Stay and play PS6

The PS6 is connected to the Empire's internet and there’s several dozen thousand people playing the only game loaded onto the system, World War Futa 2: Long Live the Empire. I played the first game’s demo, it was the only version available outside the empire. A pretty good game actually. Certainly the best game I've ever played that was just a propaganda piece. After a couple hours on WWF2, which blows all other games out of the water, my stomach growls, asking for more nourishment. Instinctively, I pour some Lucky Charms, then turn to the refrigerator. Shit.

What the fuck am I going to do? Not eat? Maybe I could just eat the cereal dry. I pull the milk out and check the label. Grade A Whole Milk. The end. No ingredients, no source, nothing._ _‘Fucking dumb. Like taking the ingredients list off the package changes what it is.’ Ben’s words echo in my mind. I look over at my beloved Lucky Charms and turn the box to the side.

Nothing.

Did that mean Lucky was tainted? No. Maybe they just removed all the nutrition labels for some reason. Maybe that’s Empire law or something. I swallow a mouthful of the futa milk before I even realize I’m drinking it. Worse, I don’t stop. My tongue forces my hands to keep the jug tilted as I down several more swallows.

I finally pull away when the jug is nearly empty. “Fuck me,” I groan.

“Were you expecting us?”

My head snaps to see two futa standing just inside my doorway. The shorter one is dressed like a secretary in a porno, black pencil skirt, white blouse wrapped tightly around a large chest, five or maybe even six inch black heels with her red toenails poking out. Her auburn hair is tied in a tight ponytail and her dark brown eyes regard me behind a pair of useless glasses. Futa’s don’t have vision issues. They don’t have any fucking issues.

The other futa, almost a full head taller, makes my butthole clench. She’s the woman in the third painting. Her red hair isn’t natural like it looked in the painting as tiny black roots give it away. The massive curls are tied up from the sides of her head to the top to give the impression of a wild mohawk. As she saunters in, her loose white skirt flows around her ample hips and long legs, revealing cork sandal pumps, giving her an extra two inches or three. Her spaghetti strap top says ‘Mommy Milkers’ across the front. Her dark green eyes appraise me like I’m a new pair of pants she can’t wait to see on herself.

“I— I— Um.” My brain doesn’t seem to want to work as panic sinks in.

“Come here,” the woman from the painting says.

I quickly obey, not wanting to fuck up and get on my first day. I have to make it through a month somehow and I already have futa breaking into my apartment.

I stand in front of her and she grabs my chin to tilt my face from side to side. She grabs my arm and spins me around. She pulls me off balance and her free hand grabs my ass between my legs, her fingers and nails digging into my clenched hole.

“Good. Mark him as a one. Tell me boy, do you know who I am?”

I shake my head as my throat begs for milk to cure the painfully dry cracks that are forming.

“I am Madam Aubrey. I take it you know what a Madam is.”

I nod. I’d read about the Empresses family members that ruled the cities and the territories inside. A Madam is responsible for a school, a large business, or in this case, a housing district.

“Good.” She smiles at me and then reaches down to take the empty jug from my hand. “You like your milk, don’t you?”

I nod as saliva floods my mouth.

She pouts her face in feigned sadness as she waves the jug. “Looks like you’re all out. Would you like Momma to give you some more?”

My jaw drops as realization set in and my eyes move to her massive tits. ‘Mommy Milkers.’

She pulls her shirt down, exposing one of her large, heavy breasts. Her areola is a beautiful light pink. Her finger swipes the drool from the side of my mouth and wets her nipple.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me for it?”

I studder a few syllables before I out, “I’d like more milk, please.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute. A really baby boy. So naïve and inexperienced.” She strokes my face with the back of her fingers. “Ask Mommy for her milk.”