Among the variety of cephalopods in the Eroticus family, the Speckled Purple Milker’s method of attack is not fully understood. Additionally, the monster is so reclusive and secretive that even its victims are frequently unable to describe it. Nevertheless, some victims may recall seeing a speckled purple sweater, coat or dress in their closet, chest of drawers, or trunk. The closet is the monster’s ready-made enclave, unlikely to be witnessed and the victim, once immobilized, can be carefully inseminated. Even without a sighting, however, the astute researcher will often recognize the same patterns in the toxin-induced delirium.
The hallmarks of the speckled purple’s attack generally involve forced lactation, anal penetration and forced impregnation. Victims will frequently cite abduction scenarios involving aliens, feelings of disembodiment, and disorientation. This delirium, however, has a psychological component that may vary according to the individual. Since the attack of the Speckled Purple Milker has never been witnessed, a transcript of an interview may suffice to capture some of the salient, telltale signs of it’s attack.
Interviewer: Can you describe again what happened in the moments before the abduction.
Female: I was going through my closet.
Interviewer: And there was nothing unusual?
Female: [The subject pauses.] Well, no. Like I said, I was going through the closet, thinking I should probably throw some old clothes out; and I see this ratty, purple sweater—like an old wool sweater.
Interviewer: Did you try to throw it out?
Female: I had it in my hands.
Interviewer: And then what?
Female: I just— I remember— Soon as I touched the sweater it had all these arms. There was one behind my neck, one at the small of my back, and then one in my mouth and down my throat. I was swallowing and then I just sort of went boneless. Next thing I know there were these dairy men standing over me. Each had a crate of empty milk bottles.
Interviewer: Do you remember what they looked like?
Female:Just that they were all wearing purple ovralls
Interviewer: And you say they abducted you?
Female: I don’t remember. I think— One of them pulled this huge syringe out of his overalls. It was huge, curved and shaped like an erection. It was full of something like a thick milk. Soon as I saw it I started panicking but I couldn’t move. One of them turned me over so that I was on my knees and with my head down. Then the one behind me rubs in some oil or lotion. Next thing he’s pushing the syringe into me. It won’t go at first. ‘Just relax, sugar,’ he says. I can’t even talk. I’m panting. I’m trying and suddenly all I can do is groan. ‘Good girl,’ he says sliding and sliding it into me. God, I didn’t know anything could go that deep. My tongue pops out of my mouth. Then he starts pushing the contents of the syringe into me and it’s like my eyes roll into the back of my head. It warm and it’s like it’s going straight to my boobs at tits. The more he injects in me, the bigger my boobs and nipples get.
Interviewer: Did that hurt?
Female: You’d think it would, but it was more like I just needed to be sucked and fucked—my nipples and clit super swollen and sensitive. The numbness in my arms and legs was going away but it’s not like I needed to be held down. I got on my hands and knees but I couldn’t have stood if I’d wanted to. My tits were huge and heavy. They were leaking and my cunt was dripping. The dairyman was still pushing more of the syringe’s into me from behind, but it wasn’t like I was trying to get away. I was grunting and arching. “Look at that bitch present,” he said. “She’s good and ready,” said the other one. “That cunt’s as hot, swollen, and juicy as I’ve seen and desperately wantin’ a load of spunk to fill it up.”
Interviewer: If I may ask: Had you had fantasies like these before you were attacked by the Speckled Purple Milker?
Female: Oh God yes. I’d always had “dairy” [makes air-quotes] fantasies. You know, the whole nine yards: cowgirl, milking, insemination. Everybody’s got their little fetish, right?
Interviewer: So once the Purple Milker’s aphrodesial venom took effect, you didn’t fight it at all?
Female: No. [She shakes her head and bites her lip.]
Interviewer: Then what happened?
Female: It was just like in my fantasies. They tied my arms behind my back, wrists to elbows and bent me over a bar to restrain me and lift my cunt. And then, just like in my fantasies, they brought in a huge minotaur. Fuck. It’s cock was gigantic with a head like a black spade. There was already cum dripping down the underside, glistening in its balls. They fastened a spreader bar to my knees and pulled out the syringe. They did it slowly, so slowly, like they wanted to make sure nothing spilled out of me. I might have squirted when it finally slipped out of me. I was ready to orgasm. They attached milkers to my tits and, fuck, it was a huge relief when the milk started to flow. But even that wasn’t enough. They replaced the syringe with an anal hook tied to my hair. It lifted my cunt higher and drew back my head. “She’s good and ready,” said one of the dairymen. “Stick out your tongue honey. You wanna’ a taste of what’s goin’ up your pussy?”
Interviewer: What was the milking like?
Female: I just remember they looked like speckled, purple hoses with suction cups on the end.
Interviewer: Did you hear a machine?
Female: Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn’t. It was whatever I imagined. I was in a drugged haze. I was so fucking desperate to be used, to have an orgasm, to have a cock come inside me. I was utterly female. I was being milked and so needing a cock. When they asked if I wanted to taste, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue. They brought over the Minotaur. He was wearing an iron collar and the beast’s wrists were chained behind his back. He looked muscular enough to break the chains but if he had I wouldn’t have cared. When they held the end of his cock over my tongue semen dribbled out in a thick stream, filled my mouth, slipped down my chin and throat, and between my breasts. I swallowed. I licked the air trying to catch more. But my mouth isn’t where I wanted it. My pussy couldn’t have been readier. “You just concentrate on the milking,” they said. “And the Minotaur will take care o’ you from behind.”
Interviewer: You weren’t frightened by it?
Female: Oh God yes. Both. Fear and arousal. The beast, masculine lust and force, if you know what I mean. [She crosses her legs and rubs her haunches.] He terrified me. Totally terrified me. But there was nothing I could do. Fuck. I was on my knees being milked. I was totally at his mercy. For a woman, for me, that’s dark fantasy I want and can’t admit to wanting—to be fucked for having the cunt and for no other reason. There’s always that one night that’s just the right temperature. There’s the lover who’s cock is just right. He has you on your knees, ass up, face down. He doesn’t touch you. You close your eyes. Your arms and hands are stretched in front of you and there’s only the motion of a cock that moves in and out of you—you—so slow and so steady—like waves, day and night, or a heartbeat. You get lost. You dream. This cock doesn’t belong to a man. This cock is the universe itself making love to you and the universe is remaking itself inside you. And you’re the universal female. And when you come, and when you feel the universe pulsing inside your orgasm, it’s as if you were filled with and contained in your womb every future galaxy and star wanting to be born.
Female: Penetrated and so fucking powerful.
Interviewer: You never worried it might not be real?
Female: I didn’t care. If I’d thought about it, I wouldn’t have cared. The experience was real. Soon as I tried to turn my head, the hook lifted my ass and made me feet curl. The Minotaur moved behind me and the floor shook with his weight. I was making little panting, wheezy, crying noises. I was so fucking ready. My nipples were dribbling and spurting and when he pushed his cock into me I came, dripping a little stream between my knees. It was like he pushed all the juice out of my womb to make room for his. Then he was fucking me. I was crying, screaming, grunting with each thrust. God did it feel good. The spurts of milk from my nipples, my heartbeat, his thrusts, were all in sync. I was being milked, inseminated and impregnated. When I came the third time he was pulsing inside me. Fuck. He just kept coming and I could feel my belly getting bigger and heavier after each spurt. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t stop it. My eyes rolled and I started to black out. I was helpless and so fucking full of come.
Interviewer: Did you black out?
Female: I must have.
Interviewer: What happened.
Female: Next thing a knew I woke up at the foot of my bed. I had a carpet imprint on my cheek and I was drooling. My breasts weren’t as big but they were still sensitive—in a good way. And my womb felt full and round. It was warm under, feeling it.
Interviewer: After one night?
Female: Yeah, that freaked me out until I remembered what had happened.
Interviewer: You gave birth 9 months later?
Female: A baby boy. [She bites her lip.] He’s got some the monster in him. His little fingers are in everything and everywhere and he can’t get enough mommy’s milk.
From this interview the astute researcher will immediately recognize elements that are common to all Speckled Purple Milker attacks. Note the recurrence of purple colors. Note also the method of attack. A quick strike causes the victim to swallow a disorienting and immobilizing neuro-toxin. This is followed by a delirium in which the victim, depending on her predilections, will be excited by a variety of erotic fantasies. This initial attack is followed by another in which a cocktail of hormones is injected, via the anus, directly into the victim’s digestive tract. The fast-acting cocktail of hormones induces sudden and profound lactation having, as a side-effect, extreme arousal. The victim is ready and prepared for insemination. The reason of the lactation is unclear, but researchers believe the milk is used to replenish the cephalopod’s own fluids.
As with all children born to human/cephalopod contact, the parent should expect a messy child, easily distracted, a publicity seeker, prone to tantrums, delusions of grandeur, and limitless greed interspersed with utterly disarming cuteness. The parent should remain alert. The child’s inner monster will readily assert itself without an attentive caregiver. Further complications generally ensue when the child reaches adolescence and adulthood. The parent will note that the opposite sex is often exceedingly attracted to the grown-child’s inner monster.
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