Merry Chistmas! #LPRTG #EARTG #SMUTPUNK || MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 4 BY MOCTEZUMA JOHNSON

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 4

BY MOCTEZUMA JOHNSON

Natasha took home the baby-yeti. Vlad did too, but these decisions are ultimately up to the woman and the man, while able to interject his views here and there, is essentially just a passenger along the ride, much the way Rhode Island is to the US presidential elections thanks to the electoral college. They got the baby yeti home and Vlad went out to the local shops and got a child’s bed, he was already so goddamn big, and packed the car full of formula. This boy could drink! Wow!

At first baby yeti was okay. Natasha was hopeful that she could mother him. Her and Vlad were a family. They were equipped. Natasha, however, had lost her best friend again. She wasn’t gone. But she was in a coma in Brighton General. Perhaps, part of Natasha resented the baby yeti. Or maybe it was just physical. She had no milk to give the yeti. So what use was she?

As the days passed the yeti grew in stature and he grew restless. Vlad went out for more formula every day. Every day he packed the car with formula, goat milk, horse milk. He was on the black markets online, the ones on 86th street, searching the black milky markets for more milk. He was quickly dubbed The Milkman by the local vendors, a pretty swarmy group.

None of it was enough. And none of it seemed right. The yeti always looked unsatisfied. It was like, Vlad thought, he had a special milk that he needed and none of what Vlad was providing was correct. Occasionally, after feeding on seventeen bottles at once the yeti would bang his big furry hand on his bed and Vlad would again get the drill and re-attach it. Vlad felt bad for the yeti. The yeti was grossly out of his element.

He also realized that the yeti was half human but the yetiness of the yeti was so dominant that it was hard to not consider him fully yeti. This was making raising a yeti in a human home difficult. Also, humans grow so slowly compared to just about any creature in the animal kingdom. This yeti growing fast. He was already walking. He was already getting into trouble. He had knocked down the TV, upturned the fridge, pulled the sink out of the socket, eaten the shower-head, and walked through a wall from the parlor room to the bedroom. Vlad reinstalled a shower-head, re-caulked the sink, put the TV back, but just left the hole in the wall.

Vlad knew he had to do something.

On a beautiful fall night, Vlad snuck into Lena’s hospital room. She looked like Snow White laying there (think more Bella Swann’s version than Disney’s, please). Even reclining and comatose, Lena’s tits were fucking humongous. He was all alone in this part of the hospital. There was only one guy working the wing and he was way down the corridor. Vlad lifted up her hospital gown and let her titties breath the crisp fall air. He’d rarely seen Lena’s nipples so soft. They were exquisite. She got turned on easily and usually he saw her nipples in states between hard and neutral. They were completely down, like a pat of putter melting into a pancake. He allowed himself to touch one. He rubbed it. Sure enough it got hard. Not very hard, more like neutral. But it responded to his touch. He let himself suck on it, he sucked until a squirt of milk shot into his mouth. He was rock hard. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t resist. He straddled his comatose ex-wife and proceeded to use her tits to pleasure his big Russian dick. It was utter joy! He was titty fucking a sleeping goddess. Her breasts were filled with milk, he could feel it, and better than ever. He was at the brink. He shot a creamy load of cum into the ravine between her massive juggs. Then he unpacked the milking paraphernalia he brought in and proceeded to milk his ex-wife’s tits. He filled up a few bottles, but then her tits went dry. It wasn’t nearly enough but at least it was the yeti’s mother’s milk. Maybe this would satisfy the young cub.

In their apartment, Vlad fed the young yeti cub his mama’s milk. This worked. He rested peacefully after draining the bottles. But when he woke, he wanted more and there was no more.

The Yeti-tantrum turned the 4-level brownstone they lived in into a pile of rocks within minutes. The neighbors ran to the street when they heard the earthquake taking place. The street was a nightmare. Women were screaming, crying, sirens were wailing. The fire department was on its way. Vlad, Natasha, and the yeti would have all been captured or killed if it wasn’t for the sudden appearance of a weird craft on the street. It came in fast, pogoing on a big barnacled stick. That’s right, it jumped in on part of this guy’s massive anatomy, his cock. And it came in so hot (fast) that the crowd parted in fear, awe, and a considerable amount of jealousy and stereotype-busting. It was Barnacle Man! The little Asian with the massive dick!

“Look, it’s Jack Lee.”

Jack Li/Barnacle Man arrived on his hovercraft which wasn’t exactly a hovercraft because it bounced rather than hovered. It bounced on his massive, hard dick. He came to a stop near the yeti-infant. “My name is Jack Li, not Jack Lee.”

The crowd murmured in confusion, his name is what not what? Aren’t they the same? Is Jack Li/Lee okay? Holy shit is his cock massive! Who cares about his name!

Barnacle Man harpooned the baby yeti and shackled him to a seat on the craft. Vlad and Natasha took human seats and fastened harnesses. They pogo’d off to Brighton General where Barnacle Man expertly took Lena and her coma-keeping life-support machines into the craft.

They headed to the bay and entered the water. The cock-pogo turned into a rudder and they were off to travel back across the planet.

$.

End Act 2

[Intermission – take a piss, have a smoke, get a quickie]

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 5

Preview of Part 5

In Nepal, things were chill for a few months. Mike the Yeti fucked his wife, sucked on her tits, and was generally calm, and even happy. He still yearned for Lena’s Russian goodness but was content enough to love the one he was with.

He waited for his yeti-wife to get pregnant and start producing milk. He hadn’t visited his milking station since his return to the Himalayas.

He went for the first time and found some of Lena’s tattered clothes. It was a ripped plaid button down shirt. He used the torn shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes. Then he stomped down to the village and mauled a bunch of Sherpas. He ripped some from limb to limb. He bashed the heads of some into each other cracking both their skulls and leaking their Asian brains onto the snow. He disemboweled others. After he killed them, he placed them on the snow. He worked very diligently and delicately with the dead, maimed Sherpas. It was the worst Yeti-massacre in human history. He finished placing the dead bodies. He wipes his eyes again with Lena’s Swiss-cheesed, old shirt. He could smell her glorious lactation. He growled. The thunder of his growl exploded through Nepal. He looked down at the strewn bodies. They formed the perfect image of Lena’s gorgeous Russian tits.

(to be continued)

(hate waiting? don’t worry! A new one comes out EVERY day!)

Merry XXXmas, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 3

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 3

by Moctezuma Johnson

The Doctor, a Belarusian with a cool demeanor, knew something was way off. Even with a body that produced Lena’s eggplant-sized tits, her frame was too small for her current weight. It was unnatural. The baby was not going to come out. There was no way. The Doctor made the choice.

Lena was drugged and prepped for surgery. There was an IV, a breathing mask, many machines, nurses, and hands moving all over her. The room was sterile and white. It was not a warm place. It was a hospital. They cut her front from her hip bone to hip bone basically opening up her entire reproductive area, the incision went all the way up toward her sternum. Natasha was terrified outside. She gripped Vlad’s hand so hard that she peeled skin off of him. The pitch in the operating room was frenetic. Then they say the baby-yeti inside the poor Russian woman’s body. The doctor birthed him. There was the cry identical to a human baby. Natasha relaxed her skin-ripping grip on her husband. There was a growl. Her nails dug into him enough that blood trickled down his sleeve. Inside the operating room was abject silence.

Sometimes in life, things that aren’t really supposed to happen do take place. There are black swans. Market crashes, wars, infant deaths all take our small human brains by surprise. When a Belarusian Doctor stands in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, wiping his glasses clean, and tucking in his button down shirt, he does not expect that his day will bring him into the unexpected. He’s trained for emergencies, but he’s not mentally preparing for one and that is a big difference. He wants to put his time in at the office, come back to his wife and kids, eat some samsa, play with the kids, put them to bed, make love to his wife, read a few paragraphs of the latest medical journal, and fall into a deep sleep. Unfortunately, the good doctor had different kind of day. He stood in the operating theater with his mouth wide open staring at a newborn yeti that he has just delivered. This newborn yeti could be considered a black swan. When the doctor was brushing his teeth this morning he had no thoughts of what to do in case of yeti so, as you can imagine, he was quite unprepared. “Take the…baby to the nursery. Get a bottle, ten bottles, in his mouth and keep him calm, nurse!” he barked at his head nurse, yes she gave him head in the supply closets now and then but cut the sniggering and focus on the catastrophe at hand. All things considered the doctor was doing pretty well in the face of a black swan of this magnitude. Another man would give in to the buckling knees and faint. Not Doctor Maxirov. He drank his vodka straight and could cowboy up in these situations whether prepared or not.

The doctor turned his attention back to the operating table. “She’s losing blood fast,” said the other nurse, the one with the very tight ass, but again that’s not the point. The doctor immediately started to stitch Lena back up and control the bleeding but it didn’t really work. I mean, a yeti, came out of her.

In the nursery the Yeti was calm sucking on seventeen bottles simultaneously. They were able to get his weight. He clocked in at 17 lbs. 8 ounces. The head nurse decided not to record this and swore all the orderlies to secrecy. Being a hot woman got them to acquiesce, at least for the moment. There were no photos taken, no tweets, no instagrams, no Facebook. The crappy WiFi that the government owned and operated hospital shot through the ether may be as responsible for the good behavior as common sense.

The doctor pushed down on her pelvis trying to force the body to start helping itself and get the bleeding down but it was a lost cause. Lena was losing blood and her heart was starting to go into cardiac arrest. They were able to avoid a massive heart attack but after all the screaming, fussing, medicating, and other doctor-stuff that I don’t really understand well took place, Lena’s brain was alive but her body was in a deep sleep.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, his hair in a mess, sweat dripping down his face, his lab coat smeared with blood, while taking Natasha’s hand for comfort. “While your friend is alive, she’s also in a coma.”

Natasha fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. “No!” she screamed in her shrill voice.

Vlad rubbed his wife’s shoulders and said, “She’s going to be okay.”

Natasha passed out. The nurses brought her smelling salts. They sat her in a chair in the waiting room. One of the orderlies brought her a chocolate ice cream. Natasha got up her gumption for the inevitable. Lena was her sister and there was no choice in the matter.

$.

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 4

*see comment below for my thoughts on writing this installment

 

Hey, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 2

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 2

by Moctezuma Johnson

The Yeti was okay in jail. He’d been in jails before. He spent time in a Nepalese jail for a while. He met Bruce Wayne there, incidentally. Big fan. Bruce of the fucking yeti, that is. He was also in a North Korean jail for a while when he was making crystal meth. Barnacle Man, employed by the Kim family in the 80s caught the fucking yeti, that was his fifth time, and then dragged his whining pink ass (yes like an baboon) to the great Democratic People’s Republic of Korea [조선민주주의인민공화국 (朝鮮民主主義人民共和國)] where he taught the locals to make meth so the north could claim an income stream and keep up with the South who were doing the same with the help of GIs in the occupying US military. Anyway, it’s all very political and you don’t care, just trust me on this one key point, Barnacle Man has been a fucking thorn in the side of the Yeti for hundreds of years now. Thus he cock-ruddered up to the HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI and kicked the white motherfucking yeti’s pink behind (yes we missed this detail in the first two segments of the YETI, oh well, dear reader. Great catch!). Now the Yeti was chill, cooperative, and all he asked for, this “Mike” the Yeti, was a psychologist. No that’s not exactly the right word, a marriage counselor. According to the Yeti, he wasn’t trying to kill and villagers from any village outside of the Himalayas (the Himalayan Beef you will have to allow him for it’s been an ongoing tit for tat for thousands of years now). The counselor sat on a frozen log outside the cage where the Yeti was shackled. The Yeti had both of his arms pinned to the wall with two u-shaped shackled held together by big thick clevis pins. He wasn’t going anywhere. The counselor listened, nodded, and ooccasionallyjotted down notes. They spoke in Nepali. The HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI had employees capable of speaking just about every language on the planet. The Yeti, Mike was saying, was simply in a bad marriage and there was just something about Lena. Those tits! Those tits! They were just so milky! He growled with passion, with hunger, with desperation. Please bring her to me. Conjugal visits. Lactational visits. The counselor said, “I’ll see what I can do about that,” and left the Yeti fettered to the wall.

Vlad, Natasha, and Lena flew to their new apartment in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn. They were free of the Yeti, leaving him chained to the wall.

“Come on, Lena, it’s been months. Forget about him already. Here give this waiter a blowjob already and move on. He keeps starting at your big, fat tits. Come on!”

Natasha mothered Lena a lot recently. Lena was despondent. Yeah, she could suck of the waiter, eat his cum, but it wouldn’t be any help. She’d still be dreaming of fucking Yeti. One more time in her life Lena realized she had fallen in love with the wrong Yeti.

On the Island, Yeti was making progress with the counselor. He never got any conjugal visits from Lena but they did bring the She-Yeti and it turns out that since he wanted more milk, he was pressuring the She-Yeti to get pregnant. She felt it was too much pressure and wanted him to quit his nagging. He needed to calm down about milk, she said. He’s fucking milk-obsessed. If he’d calm down I would conceive. I can’t conceive with all this pressure.

“I like Milk,” said the Yeti in Nepalese. “At least I know what I want.”He was thinking of big, Russian titties. Yum. Milky. Drippy. Satisfying. He nearly came just thinking about it. photo 4 (2)

The counselor left the Yeti’s and let them make love. Have you ever seen two Yeti’s going at it. Even when one is fettered to a wall, there is a lot of earth-shaking, avalanche-starting, and ear-drum rupturing. It was a great session. The she-yeti came with “Mike” holding her big Yeti ass up in the air and splitting her yeti-cunt in two. It was a brutal fucking. It let all the pent up resentment out. When he came he released all those bad feelings and actually felt calm again.

The counselor removed the clevis pins and allowed the Yetis to swim back to Nepal and live happily ever after. The cold slunk away, the snow turned into pretty lakes, rivers, and falls. The aquamarine returned to the island. The hotel mariachi came back out, pina coladas got poured, and hot girls in bikinis took to the pools again. Order was restored.

In Brighton Beach, Lena was sick to her stomach a lot and getting huge.

 

Stay Tuned for MILKED BY THE YETI, book 3, part 3

Very short Preview

Lena’s mind was still alive but body was laying there dead. Machines, beeped, breathed, and clicked.  She was hooked to all kinds of wires. The YETI stood over her. He sighed.

After ejaculation his eyes glowed luminously. The color of the antumbra was brilliant pink and it did something to Lena’s body.

 

Hey, #LPRTG #EARTG #MrBrtg – New Installment of MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 1

MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 1

by Moctezuma Johnson

Alright, fuckers. I ate some sushi, chatted with July about her character Violet for a bit, told Callie I’m going to start Yeti fucking book 3, and then sat down and let this tsunami out of me. I assume it’s complete crap. I shit it out fairly easily. I’m hoping the painkillers I’m taking for nasty back pain is making me better than my normal shitty self. Hope so! I’m looking for quality. I mean, it’s Milked by the Yeti, where the trailer is good enough for xvideos.com. Hot! Err, cold, when it comes to Yetis, or does it? Find out where Book 3 starts. Are we still in Nepal? You know I’m nothing if I’m not a sucker for turning conventions on their heads (fuck I would have thrown in a female Jedi by Empire Strikes Back if somebody handed me the keys to Star Wars) so now we have enough “Milked by the Yeti” to actually have conventions to deconstruct. So let’s put on our bathing suits and start Milked by the Yeti, Book 3. Excelsior! Thanks for turning down the TV and giving this baby your full attention.

$.

Milked by the Yeti, Book 3, Part 1

“Jump in the pool with me, baby!” Natasha was in the pool sipping on a Pina Colada. Her blonde hair was wet. She was beautiful in her skimpy bikini. She was young Russian and alive. She’d gotten her friend back from the Yeti, she’d seen Barnacle Man’s massive schlong and she was here with her new husband and her best friend. Yes, the best friend was the husband’s ex-wife but they were young, hot and they could survive that. Lena looked at the sun and thought of the Yeti’s eyes. She felt him in her belly. She was sick with missing him. She ran for the pool, “okay, baby!” she yelled back at Natasha and jumped in. Underwater, Lena saw the white bottom of the pool and thought of the Yeti’s warm, cashmere fur. She wanted to be wrapped in him. She wanted to kiss him and get surrounded by his primal warmth. She missed him. She came up for

photo 2 (1)

Natasha – Lena’s Best Friend

breath and Natasha said, “Tongue out, baby!” in her Russian accent. Lena leaned her head back. Her nipples were underwater, but her cleavage was over the waves and basking in the sun in all their glory. Lena’s hair spread out over the water. Natasha poured the pina colada over her friend’s face. Lena lapped up what she could but it looked more like she’d taken a cumshot than that she was drinking a cocktail at the pool of this Cozumel resort. The day was hot. The ocean water was clean blue, emerald. They heard the Maya used to call that color yax in the old days. Now it was called emerald or aquamarine. Now these Russian whores and bestfriends, one in love with a Yeti still in Nepal somewhere, married to a She-Yeti, were enjoying their pampering at the hands of the staff of the Hotel Riviera Maya Ruski. The staff all spoke Russian, Mayan, English, and Spanish. That was Mexican hospitality. You could pay in just about any currency you wanted, but dollars (not pesos) were the default. Fucking gringos! The girls kissed each other. Lena liked kissing Natasha more than kissing anyone else in the world. She was so happy to have her friend back. She pushed her tongue up into Tasha’s mouth, then she left it there. Natasha worked her circular magic around her friend’s tongue. A bit of pina colada drooled out between them. Vlad watched and found himself very hard. He’d had the two girls many times but still got turned on by them. They were hot! They were sluts! They were his sluts! Lena opened her eyes and looked off into the distance.

“What?” Natasha said in her high-pitched voice. “Him still Enough!” she scolded in her high-cadence.

“I could have sworn I saw him out there.”

“Ha!” Natasha said. “Like he could swim here. And how would he even know you were here. Come on!” Her voice went up in intonation in each sentence, almost like she was asking a question, but she wasn’t. “Come on, baby!” Natasha said and pulled Lena’s tits out of the little bikini that they were dying to break out from.

“That’s it! All my girls out in the pool,” said Vlad. He reached and pulled his new wife’s tits out to join his old wife’s tits. “You girls are gor–” He stopped mid-sentence as this massive cloud shut out the sun’s rays.

It was suddenly cold.

The temperature was dropping quickly. The sounds changed. They no longer heard the relaxing ebb and flow of the waves but instead heard the high-pitched squealing of the wind. It was a nasty Arctic wind. Lena remembered that sound the first time she ever crossed paths with the fucking Yeti.

Her heart started to race. Butterflies took to her stomach. Her mouth went dry. She searched the surroundings which were changing from tropical aquamarine paradise to white, cold joy. Yeti-joy. She wanted to find him but all she saw was the once verdant mountain snow-capped and frigid. The sun was still shining. No. That wasn’t the sun. That was the fucking eyeball that mesmerized her. It was the Yeti. He shook is head and it was like a tsunami coming off of him. He had swum here. He was shaking is head like a dog who had just come out of a pool, except his shake sent small tidal waves around and everyone scattered looking for safe cover.

“It’s the fucking Yeti,” yelled Natasha. She grabbed Vlad by the hand and led him uphill. “I told you to bring the gun.”

“No more curséd guns, Tash.” He said while running. His voice still sounded calm and deep, the fucking Russian. So macho even in the face of Monster with a hard-on. “I can’t take another potential life from anybody.”

“Just run, you idiot!” she chided him. They ran to safely to safety. The yeti loomed so large the scene had not only gone cold, it had gone dark.

“What is it?” another bikini’d vacationer asked Vlad and Natasha.

“It’s a Yeti.”

“Does it bring snow everywhere it goes?” The vacationer was interested.

“I have no fucking idea…bitch.” Natasha had had enough of the bimbo and her yeti-questions. She was watching in horror as the Yeti held her best friend in his hand and commenced the milking of her giant milky udders. The Yeti drank Lena’s milk.

“That’s just wrong,” Bikini Bimbo said.

At this moment, a ship shot out of the water, it was ruddered by a giant cock. A man in a Vietnamese rice-picking hat covered in barnacle necklaces and sporting a cock at least two-storeys long and dripping wet from sea-captaining a vessel. He shot out of the water like a sub-human cannonball and then, from mid-air, aimed his harpoon at the fucking yeti who wasn’t facing him. “Hey, Mike!” yelled Barnacle Man and the yeti ignored him. Barnacle Man landed on the ground, still pointing the harpoon at the fucking yeti. “Hey, ‘Mike,'” yelled little Jackie Li and the yeti stopped drinking Lena’s milk and turned to face Barnacle Man and the harpoon. The yeti growled so loud that the Earth shook. The pool bottom cracked and all the water drained, leaving nothing but a few icicles hanging from the diving board.

Barnacle Man shot. Lena yelled, “No!” The Yeti whimpered and reached for his harpooned eye. The antumbra disappeared. The red was gone and it went glassy and started to look more like an opal. Lena’s heart broke. Those eyes. They were injured, by this little Asian fucking Gook Yeti-Harpooning Bastard. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Barnacle ignored the milked sexpot and her bemoaning and chained the yeti’s hands. This little big-dicked fucker knew what the hell he was doing. It was no ordinary harpoon. It was alive and it punctured the yeti’s eye and then wrapped the rope and heavy chain attached to it around the yeti’s hairy wrists until he was bound and subdued.

The yeti had been captured.

The hotel staff either had excellent training as first responders or they had captured mythical beasts before because they came down to Barnacle Man, gave him a limonada (let Callie tell you about lemons and limes and how they got reversed when they made their way into English, don’t bother me with linguistics now, I’ve been trying to write this story in one fucking try, ok? Take it to chomsky or callie already! Yeah limón is the green one and lima is the yellow, okay? Happy now?) the green limeade with sugar and sparkling motherfucking water which the hungry Asian yeti-capturing sea-pirate chugged down while they hotel staff, in uniforms, very form-fitting I will say (perfect for a gangbang scene later), and carted the Yeti off to Mythical Creature jail at the top of the now snow-capped mountain.

End Part 1 – Book 3 of MILKED BY THE YETI

###

Previous Installments

Preview of Part 2 – Book 3 Milked by the Yeti

The Yeti was okay in jail. He’d been in jails before. He spent time in a Nepalese jail for a while. He met Bruce Wayne there, incidentally. Big fan. Bruce of the fucking yeti, that is. He was also in a North Korean jail for a while when he was making crystal meth. Barnacle Man, employed by the Kim family in the 80s caught the fucking yeti, that was his fifth time, and then dragged his whining pink ass (yes like an baboon) to the great Democratic People’s Republic of Korea [조선민주주의인민공화국 (朝鮮民主主義人民共和國)] where he taught the locals to make meth so the north could claim an income stream and keep up with the South who were doing the same with the help of GIs in the occupying US military. Anyway, it’s all very political and you don’t care, just trust me on this one key point, Barnacle Man has been a fucking thorn in the side of the Yeti for hundreds of years now. Thus he cock-ruddered up to the HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI and kicked the white motherfucking yeti’s pink behind (yes we missed this detail in the first two segments of the YETI, oh well, dear reader. Great catch!). Now the Yeti was chill, cooperative, and all he asked for, this “Mike” the Yeti, was a psychologist. No that’s not exactly the right word, a marriage counselor. According to the Yeti, he wasn’t trying to kill and villagers from any village outside of the Himalayas (the Himalayan Beef you will have to allow him for it’s been an ongoing tit for tat for thousands of years now). The counselor sat on a frozen log outside the cage where the Yeti was shackled. The Yeti had both of his arms pinned to the wall with two u-shaped shackled held together by big thick clevis pins. He wasn’t going anywhere. The counselor listened, nodded, and occassionally jotted down notes. They spoke in Nepali. The HOTEL RIVIERA DE MAYA RUSKI had employees capable of speaking just about every language on the planet. The Yeti, Mike was saying, was simply in a bad marriage and there was just something about Lena. Those tits! Those tits! They were just so milky! He growled with passion, with hunger, with desperation. Please bring her to me. Conjugal visits. Lactational visits. The counselor said, “I’ll see what I can do about that,” and left the Yeti fettered to the wall.

STAY TUNED FOR THE CONCLUSION OF MILKED BY THE YETI Part 2Book 3 by Moctezuma Johnson

booyaka!

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 2 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again), Part 2

By Callie Press

A behind the scenes look at Callie’s process and then installment 2 of MILKED BY THE YETI below with some beats/scribbles/callie-stuff at the end

See, writing is almost always a stream of consciousness thing with me. That’s why I can go really fast when I do. None of the ‘work’ is in rough drafts for me, it’s all in fixes. Writing is rewriting, that kind of shit. Luckily, the closer my roughs come to firsts, the better off I am, and the closer my firsts come to finals, the better off I am (everybody knows that). I use this little system hubby taught me in my editing days (which he used and still uses for editing as well). I posted a blog on writer’s block that mostly explains it, but the nuts and bolts are, when I’m ‘working,’ I am writing. If I am not writing, I am typing. I never run out of ideas. I can’t keep up with them. You’re the same way whether you know it or not. Keep typing when you can’t write, let your mind wander to wherever it wants to go, daydream and write down your daydreams, just set them aside in BOLD BRACKETS [Like this] because it makes them easier to spot and cut out once you move out of typing and into writing.

In part 1, and in this part (mostly), and in anything you ever see from me, you don’t see pure rough draft. Ever. First draft is the pure rough draft with all those bold bracket comments removed, so it is the rough draft, it’s just minus my writing baggage and my thinking baggage and my emotional or physical pain that’s going on, if any. Rough draft is the mess I make in my document when I start something. The first draft is after I cut away all the shit and put it aside and have something left that looks like it could be a story or a chapter or a section or a scene or a vignette or what-have-you.

And now, Milked by the Yeti (Again) returns to you already in progress!

 

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Callie’s Milked by the Yeti

“Lena!” cried Vlad as Lena receded from their grasp. “Fight him! It’s as if he thinks he can discard you, and take you back whenever he wants!” People were screaming now in the tent, and trying to find the staked-down bottom edges so they could escape the clinging flames. Vivek was unconscious atop it.

The Yeti slung Lena over his shoulder and turned away. He ran off toward the woods at the foot of the mountain, but as they watched, he disappeared. His fur and hide had the power of illusion in the Himalayan snow as well as any 9th level Wizard who hadn’t specialized him- or herself out of the school of illusion magic.

The shaggy mountain held Lena in the crook of his massive, strong arm as if she were sitting in a chair covered with the flowing, downy silk of his fur. The wind was cold in her face, but she was warmed by his inner furnace. She was angry. She wasn’t as angry as she should have been, because his fur was so warm and soft to her delicate senses. Now and again she would look up at him, about to tell him to take her back. Every time she would see those bewitching pinholes—the red antumbrae of his huge, dark eyes—and become ensorcelled anew.

She was looking into his eyes even as he fell head-first into the snow. He had arched his back and landed on his forehead. His knees were on the ground and this turned his enormous body into a cave, where Lena had his forearm for a bench. He wiggled his head and shoulders so that his left shoulder became snow-covered with his head resting on it. His right shoulder was raised and away from his face enough to leave a small gap so air and light could get in. His face was inside this cave, but upside-down and a little sideways to Lena. She saw him looking at her.

Those eyes…she could not understand the spell his eyes put on her. She felt like a hippie adolescent girl getting a first look at Peter Frampton, although Lena couldn’t possibly know anyone had ever felt that exact feeling in 1977, which was long before the buxom young Russian prostitute had been born. Her nipples ached in arousal the longer she sat in the warm cave just staring into his freaky, big-ass monster peepers.

She heard some pursuit, villagers who had seen the attack and pursued (at a safe distance). They passed them right by, and right as Lena thought to call out to them, the Yeti made a little “Shh” sound and locked eyes with her again.

She looked into those red dots, so enchanting and kindly. How could she betray him? They would surely shoot him, even though he hadn’t harmed her yet this time. She couldn’t bear the thought of that, even though she doubted a few bullets would do much besides piss of this living monolith of adaptation. But she didn’t even want him pissed off as his magical eyes did their thing to her, as we have gone on about at length already. You get it, right?

Then she noticed he was staring at her bosom. All she had on was one of Vlad’s button-down shirts she had borrowed. After getting her ass kicked down the mountain and being rescued, she wanted to go straight to bed. It was a little less than mid-thigh on her and her enormous breasts pushed it out and snugged it up on her round, two perfect handfuls of ass cheek as well. She looked hot like a sexy young Russian prostitute ought to look and her abductor had finally noticed, probably because her tits were too big for the shirt, and her nipples were hard in spite of the warmth in the hidey-hole he created.

As the Yeti’s enormous until bumped her elbow, the only thing that haunted Lena were Vlad’s last words to her. “It’s as if he thinks he can discard you, and take you back whenever he wants!” These words troubled Lena as she unbuttoned the button down and the Yeti grinned, showing unappealing teeth that had never been seen by any dentist, nor even an elf who would one day be a dentist. This concept stuck in her mind as she dropped the sexy man-shirt and got on all fours in the little cave under his chest and pelvis. Vlad’s worrisome sentiment niggled at her brain as she pushed her wet, naked, tiny pussy up against the ham-sized head of his abominable cock. She heard “he thinks he can discard you!” as the roof of her snowman-tent started drilling its giant pecker into the ridiculously tiny knothole of her wanton cunt.

She took him inside her the best she could, which was the same kind of nuisance and glory as it had been the last time he fucked her, so you can just remember that time for those details. He was clever enough not to get his stroke on really well. Random Asians in parkas kept coming close and walking around. The Asians in parkas kept calling her name in their varied accents as they walked right past the little airhole by his shoulder. They were of several nationalities, although all of their parkas were identical.

The little nudges the Yeti-yurt made, as he merely stretched her lips beyond the point of childbirth with no significant penetration, drove her crazy. “Oh Yeti,” she moaned, staring into his eyes. He gave her a couple inches in and out, slowly, and he moved the enclosed arm she had been using for a seat. First he laid a finger across her lips to shush her, then he groped the nearest huge, pale, milky Russian titty he could reach.

“Oh Yeti,” Lena said, “I’m going to come on your big furry Yeti dick!”

The yeti shrugged and Lena started to shudder, coming on his big furry Yeti dick. The beast himself just kept moving his hips what little motion the Asians in parkas wouldn’t notice. It was obvious to Lena that the abominable monster wanted to be deeper, which only excited her shivering, overstretched fuckhole even more.

The creature’s eyes locked with hers again. She was only just starting to come down from the high of orgasm when she knew he was displeased with her. As sudden as a wet towel to the ass, his formerly bench-hand gripped her about the waist and he stood up to his full height. She slipped off his cock with an audible pop and he roared.

Three or four Asians in parkas stood nearby, too terrified to even remember they were holding bolt-action rifles. Bolt-action rifles are easier to use with mittens. That’s not true, I don’t think. But you can imagine how it makes a kind of sense, until you really think about it much. They didn’t know either way.* In any case, they had bolt-action rifles, but they forgot about them when the Yeti emitted his earth-shaking, pissed off and horny roar.

The Yeti was full-blown DTF. That means down to fuck. He was blaming Lena, for his frustration, at the shallow penetration, in their former situation. He was good and aroused, but bitchy as hell all of a sudden in that way you can only get when sex is annoying you for some reason. He roared until all of the Asians in parkas ran away toward their mountain camp, and then he finally started eating up the ground with his long-legged Yeti run.

He was taking her back to his home on the mountain. She was scared, and her face was cold again though her butt was warm, and she was also strangely happy. Especially when they did the eye contact thing.

“Oh Yeti,” Lena said sadly. “I can’t fall in love with you. I can’t. I can’t!”

He aimed his antumbrae right into her pupils as he kept taking big clumsy yeti-run steps up the steep slope of the mountain, turning and climbing unexpectedly as needed.

“But I already have…” Lena whispered to herself as she swam in his sensual eyes. “Fucking Yeti!”

He kept working up the mountain, cradling her in one herculean arm, as the sun started to set.

 

Beats / Scribbles? / Callie-shit in brackets:

*I don’t either. In subsequent drafts, I would either look it up and make the statement, and/or cut all of this shit. To be honest, in other first drafts, I have brackets that I cut out which contains the irrelevant stuff that hits me in the zone, like this since it’s coming right now more than her getting off on the yeti pecker: [oh here’s a bit of a snippet for the Sarcashmo/Queen Kegel first story, she says “Hello, Sarcashmo, or is it Saint Semen this time?” and he says “San Esperma!” and she all cute and sexy says, “Oooh, how rootsy!” and you can bet this or something like it will turn up sooner or later, in this case, sooner] [Hey I promised first draft, this is what I have to live with, one time won’t hurt you any. I’ll cut the rest of them out before I give it to MJ for dissemination, don’t worry]

From MJ: so Callie says, to whom I do not know, and then gives it all to me like one sizzling quark that I am not sure I can handle safely without blowing up the universe. I get quark-tongs, jump into my protective suit, man the robot armor, and do my best.

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 1 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Monster Porn Image
Callie Press and Moctezuma Johnson take turns helping the Yeti Milk Lena in this Fantasy Erotica featuring the Abominable Snowman

Milked By The Yeti Again, part 1

By Callie Press

The Sequel to Moctezuma Johnson’s Milked By The Yeti serial

Introduction by MJ

 

I’d be remiss not to slightly plug this frigid little snowed-in chestnut by Callie Press. First, why the fuck are we writing this one wank wonder trash? Well, it’s kind of an inside joke about how we are wasting our precious time worrying about plots that few people care about and Milked by the Yeti was our code for that type of plotless story. Milked by the Yeti the concept took on a life of its own when I we kept saying we should write it, she should write, we really should write this. So on Thursday, I think, I outlined it and wrote the first part. Each day I added a part until I had four parts, a beginning middle and end, and the first “book” (it’s only on this site) in the Milked by the Yeti Series. Callie said, you should write Milked by the Yeti Again. Why don’t you write it? Voila. Most of my writer friends would say they were going to do it and then hem and haw, complain, wax poetic about a thousand other things like a literary Larry David, complain some more, but not Queen Callie. A few hours later and presto. Excelsior! She has a knack for pounding (words). So let me step aside and give the mic to Ms. Callie Press who I cannot thank enough for inspiring me to throw the kitchen sink at the page and who I think is on the brink of a special kind of stardom. I’ve had the absolute pleasure of taking a peek at some of her upcoming writing and she’s about to rip your panties off and stuff down your throats (in a good way, natch!).

Please clap your hands for Callie Press…

My process is different, but surely equally abnormal, if not outright broken-headed crazy…I just make them real in my mind and watch them, then explain what I saw as well as I’m able (and yes, I do it in Word, even though I am teased by some people about using stone-age technology).
So once I go back and re-read the original for the third time, I’ll watch them for a while in my still-hydrocodoned-to-oblivion state and then, with no break you can see but which amounts to a huge pause in this document to me, I’ll bang out the first draft of the first installment and slap it onto the blog right here, unedited, uncorrected, rough draft serial. Like Mark Twain, only smuttier, and with those Hemingway sentences that leave no room for misunderstanding. Yeah this sentence was edited away, sorry. Anyhow. So that’s what you’ll be reading as soon as you get past this line!

 

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Milked By The Yeti Again, part 1

by Callie Press

The man wore a bright red turban with an enormous white and yellow feather in it. It matched his clothes and outrageous mustachios. He was straddling Lena, who was on her back on a cot. Her forearms were trapped at her sides by his thighs. His brown hands were clenched around her throat and he was shaking her. His hands were brown because he was an Indian man named Vivek. He was shaking her so hard so that her head seemed ready to snap at the neck. He was also yelling.

“Where is my Radika!” he kept yelling. He shook Lena so hard her big tits threatened to erupt from the button-up shirt she had been sleeping in.

“Help! Natasha! Vlad!” she cried.

“Where is my Radika! I know you saw her!” he yelled right in her face. Shake, and again.

Natasha rushed in, followed immediately by Vlad. They both hurried over to the smaller man and pulled him off of Lena as deftly as a horny nerd virgin trying to unhook his first bra—that is, poorly and awkwardly with no apparent success.

“Where is my Radika!” he yelled again, right in Natasha’s ear.

She rolled her eyes and open-hand slapped the man right in the mouth. “You shut up with that, Vivek,” Natasha told him. They finally got him completely off of Lena. Natasha gave Vlad a look and Vlad nodded, implying he had a good hold on Vivek. “Why do you think Lena would know where Radika ran off to?” Natasha asked.

“My Radika did not run off! Radika was looking for her!” he yelled and nodded at Lena.

“Vivek, stop yelling!” Natasha yelled.

“I’m sorry for yelling!” Vivek shouted. “She is my world! My darling! I must know why she is gone so long!”

Lena shook her head and rubbed her neck. “I don’t know anyone named Radika,” she lied truthfully. “Get away from me. Get out of my tent!” She looked at Vlad. “Can’t you do something with him? Arrest him? Beat him up at least?”

“It’s their camp,” Vlad told her. “They fleece tourists from this camp who come for the mountain. Maybe we should just forget this happened, eh Vivek?”

Just then, her tent lifted up and flew off into the distance, disappearing behind other tents just like Lena’s. A massive roar erupted from the mouth of the giant, shaggy brute that was hovering over them all. This beast the color of the snow blotted out the sun and cast all four of them into a shadow. He was a mountain of terrycloth virility made of Osmond teeth. His dreamy, freaky eyes cast over them and landed on Lena, who met his stare with a glazed, open-mouthed expression that made her beautiful face look pretty stupid.

“Is that the fucking Yeti?” Natasha asked, her long blonde locks flying sensuously.

Lena nodded.

“Let’s run!” Natasha said as she grabbed Lena’s arm and tried to get her on her feet.

“My god,” Vlad said as he wrestled awkwardly with Vivek, “He must have left to find you as soon as he woke up from his… post-coital nap!” Both of them just wanted to get unentangled. They fumbled over each other until Vlad gave Vivek a powerful shove toward the Yeti. Vlad got to his feet and Vivek stumbled right at the lumbering tower of white fur.

The Yeti stepped forward and struck Vivek with his leg-sized, steel-hard erection. It hit Vivek in the side of his head like a mule kick, and sent him ass over applecart into the next tent. That tent collapsed in a heap with people struggling under it, and it instantly caught fire from the overturned oil lamp.

Then the Yeti grabbed Lena’s shapely ankles in one massive hand and pulled her away from Vlad and Natasha as easily as a bucktoothed mama’s boy pulls the wings off flies.

“Lena!” cried Vlad as Lena receded from their grasp. “Fight him! It’s as if he thinks he can discard you, and take you back whenever he wants!” People were screaming now in the tent, and trying to find the staked-down bottom edges so they could escape the clinging flames. Vivek was unconscious atop it.

The Yeti slung Lena over his shoulder and turned away. He ran off toward the woods at the foot of the mountain, but as they watched, he disappeared. His fur and hide had the power of illusion in the Himalayan snow as well as any gnome or chameleon or Las Vegas magician or trickster god of the Native Americans, Crow.

Natasha sighed and looked at Vlad resignedly. “I guess you should go get the truck again. And maybe find a gun this time.”

“You know why I don’t like guns! No,” Vlad said firmly.

Natasha turned away from him, staring in the direction the Abominable beast had disappeared to with her Lena. “Just get a gun.”

Vlad left to get the truck and a gun.

 

Milked by the Yeti | I’m writing this online day by day | #EARTG #SSRTG #MrBrtg | Witness it in installments, like TV — PART IV —

Milked by the Yeti

by Moctezuma Johnson

Yes, I’ll write this piece online so you can see the slow, stupid process I am stuck with thanks to brain damage, deafness, and incessant masturbation

 

fun fact: this installment contains a little bit of what i call “twerking the yeti”

 

MILKED BY THE YETI

Installment 1 :: Installment 2 :: Installment 3 :: Installment 4

 

This girl in the sari grabbed Lena by the throat and started to choke her. Yesterday a Tahr tried to rape her, today an Indian ghost was trying to murder her. The tighter the grip on Lena’s throat the more Lena realized for certain that this wasn’t a goat or a ghost. Lena was fully awake, surging with adrenaline, and realized the girl was going to kill her out of fear. Lena couldn’t die like this. She needed to talk, to tell her that she wasn’t some Queen of the Yetis but a victim. Lena tried to speak but the woman had her overpowered until a furry white arm struck the woman and knocked her back. The woman started yelling in a language that Lena couldn’t understand. The Yeti growled and jumped up. Lena fell back as the hairy beast lurched forward and grabbed the Indian woman. Lena braced herself for a gnarly site. Yesterday, the Yeti slashed that goat when he tried to rape Lena. He’d surely rip this woman limb to limb since she was going to murder Lena. Murder was far worse than rape.

The Yeti pinned the woman’s arms up.She dropped the knife. Lena grimaced, waiting for blood to start flying again.

The Yeti stopped. He stared at this woman, she was trembling with fear and trying her best to turn away. The Yeti rubbed his head against the hips of this exotic woman. He wasn’t angry. He was horny. It was just like a man to wake up horny. This voluptuous subcontinent vixen let him rub her body. She was from a place where women were set on fire for burning dinner. She knew how to assuage a male ego. She did a sort of booty shake for the yeti, it was more of a fluid belly dance move than a twerk, and he fell right into it. His face moved with the wave of her booty dance.

The Yeti watched a little and then yanked the woman’s sari off. He spun her around and pushed her back. Her big ass was out. The Yeti began eating her ass out.

Lena was horrified.

She could see that his furry tongue was all over her big asshole. He licked up and down the crack, licked the pussy lips, and then really worked on the asshole until this Hindi music-video star was writhing in bliss and moaning in the high pitch bitch of a male-female Bollywood duet.

Lena’s eyes bulged over her head. She felt a deep sickness in her stomach. She wanted to barf. She bent over and coughed and wretched. She didn’t throw up, but she was really close.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lena stood up. She couldn’t cover herself up although she wanted to. She walked right up to the Yeti and his new Indian sex-toy and started reprimanding him. “You can’t just fuck me and then play with this little bitch.” He kept eating between the two brown orbs of ass cheek. “You hear me?”

The Yeti growled and flicked Lena away with a simple flick of his hairy wrist. She flew back and onto her naked ass. It was cold.

She started to stand back up but the yeti turned to her and growled fiercely and she froze and decided not to move.

Once again she was just the big-tit plaything. The warm up for something else. This time she had to watch as the Yeti held her in front of him and fucked her from behind while she sat down on him. The woman stared at Lena with a wry smile as the yeti fucked her pussy. She stared like she new she was the main attraction. 1293679_af930a0_770x2000

Lena sat absolutely still, trying to hold in the tears and the convulsions that crying wanted to send through her body. The Yeti moaned load and deep, it was the moan of orgasm and shot his seed into this woman.

He leaned forward and this woman smashed her head on the hard icy ground. Blood trickled from her forehead. Lena stared at the poor woman in horror. Her eyes went frozen. She was gone. “You killed her, you stupid Yeti!” She cradled her own arms and cried. She was jealous, she was scared, she was mad. “What did you kill her for? You already fucked her? If you were going to kill her you were supposed to kill her before you fucked her, you asshole? Now you’ve broken our bond and murdered. That’s very bad.”

Lena was hysterical. She wasn’t making much sense to herself. She felt like she might explode. The Yeti came forward and stood in front of her. His massive white cock dangled in front of her. For a moment, Lena thought he would choke her to death with it, then she realized that he wanted to play with her tits. The feeling of his furry paws was amazing. It was smooth as silk and cozy as cashmere. The pleasure went from pure bliss to a kind of uncomfortable feeling as it escalated from gentle rubbing to nipple-squeezing and pulling. “Ouch,” Lena said. “Are you going to murder me, too?” she asked the Yeti flirtatiously.

He pulled at her like a farmer would pull at a cow’s teats and Lena realized that he wasn’t pleasuring her. He was priming her. In a moment, he rolled his fingers against the nipples in such a way that milk poured out of them. He sucked the milk right from the nipples. He sucked. He drank. He gulped. He milked some more. He drank some more. He did this until her nipples were sore as an ass after first-anal.

The Yeti was satisfied with a belly full of milk.

Lena was exhausted and wanted to sleep again. She had just been choked by a woman. Then she had been cheated on and milked by the Yeti. She leaned against his strong torso. The antumbra of his eyes seemed redder than before.

The Yeti put his arms around her. She was happy again. Maybe she was lost in a snowy mountain in Nepal. Maybe humanity had failed her, but at least she had somebody. Well, something. The Yeti held her in his arms. She may mean nothing to the human race but she was the main act in the play named Yeti. He picked her up in the air. She was like a doll to him. She was his toy. He lifted her out of the cave.

Were they going for a walk? Was he about to introduce her to his friends? his parents? 

Her heart raced as she thumped over his strong shoulder. He carried her to the edge of the stand of trees outside the mouth of the cave. He threw her to the ground. Snow kicked up and she made a butt-angel in the thick white powder. She giggled.

The Yeti kicked her so hard that it nearly shattered her ribs and sent her rolling down the steep side of the mountain. As she rolled and slid down the steep slope she saw him disappear back into the cave, then saw the trees get smaller as she rolled away, until finally she couldn’t find the trees anymore in her teary eyes and couldn’t be sure there even were trees, a cave, a dead Bollywood actress, and a Yeti. All she could be sure of was that she was buck naked and milk-icicles had formed off of her nipples. She was nobody’s main act.

She would freeze to death. She had had enough. She broke off one of the milk-icicles from her tits and ate one. It tasted horrible.

Lena closed her eyes to die. She heard the raging wind close around her. It would all be over soon.

“Come on. Let’s go.” Lena heard a thick Russian accent speaking in English. It was a familiar voice, a voice that sent Lena’s heart fluttering with Joy.

“Natasha!” she tried to scream but she was barely mumbling since she was on the verge of death.

“It’s too cold out here to be naked, you whore!” Natasha said covering Lena in a thick blanket and planting a long, loud kiss on her frozen cheek.

Lena opened her eyes and saw her best friend in front of her. A truck rumbled meekly a few meters away. Vlad was in the driver’s seat. He beeped the horn. “Let’s go, gorgeous!” he yelled at both of them, “Before any abominable snowmen come.”

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Moctezuma Johnson writes fucked up stories about fucked up characters with various sexual fetishes, hang-ups, obsessions, and addictions. Read more about him at moctezumajohnson.com

If you enjoyed this, please leave a comment or email him and let him know at moctezuma.johnson(at)gmail.com

 

 

OUTLINE used for this installment:

  1. The Yeti then captures a Pakistani chick named Radika who has a massive booty
    1. The YEti sleeps with his arms around Radika
    2. Lena is incredibly jealous
    3. He impregnates Radika
    4. He gets sick of Radika and kills her (whether intentional or not can be neither confirmed not denied)
  2. He milks Lena and she is happy that he has come back to her
    1. She wants to be the main act in somebody’s show
    2. He drinks Lena’s titty-milk and we have a happy ending
      1. Until he tosses her back into the wild, cold, exposed, scared, and now milked by the YETI.
      2. Lena gets a final surprise shock