Suckle

forest-bound woman with swollen breasts and fat sex. the small animals come to feed and suckle at her teat, her milk a terrible production, only good for orphans.

greeted by uncouth homonculus, he pushes the animals out of the way and attempts to feed, but slips off, dead momma wearing a heavy honeyed lacquer of sweat and an old memory of florida. skin sticky, sickly, sweet, the animals take on the teated treat.

the man takes on the fat sex, and greedily consumes her silence. he misses, clumsy and unaware, rubs himself into the lacquer with a fantasy. her lingering humidity eats through his semen, and she sends him away, wanting only scentless ghost.

breasts grow heavy, skin stretching. it hurts. it hurts when they eat. it hurts when they stop. bosom outweighs heart.

feverish, she's unable to move, anchored by the weight of her breasts and orphan animals. accepting her fate with a small pop, she sighs in relief, gushing out. the tendrils of her forest enshroud her form, and she becomes one with the earth, odd forked river, water milky white and sweet.

the animals, frightened, leave.