Chapter 12: Lactation Revelation Part 2
The hum of Destiny’s computer was the only sound in her blue-walled sanctuary, a steady, rational whir that usually grounded her. Tonight, it felt flimsy, a pathetic defense against the memory of her brother’s shattered expression as he’d stormed out hours ago. Something had happened with their mother. Something that hadn’t ended with just a slammed door.
A soft knock fractured her concentration.
“Destiny, honey? Can I come in?” Mildred’s voice was syrup-sweet through the wood.
Destiny minimized her code editor. “It’s open.”
Her mother glided in, a vision in emerald silk pajamas, holding two glasses of white wine. The scent of expensive chardonnay and her heavy jasmine perfume filled the room, clashing with the smell of old pizza and electronics. “I thought you might need a drink after all that… unpleasantness with your brother.”
“I’m fine,” Destiny said, her eyes narrowing at the offered glass.
“Oh, don’t be so stubborn. It’s a good vintage.” Mildred pressed the cool glass into her hand, her fingers lingering for a moment too long. “We should talk. You’ve been so distant since you moved back.”
Destiny relented, taking a grudging sip. The wine was crisp, colder than she expected, with a faint, almost metallic aftertaste she chalked up to a cheap bottle. “What’s there to talk about? Sid’s having a meltdown. You’re… being you. It’s a whole vibe.”
Mildred sat on the edge of the unmade bed, smoothing the silk over her substantial hips. “It’s more than that. I worry about you, buried in this room all day. A beautiful girl like you… no social life, no… partners.” She took a delicate sip, her eyes watching Destiny over the rim. “You never bring anyone home. Not even for coffee.”
“Maybe I don’t want to bring anyone into this… atmosphere.” Destiny took another, larger gulp of wine. A strange warmth was starting to spread through her chest, a loosening in her joints that felt both pleasant and alarming.
“Or maybe,” Mildred said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you’re just looking in the wrong places.” She leaned forward, the neck of her pajamas gaping. “I saw the history on the living room tablet. ‘Carmilla’? Really, darling? So nineteenth-century.”
Destiny froze, the glass halfway to her lips. A hot flush crept up her neck. “That was for a project.”
“Of course it was.” Mildred’s smile was a razor blade. “We all have our projects.” She set her own glass down and reached for the lacquered box on Destiny’s nightstand, the one that held her collection of tech and a few personal items. “But sometimes, a project needs the right tools.”
“Don’t,” Destiny snapped, but her voice lacked its usual bite. The room was beginning to tilt, just slightly. The vibrant blue walls seemed to pulse.
Mildred ignored her, opening the box. She pushed aside a tangled nest of charging cables and picked up Destiny’s simple, silicone vibrator. “Adequate,” she pronounced, turning it over in her hand like a piece of faulty machinery. “But so… impersonal.” She set it down and produced from the pocket of her pajamas a longer, more sinister-looking device, sleek and obsidian black with a distinct, curved tip.
“What are you doing?” Destiny’s words felt thick in her mouth. The metallic taste was back, coating her tongue.
“Expanding your education.” Mildred clicked a button on the base of the black device. A low, resonant thrum filled the space between them. “A woman should know her own architecture. Inside and out.”
With a disturbing casualness, Mildred leaned back against Destiny’s rumpled pillows, hiking up her silk pajama bottoms. She held Destiny’s gaze, her expression one of cool demonstration, as she guided the humming tip beneath her own waistband. Her breath hitched, just a little. Her eyes fluttered closed for a second, then opened, sharp and focused on her daughter.
“See?” Mildred’s voice was a little breathless. “The g-spot isn’t a myth. It’s just… geography. You have to know how to read the map.”
Destiny tried to stand, to yell, to throw her wine in her mother’s face, but her limbs were leaden. She could only watch, hypnotized by the subtle movement of her mother’s wrist, the way her body shifted minutely against the sheets. The thrumming sound was inside her own head now, a dizzying buzz.
After a minute, Mildred withdrew the device with a soft, slick sound. She didn’t turn it off. Still holding Destiny’s horrified gaze, she brought her fingers to her mouth, tasting them with a thoughtful expression.
“Your turn,” she said softly, rising from the bed. The obsidian wand hummed in her hand like a trapped insect.
“No.” The word was a weak puff of air. Destiny tried to scramble back, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. The world had softened at the edges, everything blurring except for her mother’s approaching form.
Mildred sat on the edge of the desk chair, rolling it closer. “Shhh. It’s just physics. Biology.” She reached out with her free hand, the one that was still slick, and brushed a strand of hair from Destiny’s forehead. The touch was intimate, possessive. The scent of jasmine and something else, something musky and primal, was overwhelming.
“You can’t code your way out of everything, darling,” Mildred whispered, her breath hot against Destiny’s ear. “Some systems require a hands-on approach.”
The humming tip of the vibrator touched the bare skin of Destiny’s thigh, just above the knee. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through her. It wasn't pleasure. It wasn't pain. It was a violation so complete her drugged mind could only short-circuit, registering the sensation as a catastrophic system error.
Her body arched, a spasm of pure, uncomprehending shock. A sound escaped her, a choked gasp that was half-sob, half-moan.
Mildred smiled, a real, genuine smile of profound satisfaction. She moved the device higher.
“There now,” she cooed. “Let’s see what we can debug.”
The humming wand traced a slow, deliberate path up her inner thigh, a scientist probing unknown territory. Destiny’s head lolled back against her chair, every muscle taut with a resistance her chemically-slackened body could not execute. A thin, desperate sound leaked from her throat, which her mother mistook for encouragement.
“See? The body doesn’t lie,” Mildred murmured, her voice clinical. “Even when the mind is being stubborn.”
She placed the device on various parts of Destiny's womanhood. The resonant buzz vibrated against the coarse hair of her mound, then the softer skin of her outer lips, each location a different, unwelcome shock to her system. Destiny flinched with each movement, a puppet twitching on strings held by a careless master.
“Point,” Mildred instructed, her tone shifting from demonstrative to demanding. “Show me the most sensitive spot.”
Destiny’s hand trembled as she raised it, her finger hovering over the general area. She pointed vaguely, hoping to end the torment, to satisfy the bizarre quiz. “There,” she slurred.
Mildred’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice a low purr. “Precision is everything. You of all people should know that.” She moved the device slightly. “Here?”
Destiny whimpered, the sound swallowed by the hum. She nodded, a frantic, jerky motion.
Mildred asked several times if Destiny was sure, her voice a relentless, soothing pressure. “Absolutely certain, darling? You don’t want to make a error in your data.” Each repetition felt like a needle, sewing her into this nightmare.
With a final, confirming nod from Destiny, Mildred set the humming wand aside on the desk. Its sound was suddenly absent, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. Then she leaned forward, her jasmine perfume engulfing Destiny completely, and clamped her lips around that point.
The world dissolved into a silent scream. Destiny’s back arched violently, her fingers digging into the armrests of her chair. It was not a kiss; it was a claiming, a searing brand of ownership that short-circuited the last of her coherent thought. Mildred’s mouth was relentless, a practiced, suffocating pressure that sought to draw out not pleasure, but submission.
A single, hot tear escaped the corner of Destiny’s eye, tracing a path through the sweat on her temple. Mildred finally pulled back, her lips glistening, her expression one of profound, unsettling triumph. She looked at her daughter’s broken form, at the tear she did not bother to wipe away.
“There,” she whispered, her breath warm against Destiny’s damp skin. “Now you know what the hardware is truly capable of.”
Mildred leaned back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as if she’d just finished a rich dessert. She watched the single tear track through the sweat on Destiny’s temple, a tiny victory flag planted in conquered territory.
Destiny’s body felt like it belonged to someone else, a puppet with its strings cut. The drug’s haze was receding, leaving behind the raw, screaming data of what had just happened. She shuddered, a full-body flinch that rattled the chair. Her mother’s jasmine perfume was now a poison in the air, suffocating.
“Nobody’s…” Destiny squeaked, her voice raspy and small. She stared at the vibrant blue wall, the color now seeming garish and false. “Who will I find that can top that?”
Mildred’s thoughts were indignantly practical. Everyone, she thought. A college boy with enthusiasm, a experienced woman with patience, literally anyone who isn't your mother. But this wasn't about truth, but power, so Mildred lied.
“No one, darling,” she said, her voice soft and impossibly cruel. She reached out and gently tucked Destiny’s hair behind her ear, her touch making Destiny flinch. “That’s what I’ve been trying to show you. Why settle for clumsy amateurs when you’ve experienced a master?”
She stood, straightening her silk pajamas as if leaving a business meeting. The obsidian vibrator lay on the desk beside a half-finished can of energy drink, a bizarre still life of violation. “The world is full of people who will disappoint you. I never will.”
Mildred paused at the door, a silhouette against the bright hallway light. “Get some rest. We’ll talk more in the morning about your… career prospects.” The door clicked shut, leaving Destiny alone in the humming silence.
Destiny’s hand trembled as she brought it to her mouth. She could still taste the metallic ghost of the wine, and underneath it, something else. Something salty. Her own body, sampled and judged. She pushed herself up, her legs buckling, and stumbled to her bed, collapsing into the tangled sheets that still smelled of her mother.
She curled into a tight ball, the memory of that resonant hum now a permanent frequency in her bones. Outside, a car door slammed, a normal sound from a normal world that no longer included her. She pressed her face into the pillow, the question echoing in the dark, a trap she had already sprung. Who will I find that can top that? The answer, a lie, was the only thing holding her together.