the taste of nourishment, the taste of something in his very soul being replenished, and nurtured, and soon glutted by his desperate need to draw, and to draw, to gulp down her essence by the mouthful as she cooed wordless adoration over him, warm breath tickling his ears.

PING. His head wrenched back, gasping, and though his mouth was flooded with cream he did not choke or cough. His body sagged, as much falling away from her as standing away. He had a duty to perform. His eyes watered as his mouth closed in a petulant grimace, though partly just to hide that last mouthful as he savored it, rolling his tongue through that warm honey until he could not bear not to swallow it. He took the bucket with contempt.

He was painfully hard, he realized, his robes tented and uncomfortable. For an instant he considered disrobing, but he pushed the thought away. Inappropriate. But... his slippers were stained with milk, and might even be slippery. He kicked them aside and spread his toes on the warm stone, near hers.

Straining up on tiptoe, he wrapped his arm around the other of the higher breasts, the one that had gone untouched. He pressed his back to her arm, burying his paw in her cleavage to hug the massive teat to himself awkwardly, but it let him heft the bucket up to her-- and give the whole, subtly jiggling mass a great squeeze. Milk thundered into the bucket as a delighted moan reverberated behind him, vibrating against his side as he stumbled a little against her. "Oh, Salem... that feels wonderful..." The goddess giggled softly, pressing her chest into him, and he practically hung on her, panting and staring into the rapidly filling bucket.

It was full almost suddenly, and though he tried to drag free of her breast and reduce the flow before any could spill, the creamy white, barely bubbled elixir was already nearly to the brim as that glorious teat sprayed on. He had no choice but to catch the excess, wrapping his lips around that fat, fountainous tip as she cooed her appreciation, and he struggled not to suck, but simply to accept her milk. Warmth poured down into him, through his stomach, through his slowly throbbing manhood, all the way down through the soles of his feet and into something else. When it eased to a trickle he managed to drag himself off her once again, panting heavily. Duty. Duty.

He pushed the bucket firmly into place on the waiting belt, and turned back, staring at the other conveyor and the empty pail slowly rolling into position. Salem would do his duty. He snatched up the bucket before he could change his mind, and turned to heft it to one of her lower breasts.

This was more difficult. If he simply pressed up at her breast, squeezing it into the great weight of its neighbor above, his paw just about disappeared into the utter softness of her flesh, to his shuddering satisfaction. Trying to hug it like before was worse-- he had to try and squeeze his arm into two different sets of cleavage to get around the great mammary, and he found when he tried he could hardly think to milk but to simply squeeze and nuzzle at those impossibly soft pillows, that seemed so ready to embrace him even when her arms were cruelly restrained from doing so. He would find himself panting raggedly into her flesh, mouth nearing one of those fat tips, and only realized himself when the bucket gave a CLANG against the floor-- he'd dropped it!

~~~

E: Phhh... geez... so, but... Why do they even send people in there, if it does this to them? I mean... couldn't they get a lot more just using a pump or something?

M: Haha, they tried that. And it didn't work. They tried putting weights on her tits, and they tried just hanging her up and catching the dribbles, just about everything they could think of. But it's the damnedest thing. She just won't produce for anything but a living hand, or a mouth. She has to see them, she has to be able to talk to them, they have to be able to see and talk to her. Hard to say if that's just some kinda crazy rule of the cosmos or something, but I figure she's just doing it on purpose.

E: Just... turning it off, huh? But, why would she want to talk with them so bad?

M: Oh, she's got her reasons. Give her some time, she's working up to it...

~~~

A heavy grunt caught in Salem's throat as he stooped to pick up the pail. Not for effort, but because the scent --the musk that had tickled at his nose, and through it, his memories-- was suddenly thick, he practically swam through it to retrieve the container. He tried to cough, but gasped instead, finding himself filling with this warm scent, this heady presence, this aura. His brain swirled in his skull.

"Salem." The quiet call brought up his eyes, tracking quickly up her myriad curves to meet the goddess' eyes-- or, so he tried, but he barely glimpsed her simple, warm smile before he found his gaze falling down to what he'd passed over. Nestled below the perfect curve of her plump belly and between the plush expanses of her thighs, a pink blossom called his attention. Despite being nearly hidden, it glistened with moisture, especially the swollen bud at the top, seeming to catch the low candlelight eagerly, reclining flush and proud against the dark backdrop of her thick fur.

It grew closer, and he found he was kneeling, nostrils flared. This was... under the sheets, the scent of... Mother. The source, become the destination. That which both takes and gives eagerly.

Panting over it, he moaned, and it stirred subtly in answer, a single pearl of moisture falling free to splatter on his knee. He trembled, and dragged a single paw up.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her belly and stood, half-dragging himself up. N, no. Not ye-- not now. Not... he's... he's got to... do his... duty. The word seemed bitter, a mockery of itself, but still he hefted that bucket. Wrapping his fingers around that fat lower nipple, he set to milking her out the slow way, teeth grinding as he stared, trying to ignore the way his tongue writhed in his muzzle and his stomach growled even though it was a little uncomfortably full already. Watching the bucket slowly fill was a bitter agony.

Onto the conveyor, with a clang and a slosh. He scraped up the spilt cream running down the far side in his paw, and stuffed his fingers in his mouth as he turned back. His head was buzzing, but that didn't do a thing to drown out the gentle, needy coo the Mother gave as he stepped past her to take the next bucket, a dull gray blob he snatched angrily from the black blob under it. He practically fell into her, burying his head against her breast as he hefted the pail to her one unmilked teat.

Fumbling paws grabbed all around, and finally he just jammed the bucket to her fat tit and used the inner rim to push against, squeezing roughly at that soft flesh to encourage the rattling drills melting into splashes within. Worse, she was moaning over him at the rough treatment, shuddering and rolling her hips, and suddenly one broad, powerful leg drew up, an unimaginably soft thigh hugging to his hip as her calf folded round his rear-- pulling him tight against her. She purred over him, "Salem...!" His furious hardon dug into the inner fluff of her other thigh through his robes, dangerously close to that creature, that core radiating heat and musk and need, and his mouth broke open in an agonized moan.

"Your clothes, Salem... you don't need them, with me..." Blood pounding in his ears, he found he was dragging at his robe rather than milking her. He whimpered, eyes skittering about, but he could see nothing but her, nothing but glistening black fur rolling over lush flesh, the occasional glimpse of warm white, be it snuggly fluff or dribbling ambrosia. His hips were rolling, pushing, and he honestly didn't know if he was doing it or she was, but all he could think of was what awaited on the other side of that paltry layer of fabric, what he would feel with just the smallest adjustment...

He barely managed to lower the bucket before letting it clonk on the floor, half full. His paws were tearing at himself, grazing through fur in confusion to yank away offending layers of smothering nonsense, it was suffocating him, it was trapping him, it was in the way!

Fur, finer and softer than gossamer, embraced and slid over his twitching length, the focus of his panting attention, and below that fluff, flesh that gave way to every shaky prod and grind, yielding yet embracing him, guiding him inward, upward, every inch scintillating and welcoming. His confused flurry of motions finally broke as the last of his robes flung away from him, and his arms wrapped around her instead, a fervent moan in his throat. Another desperate grind, and he tasted the first glimpse of wet, bare flesh, a flare of heat.

But he froze in place. This was... the Great Mother. Legend said that all of existence was literally born from this sacred place... and he wanted to sully it with...?

"I know what you want." Her eyes were amused slits under that brilliant brow. A twitch, and his head nestled fully to hot, wet flesh. She leaned closer conspiratorially, what little her collar allowed, and whispered huskily over his ear. "It's okay... this one time." Her leg was a tightening ring of warmth hugging close to almost half his body, or so it felt as she drew him in against her. Slick lips clung to his tip, spreading, straining to embrace him, and his mouth fell open in a moan, but he had no air to press from his lungs as he sank into divinity herself, the gloss of lust coating him, soaking him, as he slid easily to press her depths apart, to burrow into her flesh at the very core.

His head threw back, and he dragged air laboriously to moan out, almost scream out his exultant worship, his debased love. His hips shoved tight to hers, slowly grinding in tight against her lush inner curve, wriggling and digging in tight between her spreading thighs. For a moment, it was the only thought he could summon-- deeper. More. He drove against her, working furiously to bury the very last fraction of an inch, for something extraordinary lay nestled between those lips. From first split, absolute serenity, a kind of blissful oneness with the world kissed to his mind and slowly filled him. The deeper he delved, the greater the pressure, the reverberating joy, the heat of absolution. His head roared with something strange, something wonderful, as his balls mashed against her thigh, the canine welded up against her at a desperate angle to grind brutally up her inner walls. Just a little deeper, and something just... might... pop...

But he could not touch any deeper part of her. He sobbed once into her breast, head falling heavy upon the great pillow, and warm cream spilt down his chest. He sought out that tip without a thought and drank, and strength flooded him, his arms drawing up tense to seize at her lower teats. He dragged himself back, though it was agony to ascend from those blessed depths, and he hauled back on her majestic mounds to shove home, truly home within that sweetness with a thick slop of juices on all sides. He still couldn't go deeper, but he found that the descent, the journey to her core was still an exquisite swell of ecstasy, at once enveloping his aching hard shaft in buttery smooth, sopping flesh that clung tight to every inch, and sending a surge of existential awe rolling through his every neuron, flooding his skull with the warmth of absolute content.

His hips knew what to do, but the rest of him couldn't keep up. He pounded into her, but it was his mind, his every nerve, his very soul that took the hammering, a split-second echo of each collision pulsing through his every vein, sending a ripple through his fur, making his teeth ache, his ears ring, his brain swell with lust, with devotion, with pleading, gibbering pleasure. He clawed into her and she only pulled him closer, moaning his name as his balls slapped wet against the Goddess of Creation. He drank of the Mother of All, letting her excess spill down his chin as he gulped sloppily and panted against her, eyes filled with her soft mercy, ears filled with her pleased moans, nose filled with the scent of her need, his every nerve wracked with the ecstasy of her core radiating up through him, his tongue surely numbed to any taste but her ambrosia. She was the world.

Harsh, wet slaps built to a rapid, desperate raucous of violent defiance, the young canine denying the lurch and churn of his balls, the flare of his knot. He needed more, so much more, and he'd only just begun. Her folds were perfection, and the harder he fucked her the more intricately they clung to him in an arcane pattern of silken ridges and flexing tightness, lighting up every inch of his shaft in something more than fiery pleasure, but a blaze of pure energy. If the sun had a pussy, he dimly reckoned...

He had no thought for the future, truly, he could not imagine withstanding what he was putting himself through, but he knew only that he did not want it to end. He could not bear it. He threw his body into her, lurching off his heels, every muscle, every bone turned to fucking the Mother, and he felt her lush form heave and ripple and bounce against him as his teeth dug into her teat, her belly warm against his, her calf crushing at his back. For just... this one time... she was his. And he was taking her, all of her, all of her!

His mouth broke from her spraying tip and he roared, body straining, creaking taut as he drove up into her, and his knot flared as his balls lurched up in agreement, his paws buried in her bottomless tits, mashing them down and back to draw her into the assault even as he fucked her against an immovable object. Seed scorched through him, raw essence, the full of his being launching in jet after thick jet into her welcoming, quivering, milking core, and the goddess keened her pleasure, toes digging at one tense cheek of his ass.

Pumping, steel tight against her, the canine ground his teeth, eyes shut tight, savoring every pulse, the feel of her at once straining wide around his throbs and rippling tight, even conforming perfectly to his knot, capturing it, slathering it in love and sealing tight behind it. But his muscles began to tremble, and his heels reluctantly, achingly sank to the floor again, though his knot held him nicely buried even as he started to sag, piece by piece, falling slack and panting out hoarse groans. He'd... hardly lasted any time at all... She hadn't really meant j-just once, had she? Maybe once he unknotted, he could...

His heart lurched. What was he thinking? He still... he still had his duty! He couldn't forget about that... Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself, forcing his slack, aching muscles into motion. He stooped down...

~~~

M: Jealous? ...Hey, you okay?

E: Uh! Oh. Ahem. Uh. Y-yeah, I'm... gods, though...

M: Hehee. Yeah, I'm jealous, too. But, well... I dunno if you'd think it was worth it.

E: What, o-only doing it once? Hff... I guess I could see how that could be... murder...

M: Snk. Yeah, probably. But, well... Keep watching. ...Holy cow, he's still trying? Not bad, kid.

~~~

He was practically hanging by his knot for a moment --she really did have a good grip on him!-- but he managed to snatch up the bucket. Just lifting it, half full, was several moment's shaky straining, but he managed to scoop one arm down around it and heft it to her last teat.

The goddess heaved a chuckling sigh. "Such a good boy... such a hard worker!" Her voice curled high, melting into a pleased coo as he started milking her once more, still throbbing slowly deep in the unbearable heat of her core. "Salem... my dear Salem..." She whispered to him intimately. "You'd do anything for me, wouldn't you, my love?" He dimly nodded before he could form a single thought. He would. She was the Mother, and he was one of her many sons. He'd known this a long time, but now, he truly knew it, down to his very core.

She shifted slowly, drawing the air close and conspiratorial once more. "Salem..." Something new entered her voice for the first time: sadness. His eyes juttered up, struggling to focus on her. The rich brown patches on her cheeks had the suggestion of teardrops. "This collar... it hurts me." She swallowed, straining against the thick, runed metal band encasing her throat. "Can't you help me?" He stared. "Please, Salem..." He blinked hard.

"Help me..."

His eyes watered shut. He didn't know the first thing about the collar that bound her! And... e-even if he did... the church... all of mankind...! "I-I'm... s-s-s..." He broke into choked sobs suddenly, lowering his head, not even daring to press it to her breast. How could he fail her like this? When she only wanted one thing, when she'd given him so much, he was... worthless... less than dirt, nothing more than a filthy stain on--

She sighed heavily, and drew him close, that leg drawing up his back, trailing a toe up his spine to press him firm to her breasts once more. "Sshhh... shhh... It's okay... there, there..." Yet, the disappointment was audible in her voice, even as she comforted him. He shook, clinging to her with one arm, hating himself for still holding the full bucket close in his other.

"P... please..." He mumbled into her, back trembling with the threat of a fresh wave of misery. "I-isn't there... can't I... do something else? Anything...? Anything...!" He couldn't bear it, the knowledge of what a disgraceful, ungrateful cur he was being, refusing her when his balls were still twitching against her plump cheeks.

Another sigh, but this one brisk and thoughtful. He managed to peek up at her, struggling to blink one eye clear. She was smiling, brow furrowed in sadness, or sympathy. She looked down, to where his pail nestled against her. "...Are you done with that...?"

He blinked, and his ears dropped, ashamed to even be holding the thing. He hefted the sloshing container and tried to lean over, but the conveyor was too far away, bound together as they were. She sighed softly, and with a warm ripple, suddenly he slid free of her with a gasp, her leg finally coming loose. He very nearly fell and lost the whole bounty, but he managed to just barely keep his stumbling feet under him, finding the world a strange and heavy place away from her. He panted, feeling the depraved wretch as he scampered to the conveyor and practically tossed the bucket on the belt. He turned to the other, rushing past his Mother, and he swatted the bucket off the belt, letting it clatter noisily across the floor and knock over some of the candles. Finally he swayed and stumbled back to her, collapsing to his knees before the goddess.

She smiled softly down upon him. "Salem..."

"Yes, Mother!" He breathed, gripping his knees.

"Salem... did you enjoy yourself within me?"

He shuddered, and his eyes watered, but he swallowed the lump in his throat, back bristling as he answered, "yes, Mother! You are... the most amazing--"

"Salem..." Her eyes were just a hint sad. "Would you like to make Mother feel good?"

His mouth split wide, struggling not to utter a cry of dismay as his spent, knotted shaft rested cold upon the floor. "Y-yes, Mother! Please! How!"

She stepped, and she stepped again, spreading those lush, dark thighs, baring her honey-gilded blossom to him once more. It was immaculate. "Salem... would you like to be with me... forever?"

His mouth opened, and it hung that way as his eyes traveled from hers, down her plump, white-and-black breasts, her warm belly, down to the holy site she bore. His mind was beginning to pound again, as it had when he was in her, when he'd wanted so desperately to get just... a little... deeper. He was shuffling, dragging himself across the floor, timidly approaching.

The warm smile, the simmering hunger, the airy excitement, it all shone through in her final words to him: "Return to me, my son."

Her scent was still pure, the raw musk of that wondrous place, the place where no thundering power in this world could hurt him, the origin, the beginning, and that which he'd always quietly sought, his ultimate destination. It filled him, thick in his nose, clouding up under his eyes as they rolled up and slid shut. He kissed to her, and warm, succulent lips kissed him back readily, drooling honey on his chin as he gripped slowly at her thighs. He'd known she was soft, softer than any solid thing could be, but just shoving his cock around in here hadn't done it justice. He nuzzled into her, and her lips split to kiss and suckle at his chin, his nose. He giggled faintly against her, rolling his head to let those warm juices roll down the back of his neck, and he found she sucked his ear right up, slowly squeezing and gently tugging at it if he let it get close.

He pulled his ear free with a shudder and broke contact for just a moment to pant out, though every breath still fogged his mind more than cleared it. Her juices were rolling down his back and chest, and they did not seem to cool. Inside, his mind thrummed. Inside... deeper... inside...

He nosed up into that sweet blossom, and her lips gently embraced his muzzle. He pressed his lips to her very inner portal, to the tiny slit buried within that delicate, pink ruffle, her true entrance. He kissed to her, and she kissed back, and he found his tongue dipping into her, which she pulled and milked at as readily as every other part of him. Her taste here was not that of wisdom or joy, but of something more primal. Energy. Creation. The spark that begins all things, that already began all things. His beginning was spread across his taste buds, digging at them, massaging them. His head twisted slowly, to press the kiss deeper, and she suckled on his lower lip, and his chin, and his nose. She accepted his muzzle, slowly enfolding his parted, silently moaning mouth into divinity.

Her lips nestled to his eyes, and he needed no last glimpse of this world. He snuggled up into her, and warm darkness surged over him. His ears folded back quietly, and her shaky panting, her soft moans and coos, the slurp of juices and flesh swelled into the heavy rumble of the body: those very same moans, suddenly amplified into a chorus of one, surrounding him utterly, the low creak and gurgle of life rolling over his brow, and behind it all, the steady, emphatic beat of the heart, the endless rhythm of life-- right now, thumping away merrily. She was enjoying him.

Warmth slid firm round his neck, a welcome collar. He paused just a moment here. Something was seeping through him. It hadn't come on as suddenly as before, but he had the vague sense that the world, as a whole, was drawing a little closer to him even as he retreated from it.

He leaned up, and her sincere moans embraced him as her flesh spread to embrace his shoulders, first one, then the other. His fingers dug at her thighs, struggling to steady himself as he pushed up onto one foot. Something firm nestled to his head, and he nuzzled into it, turning his nose to meet it. A barrier, but centered on a tiny gateway. He kissed around it, and lapped over it, and it puckered slowly at him before slowly spreading. He nosed in at it timidly, and it stretched slowly to swallow his muzzle, straining ever so slowly wider still as he wriggled and pressed his head through. He was faintly aware that he was steel hard below, his shaft twitching and nodding eagerly, drooling on the floor between the goddess' heels as he eased her cervix open.

Within... Heat. He faintly thought he should have been burned-- it was sweltering, and his cheek tingled where it pressed to-- was this a wall? It flowed like water, yet clung to him in welcome. His head finally thrust through fully, and he almost thought it would flow right into his open mouth. Instead, he was filled with her overflowing honey, his senses inundated. His eyes drifted open, though he saw nothing, but his retinas tingled in the heat.

His paws finally dragged free of her thighs, and drew up, disappearing into her sex as her lips sank firmly down to the narrow of his waist. His shoulders only had to work and flex against that powerful ring a few moments to slide through, and in a moment, he stood fully, legs aching, pressing his desperate arousal to the heavy plush of her rear, and for a moment he nestled in tight between her cheeks, which opened to him as readily as every other part of her. He pulsed, staining that lush hide with pre as he dragged his arms up, working one through that tight ring, then the other. He hugged himself, arching to press his head taut to the straining, flowing walls of her womb, moaning silence in answer to the constant, ecstatic cries she wrapped around him.

He barely had to wonder what he should do now before the answer came. When it was clear he could push himself no further, her inner walls began to flex and roll, massaging at him, kneading deep into his every muscle, and slowly, she pulled at him. His chest was encased in that powerful grip, and she pulled his spine taut, straightening every kink he'd never known he'd had, digging into his muscles with a powerful, relentless touch that was still gentle and flowing as the summer tide. And his heels began to lift.

For a moment he was ground ferociously between her cheeks, his knot giving an eager throb of fresh life, before his shaft was pulled out of it entirely, drawn up into her-- by that fat knot first. He moaned out helplessly as she swallowed his knot and slowly worked down his shaft, warmth gradually enveloping his rear as his tail was trapped snug between his legs. His arousal pulsed fervently as it was eaten up in reverse, until the tip finally disappeared inside her, his thighs embraced firmly by her hungry lips. But that was only the beginning.

Squirming and crying out in silence, the young canine helplessly bred his Mother's tight passage twice as her powerful walls massaged tirelessly over every inch of him again and again, kneading tight at his rear, slurping at his knotted shaft, dragging him inexorably up into the welcoming stretch of her womb. Even as he struggled to remain conscious under the relentless pleasure he was saddened when his shaft was finally drawn fully into her womb, only his feet dangling in the cruel cold of that outer world now. He was curling in on himself, eyes staring into the distance.

The world was small. This piece was next to this piece, and that one was next to this one, and then you were all the way around it already. And every blade of grass was here, and they all agreed, and all the other silly living things crawling across this or that, sleeping and eating and killing and loving. And there was still so much to come. So many pieces still waiting to fall into place. Couldn't they see? Why should they stop now? Why were they... breaking things, and... stopping... no! No! They couldn't stop her now! She still had to...!

His feet kicked a few times against her thighs, but the goddess cooed quietly and rolled her hips, firmly drawing them up with a barely audible slurp. A few churning moments of silence, and she sighed, reclining in her bonds.

~~~

M: And that's it. That's the show. Helluva job, huh?

E: Y... yeah... so, but... where'd he go? She's not even...

M: Mmm. Who knows. Nobody ever comes out again. But uh, hey, you've read the Book, yeah? What's it say happens when you die?

E: Well... you return to the Mother, and become part of that which is to come, I guess...

M: Yeah. I guess he found a shortcut. Or, uh... who knows, maybe guys like him are the only ones that make it back. You know?

E: ...

M: Well. That's the job. Press the shiny button to remind them to milk the cow steada fucking it. Seal the milk and put it to chill. Don't drink anything and try not to whack it till the show's over. Bathroom's second door down on the right, by the way.

E: Right. So, but... what do we actually do with...? I mean, we basically just paid with a life for a few gallons...

M: What do you think? Dirty old men like that iguana drink it. Keeps them alive-- and I mean really alive. The red light makes good money around here.

E: ...That's it? F-fountain of youth and viagra?

M: Well, you know, I guess they put a little of it toward like, disease and infertility and stuff. But near as I can tell, most of it is magical viagra, yeah.

E: But... he just...

M: Well... yeah. But... you know... I'd still do it.

E: What?

M: If they let me, I'd go in there. I've watched this go down, what, a hundred times. And you know what? They've all been happy. They've all gone willingly. I mean, I've seen what she does to a man. You could literally kill someone, walk right in there, and she'd forgive you. And you would just... be... clean. Even someone like me could be... good for something, you know? And shit, what a way to go. Assuming I could get a ride first, I mean. Well, maybe even without... I turned up the sound once, and I could hear this big tiger guy still purring in there for a good hour after. I don't know, man. It's... out of all the ways you could shuffle off this mortal coil, you know? I dunno if you could find anything --anything-- better than what he just got.

E: I... I guess...

M: Well, I should stop corrupting you. You've got months to watch her do her thing, huh? Come on. I've gotta go pick up my paycheck, and I'm thinking a big party. Gonna drink till I can't remember what I'm leaving behind. You should come along, you can hold my hair up at the toilet.

E: You make a lot of friends, don't you.

M: Oh, don't worry. You won't be seeing me again after this.