Epilogue – Book 3 Milked by the Yeti


by Moctezuma Johnson

Well, as Lena feared the Yeti got to have his way with her. It took a while for her to learn how to take his entire yeti-penis inside of her, but she did. She was better off being on top of him that way she could control how much of him she was taking. At first it was pain on par with childbirth, not that she was conscious for hers. Then it was pain and pleasure mixed. It led her to orgasms of which she had previously only dreamed. The yeti was the king of the sexual jungle, no doubt.

Then her worst fears came true. As much as the yeti had obsessed over her, and her milky titties, she woke up one morning and her breasts felt different. She cupped one of her magnificent titties and it was softer, lighter. The yeti grabbed Lena and had a kneading session and then a quick suck but was upset to find that there was no milk left. The following day he sucked again in the morning and found them devoid of milk one more time. On day three, when her tits turned out to be done producing milk he took her over his shoulder. Lena was crying, cursing the gods of milky titties, and pounding on his back trying to convince him not to punt her. He rolled her into a ball, like she was in the middle of doing a crunch or a hanging leg raise, and then kicked her down the mountain, again. It was a bone crushing kick that shattered her femur and sent her flying through the air. She landed plushly in a soft powder of snow but her momentum carried her down the mountain. She rolled and rolled, in excruciating pain each time she flipped over, and landed at the village one more time. Natasha was contacted. Lena’s thigh was set in a bandage by the local guru. She was given hot tea and blanket. She sipped, shivered, and cursed the fucking yeti, milked by “Mike” for the last time.


Fill Your Free Time with a little MILKED BY THE YETI #EARTG #SSRTG #LPRTG @MJKingOfErotica

Yeti Terrorizes the Village


Moctezuma Johnson

In Nepal, things were chill for a few months. “The Yeti (aka “Mike”) 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 patiently 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. No excursions to his private Yeti-cave, no kidnapping of voluptuous Pakistani women, no ass-raping brave Western tourists, nor milking Russian Lena-look-alikes. The Yeti had been surprisingly well-behaved.

He went for the first time. He remembered skating her. He remembered entering Lena but he was too big to get all the way in. He found Lena’s tattered top. 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 Sherpa. 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 Sherpa. It was the worst Yeti-massacre in human history. He finished posing the dead bodies. He wiped his eyes again with Lena’s 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.

If it wasn’t so bloody, the dead bodies would have formed a beautiful scene. It turns out the Yeti was quite the artist. He had Lena’s tits expertly narrated. With the whitish flesh of the dead bodies he built the subcutaneous goodness of her massive mammaries, with the jackets and clothes drenched in a good amount of blood he formed her spectacular areolas with expert shading, and with their heads and darkest features (sometimes the most utterly blood-soaked) the yeti formed her extraordinary nipples, the source of all the yeti’s longing. He stared at his elegy. It wasn’t a lament for the dead. The yeti didn’t empathize with dead humans any more than humans feel for mosquitoes. He lamented the loss of his favorite milky titties, Lena’s breasts.

On the open seas, Vlad, Natasha, Barnacle Man, a fettered Yeti, and a comatose Lena (with all her life-support machines) were en route to the Himalayas.

“What happened to you, Jackie?” Natasha asked the poor Sea Captain who was in the beginning throws of an orgy with the gorgeous blonde when he was rudely assaulted, captured, and taken against his will.

“Ah those guys?” Jack Li said. “I owed them a quarter. Sorry I couldn’t pleasure you right back there. Jack Li hates to leave a woman in anticipa–”

He stopped the boat for a moment, his cock rudder ceasing to flap incredibly, then he steered them at full speed into a narrow river that led them at insane speeds past Dhaka, West Bengal, and Sikkam, India to the end of the river. They made their way from Darjeeling without drinking even one cup of tea [[tea’s nutz, I had to say it!]] through the highlands by bus to their destination at foot of the Himalayas where they saw the Yeti last time.

Leaving the baby-yeti and his comatose mother in the rudder-craft, Vlad, Natasha, and Jack disembarked.

The villagers were in an uproar. They had knives, shotguns, even a few (who must have been in a military of some sort) had AK-47s. They were speaking frenetically.

“The Yeti has been massacring the locals, breaking a long tradition of relative peace beside a few big-titted women taken for pleasure,” said Jack Li. “They want to kill him.”

They all looked back to the craft to Lena’s comatose body to see if she’d stir. Nothing. Natasha sighed and flipped her golden hair back. There was a sound from way high above. It was a glassy gong sound, a chime. The villagers were scampering, getting in pick up trucks to go get Yeti-blood. It permeated the air, some deep bass. It was a tocsin, alerting the villages that it was time to attack.

Vlad said, “It’s emanating from the Buddhist temple on the mountain. Hide the baby!”

It was too late, the villagers had spotted the baby-yeti in the strange craft of Barnacle man and were already pointing their firearms in their direction.

A massive growl thundered out of the craft. The thunderous growl tore through the sound of chimes, gongs, voices, and clips locking into automatic rifles.

The leader of the villagers, an old man with a wrinkled brown face, lively green eyes, and a grey mustache and goatee, barked at Jack Li.

“They want the boy,” Jack said to Vlad. “We have no choice.”

“No,” screamed Natasha. “They will kill him. Never.”

Natasha was trembling with rage, fear, and indecision.

The leader stepped slowly to the entrance of the craft. Jack Li allowed the old man to move to it. Natasha, however, stepped in his way and put her lanky body in front of him. “Nyet,” she said in decisive Russian defiance.

He looked at the Russian goddess closely, inhaling her blue eyes, letting her golden hair fan out in the cold like rays from the sun. He smiled.

“Take me instead,” Natasha said. “You can all have me, share me.”

The old man laughed. He reached forward and grabbed Natasha hard by the nipple right over her jacket with one hand and by the hair with the other. He yanked her head back with a fistful of her hair. “You cannot handle even one of us, let alone ALL of us,” he said. He laughed hard and loud, and his heavily-armed minions laughed with him although they probably didn’t understand much of his broken-English. He twisted her nipple.

Natasha, with her head back, hair in this old man’s grip, stayed confident. “You’re wrong. If there’s one thing I know it is how to please groups of men. I have experience.” She said it slowly and her cocksucking lips were full and gorgeous. They carried with them the promise of oral pleasure. Her hands worked down to the old man’s crotch which she rubbed playfully.

Their discourse was cut short by a loud growl and white, hairy fist smashing the craft into two in one swift blow.

When the yeti, the adult yeti named “Mike”, was up there arranging dead Sherpa into the shape of Russian titties, the she-yeti was watching. She stood there watching the love of her life go on a killing-rampage because he was pining for the milky tits of a human. It was the saddest moment of her long, she-yeti life. It was sure as snow falls from the sky that her man was obsessed with tits that did not hang from the she-yeti. The she-yeti’s heart broke as she stared at “Mike” and the eerie sounds of chimes and gongs hung in the Himalayan air.

She decided that she would help her yeti man. He had been good to her. He had tried to love her properly. Love is a bizarre force. The heart goes to places that none could ever anticipate.

Fate is even more bizarre. Wifey-yeti snuck away from the yeti and his dead-body artwork and into the village because she spotted Jack Li, so she thought. She figured he would lead her to Lena.

Her fist smashed the craft in two. The villagers started to shoot, to run forward to knife her ankles, but none of this mattered to the she-yeti. She had expected to find Lena and give her to her husband. In one side of the split craft she found Lena, sleeping. But what she found in the other half of the craft changed everything. It changed her whole life forever. She didn’t hear the screaming, the gunfire, the gongs, the vitriol in the Nepali curses thrown at her as she mindlessly swatted, kicked, and utterly annihilated the angry militia. She only saw a baby-yeti with eyes of sunshine, fur of cashmere, and heart of pure gold. She unfettered him from his seat with the superhuman strength that only a mama can possess and took him into her arms. At that point, even the angry mob stopped attacking. One, the attack was futile, it was suicide to engage with a protective mama-yeti. Two, they were curious what was happening and just wanted to watch. What they saw was a miracle. The she-yeti held the baby to her and he went for her nipples. She shook her head. She hadn’t been pregnant. She was of no real motherly use to him. She wasn’t the mother and didn’t have big balloon titties filling automatically with milk. The big-titted, comatose, human, non-furry whore was the actual mother. Although it was true that the she-yeti was not the biological mother, the DNA gods that twist our strands—human, animal, mythological beast, etc—into double helices, had gathered the cosmic fibers in the she-yeti in such a maternal way upon sight of the baby yeti that when his lips met her yeti-nipples the damnedest thing happened.

Milk rained from her tits.

The baby yeti had found what he was looking for in a mother, in a life force. He drank and drank and was truly being sated, the way every child deserves.

The villagers were in awe but then they were again shouting and screaming and arming their guns. The He-Yeti emerged from the white. But the yeti did not attack. He did not maim. He did not even growl.

The fucking yeti rubbed the back of the she-yeti. Then he gently smacked his son on the bottom. If a chronicler of animal emotions was nearby he would probably say that the yeti’s look could be classified as a smile. Think dog wagging his tail, cat with its tail up, or a duck standing on one leg. The yeti appeared happy.

The yeti found the half of the craft with Lena in it. He removed her and the life-support machines. He unhooked her from the machines.

Natasha gasped and Vlad grabbed his new wife while watching the yeti put his old wife to eternal sleep. The yeti didn’t look sad exactly. His eyes were focused on Lena’s. They were burrowing through her. He had Lena’s body resting tenderly on his forearm. With his other hand, he kneaded her breasts. Then he leaned down and sucked on them.

“That’s a moribund milking,” Vlad said to Natasha with more than a small amount of disgust and superiority.

The yeti sucked the milk. His eyes, the antumbra changed color. They glowed pink. The she-yeti saw her husband’s eyes change color. It was love. She knew it. They were pink as roses on Valentine’s Day. The yeti stopped sucking Lena’s milk and cast his pink and black eyes, like pink solar eclipses, at his love.

Lena, although deep in a coma, barely holding on to her own life-force, on the brink of death, felt the pink eyes on her. It was like a chime in her brain. It flipped a switch. Her heart revved into gear. Her eyes opened.

She saw her beautiful yeti staring down at her. The opened her mouth. They kissed deeply. Her tongue was immediately ensconced in the warm cashmere of yeti-tongue which stimulated every nerve ending in her own tongue. It like kissing heaven directly.

The villagers began to clap.

Natasha and Vlad held each other tightly. Jack Li tossed a quarter up and down in his hand. The mama- and baby-yeti walked up the mountain to their cave.

The yeti continued to kiss his love. Once again Lena had been milked by the yeti.


End Book 3 ###

(What? you want more Yeti? If so, let Callie Press know with a tweet or any form of cummespondence. Thanks! We can convince her. Love, MJ)

My feeling is that the Yeti can never be monogamous and punts her off the mountain again!

Want more Moctezuma Johnson? Visit http://moctezumajohnson.com/ or check Moctezuma’s Smutpunk On Amazon






MILKED BY THE YETI, Book 3, Part 4


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!)

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.


Milked By The Yeti Again, part 4 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again) Part 4

By Callie Press

Thanks MJ! I knew the antumbra was inside, but I still had it wrong…go figger! MJ says, FUN FACT: I love supplying FUN FACTS. 

Part of my process is flaking out. Tonight I feel like reading comic books online more than writing, and I’m tired enough that I know I’ll feel like shit until I sleep. I guess I’m not as recovered as I thought. I can flake out though, it’s part of my own particular…what’s the word…idiom!

Anyhow, next time you see my words I’ll be wrapping it up! When you’re done here, go read my stuff on Amazon featuring Callie Press already. It’s Christmas, have a little mercy on me, buy something. [linky poo: http://j.mp/mjrcpp ] Stay tuned, true believers, this won’t be the last you see of some of these characters…!


In Case you Need Some BackStory:

Installment 1 | Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4
Installment 1Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4

Milked by the Yeti (Again) Part 4…The Conclusion!

Lena was awakened by the yeti’s hand grabbing her. The igloo interior had warmed enough that she could sleep, but when he reached inside it, his big-ass King Kong mitt shattered the whole structure and it came tumbling down around her. He was already pulling her out of it, so she just got a little icy snow in her hair.

It was morning. Early morning, so early that Lena would never be awake so early unless she had been up all night. The yeti didn’t give a hoot, he was awake and his massive yeti-cock was awake as well. Lena noticed his erection was big and jelly again. He must have still had his dander up to fight when he mounted her last time, which made his giant fuckstick stiff like a weapon. It seemed when he was DTF (that means down to fuck) it was Smucker’s-hard and not weapon-hard. Lena was relieved about this. When he was weapon-hard, he couldn’t get his stroke on without splitting her in half. She was too tiny. The last time, it made him very angry with her.

This morning, he had apparently fled Mrs. She-Yeti and her yeti-sized tits to apply his morning wood to Lena. Lena wondered how many other women he had stored in the little prison he had built and snatched her from.

The yeti brought her close to his face and sniffed, then plucked the nightshirt off her. All the fastened buttons popped off as he yanked it away and dropped it. She was naked and exposed to his fascinating, oddly lit eyes that made her swoon, and she found it very arousing. He held her in his enormous hand and grabbed her tits in the fingertips of his other hand, pulling her closer to his mouth as he squeezed and primed her massive bazooms for his drinking pleasure. She slid a hand down between her thighs and started to run her fingers up and down between her lips. He leaned forward and started to suck on her breasts. He took both of her enormous mammaries into his yeti mouth. Her perfect Russian tits were being suckled by the same unhygienic mouth she wanted to kiss to see if they had true love. Finally, she was being milked by the yeti again!

She shuddered as she felt milk flow. [Milk that her delectable young orbs wouldn’t even be producing if she was in real life and not the rough draft of a wank tale*, but you came here to see her get milked by the yeti again.] She felt her pussy grow moister and moister [some people think ‘moist’ is an ugly word, try ‘moister’ on for size] as he drank from her impeccable organic baby-bottles like an obscene Baby Huey covered in shag carpeting. He drank and drank, and drank some more. When he stopped drinking, it was only to breathe so he could drink again. He drank until she felt light-headed. He drank more milk than she was humanly capable of producing, because all bets are off when the fucking yeti is involved. When he leaned back and sighed, her tits popped out with a perfect quintuple-bounce, each bounce slightly less bouncy than the last, just like in the dirty Vines men save to their secret folders. She saw a little trail of her milk dribbling down his chin, so she knew he was full, because he was not drinking it.

He held her firmly in one strong hand and plopped backwards onto his big yeti ass in the snow. It flipped her tummy like driving over a hill too quickly, and she giggled. His huge jellyish yeti pecker was erect between his belly and hers, and she was still diddling herself. He lifted her up and shoved her at his cock with no attempt at subtlety and no thought for her pleasure. He missed and his fencepost-sized head butted up against her crotch and thighs. It was an ambiguous attempt at entering her, which is the worst kind of attempt at entering someone, especially if the enterer has an oversized cock (of jelly variety or non-jelly, either way). Lena was able to wiggle her hips enough to point his bright red yeti dickhead at her pussy, which was a serious relief. If he had ended up in the wrong hole, she thought it might kill her by twisting her guts around inside her, like a wooden spoon stirring a stock pot of borscht, if the borscht was being stirred by a hyperactive kid on meth. She at least knew it would hurt like a fucking bitch and probably leave her constipated for a month and that’s never something sexy to look forward to, so most people just don’t think about those things when they’re contemplating anal.

She felt ecstatic when his ridiculously big purplish-pink prick entered her. It filled her completely and stretched her magnificently, and she loved it. He cupped her round ass in his hands and bounced her up and down on his absurd babymaker. His hands were so big that he folded his fingers together and made a little seat for her to rest her perfect little Russian caboose on. She liked it better than a real sex swing, even though it gave a similar weightless, out-of-control feeling that made her gush and want to come.

She bounced on him faster and faster, and she grabbed his face and pulled him closer to try for her true love kiss. He didn’t know what she was doing so he didn’t let her move his face. He let out a little rumble that could have been a threat or a chuckle as she yanked his beard, she couldn’t tell which. She didn’t care either because she was so excited from his hands on her ass and his big cock splooshing and splurshing inside her tight, sopping wetness.

Lena was coming on the yeti’s big cock when she heard two sounds indicating that shit had gone nuts: the she-yeti’s angry roar, and the sound of a truck approaching quickly.


Vlad was driving like an idiot over the new-fallen snow coating the narrow little mountain path, Natasha in the middle between the two men. Jack Li was holding his rifle and tracking the yeti from the door seat.

“I know where I’ve seen you!” Natasha exclaimed suddenly. [fancy tags AND adverbs, squeeze all those sins in!] “You were Jackie Lee! Little Jackie Lee, the barnacle-boy from underground Asian porn movies!”

“No no,” he said nervously. “My name is not Jack Lee, it’s Jack Li. A common mistake.”

“Ohhhhh,” Natasha said.

“Didn’t you just say the same name twice?” Vlad asked.

“Little Jackie Lee had a two-foot cock,” Natasha said. “I was always very, very curious about him.”

He was underage when those movies were made!” Jack Li said. “You should never even have seen those! The government made him record those movies! He needed the money!” Then to Vlad, he said, “It sounds the same to, uh, untrained ears.”

“But aside from being older, you look just like him!” Natasha said.

“I see, we all look alike to you, is that it?” Jack said, glaring at her.

“No…um. No. My mistake,” Natasha said.160-horny-yeti-fucks-sexy-traveller.jpg

“But,” Vlad started, and Natasha backhanded his shoulder.

“Racial!” she hissed, and Vlad’s eyes opened and he shut up.

The tracks turned around a corner and suddenly they were staring at the little lake plateau with the stalagmites. Off in the distance on the surface of the lake, they saw the yeti’s back, sitting on the ground. He looked like a featureless snowdrift that was sort of wiggling rhythmically.

“There he is!” Jack Li said. Vlad hit the accelerator hard. The truck flew over the ice, barely controlled. At the same moment a howling, extended, angry roar pierced the sky.

“Two of them!” Vlad said.

“Oh shit, there it is!” Natasha said, pointing off the right at the she-yeti, who was in a lumbering run toward the fucking yeti sitting on his buttocks. “It must be his mate!”

They were still several hundred feet away from the sitting yeti. They saw perfectly as he stood up and turned toward them, holding Lena’s naked body in one hand, his massive purple erection swinging around before him like a saber, dripping his silvery ejaculate onto the ice. Lena was leaking cum and had that same stupid look on her face as she had when they saw her fall under the spell of his eyes.

The yeti looked at the rapidly approaching she-yeti. He extended Lena in his arm, then punted her like a football. She flew an unbelievable distance very quickly. She rose to ludicrous heights as she sailed like a bullet to the shore. Vlad, Natasha, and Jack Li all three watched as she flew right over the truck and landed at the edge of the lake.

“Go get her!” Jack Li said. He yanked his parka off and put it in Natasha’s lap. “Use this for her,” he said as he opened the door and made a rolling leap out. Under his parka, the red breather that had been in front of his mouth was revealed as just the tip of an enormous, telescoping codpiece that had been hugged to his chest. As Natasha watched him roll, a crusty covering grew from his crotch to quickly cover his entire body from the neck down.

Vlad jerked the wheel hard and spun around to save Natasha. Jack Li got a hard running start, then threw himself face-down onto the lake, zipping across it on his red armored codpiece like his dick was a sled named Rosebud. In no time he was there, face to face with the yeti, and their cocks had barely crossed in battle before the she-yeti arrived on the scene.

Jack Li worked his hips to send his increasingly long cock (which explains why the codpiece telescopes) at the Yeti, simultaneously bolting a bullet into his rifle and firing at him. He shot the yeti and missed. Instead of hitting him in his big white yeti face, he only nicked his big white yeti ear.

Mrs. Yeti hit Jack Li with one of her own ham-sized mitts and he tumbled backwards onto the ice, skidding a few feet before he tried to shake it off.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Vlad were helping butt-ass naked Lena to her feet, then into the coat. She saw the melee across the lake and, as bruised and beat up as she was, still cried, “Vlad! Stop them!”

Vlad looked up and saw the she-yeti send Jack Li flying. He ran to the truck and got his rifle out. He leaned over the warm hood of the truck, lined the sights carefully at the yeti’s center of gravity, exhaled, and squeezed the trigger.

The bullet flew directly at Jack Li’s armored codpiece that was standing up like a giant Devo hat.

“Damn this curse!” Vlad exclaimed, lining up the sights even more carefully at the yeti. The she-yeti was trying to drag him away, so they were standing fairly still. The yeti kept looking between the she-yeti and Jack Li, not knowing what to do. It gave Vlad a chance to take even more careful aim.

“Please guide my aim, gods of my fathers!” Vlad whispered under his breath as he squeezed the trigger again. The bullet went nowhere near where physics demanded it should go, once again knocking Jack Li’s codpiece swaying like a lifebuoy during a tsunami.

“Third time’s the charm!” he said to himself, aiming again.

Natasha grabbed his elbow and pulled him off the hood of the truck. “Stop, you’re going to hurt him! Quit shooting Jack’s dick and shoot the fucking yeti!”

“I aimed at the yeti every time!” he yelled. “I told you I don’t like guns! It’s the curse!”

“Well then just get her in the truck,” Natasha said, disgusted. “I will go save Jack Li.”

As she started trotting her fine Russian booty across the snow, her long blonde hair bouncing in slow motion like this was some kind of fucked up beer commercial, the she-yeti managed to bully the yeti into running away before her. In no time their long yeti legs put them on the horizon, then they disappeared.

“Are you ok?” Natasha asked Jack Li.

“Why did you shoot my dick?” Jack Li asked. “It hurt even through the armor!”

“You ARE Little Jackie Lee, the barnacle-boy, aren’t you? I will keep your secret.” She helped him to his feet and he leaned on her as they walked.

“It is true. Jack Li is my alter-ego. In truth, my secret identity is Jackie Lee, now the Barnacle Man. I need you to keep my secret, so I don’t have to kill you and everyone you love. So thank you, I hate doing that.”

“No problem,” Natasha said.

It was a long drive down the mountain with two wounded, but they got back to camp soon enough. Vlad had proven the curse of the cock shot, Natasha had saved her friend, Jack Li had kept his secret identity secret (for the most part) and been cockshot twice, and Lena had been milked by the yeti again.



Natasha sat between Lena and Jack Li, and Vlad sat opposite her, also between Lena and Jack Li. They were huddled around a fire in a big yurt someone had hastily arranged for them. It was cozy, but they were still dressed warmly, as they had been in and out throughout the day except Lena. She had just been resting.

“My friend,” Vlad said to Jack Li, “I must tell you of my family curse. My bullets only hit in male sexual organs, and I have shot you in your manhood. Because of the curse I can guarantee: you will never have children.”

Jack Li shrugged, and unzipped his parka to the center of his chest. He pointed at his massive telescoping codpiece. “Do I look like I was ever going to have children? Human children? We are friends now Vlad, do not worry. Lena, how do you feel? You were punted quite thoroughly.”

“Oh, I’m better,” she said. “Something about getting milked by the yeti seemed to agree with me, I’m hardly bruised.”

Natasha leaned on her in a half-hug, then leaned on Jack Li in the same way. “Well, now that the adventure is over, what say we have a small orgy?”

Vivek stuck his head in the flap. He was still charred and his glorious mustachios were burnt down to a little Hitler-stache, but his eyes were bright and his turban was impeccable. “I am agreeable to a small orgy!”

“Yes,” Jack Li said, “And tomorrow we will take you to the Yeti milking-camp where I hastily buried poor Radika’s corpse in the snow.”

“Make sure the flap is shut securely though,” Lena said as Vivek entered and started immediately shucking his silky, colorful robes off. “I’m tired of being cold.”

Everyone started stripping themselves and each other. Natasha was fascinated by Jack Li’s codpiece, holding the end of it and scoping it out and back. It seemed to have no limit to how far it could go, and it was always almost as wide as his chest. Vlad and Vivek were gingerly undressing Lena, who was still quite bruised up no matter what she said, but luckily had no broken bones, which was almost a miracle. She could take quite a beating, at least when she was under the yeti’s spell.

Lena was having her first taste of Vivek’s uncut, brown cock, Vlad was squeezing his wife’s naked ass with one hand as he started to ride Lena doggy style. Simultaneously, Natasha said, “How do I get this damn armor off?” to Jack Li as she was trying to get his cock out while he was fondling her bare tits. As soon as these words left her mouth, three men rushed into the yurt, clubbed Jack Li over the head with what looked like a piece of firewood, and drug him away. By the time anyone could get around to look out the flap, there was no trace of them, and Jack Li, or Jackie Lee, was gone.

“That was unexpected,” Vlad said.  Vlad was still slowly fucking Lena from behind.

“Indeed it was, who will help me find my Radika now?” Vivek asked. Lena was still sucking his cock.

“She’s at the first camp,” Natasha said, putting Vivek’s hand on her naked pussy. “We will take you. Poor Jackie, I hope he is ok.”

“He will be fine,” Lena said, finally letting Vivek’s growing cock out of her mouth. “All things considered, this could have ended worse.”

“So true,” Natasha said, leaning down to take a turn sucking Vivek as Lena held his cock out to her.



So ladies and gentleman, we wrap up Book 2 of MILKED BY THE YETI as such. Stay tuned, true believers for more YETI and more MILKING.

If you don’t know, now you now.

Read more Callie Press Smutpunk on Amazon


*a one wank wonder, like a pop song [[[without spoiling any future parts, I think that time is a bit nebulous in Nepal and her lactating is more plausible than a certain author thinks]]

FUN FACT (I’m not saying you didn’t notice, but nor am I saying you did know this. I sure didn’t. Shame on me!):


Milked By The Yeti Again, part 3 By Callie Press | #LPRTG #MrBrtg | @calliepress @mjkingoferotica

Milked by the Yeti (Again) part 3

by Callie Press

A behind the scenes look at Callie’s process and then installment 3 of MILKED BY THE YETI. Natch!

So I looked over the other parts and analyzed my work in the ‘literary’ sense. (Yeah, believe it or not, I have some education.) But that’s for me to know and you to figure out yourself! MJ seemed to find it amusing that I was taking this seriously. So I feel like I need to say, I’m not taking the story seriously, just my craft! Rough drafts are hideous so I desperately try to make my first shot read like a final draft once all my notes get cut out. Hemingway sentences are part of make-up, but I do tend to stick eight or nine of them together with commas and such sometimes. I don’t mind having more than one idea in a sentence, if it flows well (to me). MJ wouldn’t hear of me admitting I have flaws though, and I have to admit he has a point. I’m ok as-is!

Oh and I’m adding this paragraph as I come back to it to restart. Had a several-hours-long break on this installment, the other 2 were written in one frantic sitting each. Today was hectic and more than a little painful, kinda pushed it too much too soon. Oh well!

So I guess…’nuff said! Here’s part 3!

BOOK ONE Installment 1 | Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4

BOOK ONE Installment 1Installment 2 | Installment 3 | Installment 4



Callie’s Milked by the Yeti (Again)

The fucking Yeti took Lena up, up, up where the air was thin. It was a greater distance than before. They came to a large plateau surrounded on all sides by ascending mountain faces. A lake had gathered in this level valley. Everything was white except the bluish ice. Around the edges and even farther out, actually on the lake, were strange, enormous stalagmites. They were also white from the snow, just as the ground and the surrounding mountains. Lena could not look anywhere that did not appear white. She could discern the stalagmites and trees by flecks of color where the snow was thinner, either stone or wood. It was pretty in that Christmas way that only makes you happy when you’re seeing it from inside a warm car or from beside a roaring fireplace.

It was too damn cold for Lena to care how pretty all the white was. All she could think about was the nagging worry that the Yeti, who she was pretty sure she was in love with, would fuck her and milk her and kick her ass down the mountain again. Damn Vlad anyhow for putting that thought in her mind! She knew she could make the Yeti love her. Dogs always liked her, even mean ones, so she knew the Yeti would come around. He would change for her, because this had to be true love.

Suddenly she knew how to make him love her, and why he didn’t already. True love takes a passionate kiss! She determined to make him kiss her as soon as possible.

But then she remembered all the men and women she had kissed for whom she felt no love. Had they wanted her to love them? And her other favorites, Natasha and Vlad—she had certainly shared those true-love spit-swaps with them. What if the Yeti was too much? Was she even worthy of this massive, muscled beast and his leg-sized member’s love? She wasn’t trying to have a harem. Maybe she had used up all the true love a person deserves. Maybe she could never work with anyone except Natasha or Vlad or both of them, even though marriage was a thing of the past.

She got sick of her introspection right as the Yeti hit the edge of the frozen lake, which is right about the time I got sick of writing it. [That’s the kind of shit I edit out the most. MJ says, right at the time I got sick of editing it] The Yeti took a few running steps and posed. His feet hit the ice like skates, one leg forward, the other supporting the bulk of his weight. With very little wobbling or adjusting, they skidded way too god damn quickly across the ice. They were aimed at a stagmite that was busted off halfway up, which rapidly grew as they flew right the fuck at it, covering probably a mile in under a minute. He was skating faster than 20 li () per hour, faster than sixty miles per hour, faster than 97 kilometers per hour; like I said, way too god damn quickly to rely on nothing but Yeti-pads for traction. The stalagmite had been distant so Lena thought it was small, but it was higher than the Yeti when they smacked into it. He grabbed a little handle made of ice on the top of the stalagmite that seemed to exist expressly for the intention of slowing a skate-racing Yeti. He must have fashioned this himself, Lena thought.

They whirled completely around the stalagmite and the Yeti’s body took the brunt of the blow. He lifted his other arm, the one she was in, and timed it perfectly so that when he hit the wall of the stalagmite with his chest and legs, she flew into a hollow on top of it. She rolled on the floor-like surface and hit the back wall, which was just part of the protrusion that had been left to rise higher. The inside of the open-skied, hollowed out stalagmite was a large, snow-covered room. She was cold again.

She could see the Yeti had made an igloo in one corner of the floor here. Since she was bare ass naked and now covered in snow, a little protection from the elements would go a long way. The cold was already getting to her extremities, and even her ass, which had been toasty in the crook of his elbow. She hoped she wouldn’t get frostbite on her extremities, since she had more extremities showing now than ever. She knew this setup was clever because no wind reached her. Since it was too high up to jump from, she was in a kind of little prison.

She was impressed at his cunning and his hands-on skill at making things. It was manly to do, and it implied intelligence to make one’s own tools, like the great ape he surely was. He had made a home for her out of the stalagmite. He built everything without even knowing what duct tape was. She turned to face him and looked into the black field and the dazzling, multi-hued shades-of-red backdrop around his eyes. [And only for a moment did she wonder, ‘Why was this the other way around in the last installment? Can we get a continuity edit?’ Yes, Lena. If we were taking this seriously, you betcha. I had the eyes as “antumbra”, and i’m not even sure I knew what that meant! Sometimes I write a word and then look it up later to find out if I’m right or not.]

Lena climbed achingly to her feet, still a bit shaken by how hard he had tossed her into the makeshift room. She walked toward his big face at the edge of her little prison house. She was cold. She didn’t like it, but at least he was warm. She could warm up if he let her. Even coming closer to him made her warmer, both inside and outside. His eyes had the passionate heat of a volcano that set her aflame in her bald Russian nethers, and brought her big adorable nipples to diamond-hard nubs.

His eyes widened as he saw her nipples enflame and a grin split his big white fucking yeti face. His poor-to-middling teeth shone yellow and brown under the white shag that grew right up to his yeti lips. He reached up and helped himself to her enormous bare breasts with his big white yeti fingers, squeezing and kneading as he had the last time he milked her. Lena knew that she was moments away from being milked by the yeti again.

She smiled back at him and rubbed his face with her hands, moving closer to bring her breasts to his mouth, when a huge roar sounded from far to her left. It was another yeti! His eyes bulged and he inhaled loudly, clearly stunned at the sound. He leaped back a step, completely out of her reach, almost dislodging her from her perch. When he did, she saw that Vlad’s shirt was stuck to the yeti’s hip. The yeti noticed it too, and grabbed it quickly, tossed it onto the floor of her prison, and ran off in the direction of the yell.

Lena could see that way by poking her head beyond the perimeter of the stalagmite wall. Sure enough, after peering hard for a few minutes, she made out another yeti in the distance. She heard another roar and saw her yeti pick up the pace to reach the other yeti.

The other yeti, with yeti-sized tits. A she-yeti.

She saw him approach the she-yeti with his shoulders slumped and his head down. The she-yeti barked in his face and cuffed his head, and he walked ahead of her defeated until they disappeared from Lena’s view.

Lena put the shirt on and went inside the igloo, cold and alone, waiting for her body heat to permeate the isolated air inside. She was sad and cold. Her yeti, her love, had a wife.

Where did that leave Lena? She didn’t have a clue. She was clueless. Literally clueless. Any hint as to what would happen to her would have made it better, because that would at least have been a clue. She sat there, clueless in the cold, and tried to figure out something that could pass for a clue. She didn’t even have a clue about what would pass for a clue.

The igloo felt less cold after her tail-chasing thoughts had gone on for a few hours. She slept.


Vlad and Natasha watched from inside the truck. They were parked in a little grotto of trees and shrubs not far from where they had found Lena and the yeti last time.

“I don’t like this, Natasha,” Vlad said for probably the twentieth time. “It’s been almost 2 hours.”

“Yes, you keep saying.”

“If they got here before us, they’re already in the cave!” he said.

“You passed them, you idiot, we saw him run by with Lena long before we got here, across that gulch,” she said, smiling at him and cupping his cheek.

“What if he wasn’t bringing her here?” he said.

“What, you think he has many houses? He’s a simple beast, I doubt he juggles multiple homes.”

“What if that cave wasn’t his home? He could be smarter than you give him credit for. Maybe it was just one of many milking-caves. A hunt camp.”

“Oh I’m so sick of this conversation,” she exhaled. “’Milking caves.’ Uck. What do you want to do?”

“We should check the cave to be sure, then we should back track to the gulch and find a way across. We should be able to find his tracks, he’s the size of a house.”

She threw one long, slender hand up, then opened the door. “Bring the gun,” she said.

He grabbed a bolt-action rifle from the back seat. “I don’t like guns,” he said, scowling as he slung it over his shoulder.

“I know you don’t,” she said. “And yes, I know why you don’t like guns. But you can’t seriously believe you’re under a curse.”

They met in front of the truck and walked on, Natasha slightly in the lead and to his right.

“You’ve seen it happen, Natasha.”

“Coincidence. Besides, you don’t know if it’s a curse or not. They would have to tell you.”

Her thigh-high boots and his combat boots crunched the deep snow. It was cold. There was only a little breeze.

“No, it’s a curse,” he answered firmly. “My family has a long history of prophets and mystics. My Grand-Mama knew her shit.”

“Then it’s not much of a curse on you. Shut up about it now please, darling. If they’re in there, they’ll soon be able to hear us.” Vlad and Natasha were near the edge of the cave entrance. They noticed a flickering light emanating from the cave entrance onto the snow.

“I already hear you,” said a heavily accented male voice. “I’m armed, stop where you are. Why are you here?”

“We’re looking for our friend, Lena,” Natasha said. “Who are you? Why are you here?”

“Might we come inside and talk? It’s cold out here,” Vlad said.

There was a silent moment, then the man said, “It’s ok. Come in slowly.”

They did. They saw an Asian man in a parka sitting on a trunk-like suitcase in front of a small fire. His hood was down and he had the rifle aimed at them, but resting across his knees. Coming out of the neck of the parka was a breather of some kind, made of what looked like red plastic.  It was a triangle, like a pyramid with one edge directly down the middle facing out perfectly in line with the parka zipper.

“Come, sit,” he said, motioning them in. The three of them likewise made the points of a triangle around the Asian man’s small fire.

“I am Jack Li,” the man said. “I know you two, from the camp. You are friends with the woman who was milked by the yeti.”

“He took her again today,” Natasha said, peering at Jack intensely. “Jack Li. Do I know you? You look so familiar.”

He squirmed. “No, I’m sure you don’t. You must have just seen me around camp. I was waiting for the yeti to return so I could defeat him. I left as soon as you got your friend back to camp safely. I’ve hunted three yetis before this, so I know about yetis. He was not here when I arrived earlier today. I have been here most of the day awaiting his return. If he had come back here, I would have been waiting for him. The yeti did not bring Lena here after he took her again. This must be just a milking cave.”

“I told you,” Vlad said.

“We will have to backtrack to the gorge, then,” Natasha said. “Will you come with us, Jack Li? We saw them across a gorge.”

“I will come,” he answered. “But we should rest here. We can easily catch up tomorrow, with your truck. Their stamina is remarkable, but even a yeti can’t keep up the pace like a truck. Tracking him will be easier in the light, but only because we have a new moon tonight. We will depart at first light.” He stood and produced three blankets from the trunk he was sitting on, handing them one each. He wrapped the other around himself and said, “I’ll take first watch.”

“What do you think?” Vlad said.

“What do you think?” Natasha said.

He pondered a moment, then said, “We’d be warmer if we share our blankets and body heat.”

“Very true,” Natasha said, and that was that. They were a team, at least for now. Nothing would stop them from saving Lena from the fucking yeti tomorrow.






The li (Chinese: , , or 市里, shìlǐ), also known as the Chinese mile, is a traditional Chinese unit of distance. The li has varied considerably over time but was usually about a third as long as the English mile and now has a standardized length of a half-kilometer (500 meters or 1,640 feet). This is then divided into 1 500 chi or “Chinese feet”.

The character combines the characters for “field” (, tián) and “earth” (, ), since it was considered to be about the length of a single village. As late as the 1940s, a “li” did not represent a fixed measure but could be longer or shorter depending on the effort required to cover the distance.[1]

There is also another li (Traditional: , Simplified: , ) that indicates a unit of length 1/1000 of a chi, but it is used much less commonly. This li is used in the People’s Republic of China as the equivalent of the centi- prefix in metric units, thus limi (厘米, límǐ) for centimeter. The tonal difference makes it distinguishable to speakers of Chinese, but unless specifically noted otherwise, any reference to li will always refer to the longer traditional unit and not to either the shorter unit or the kilometer. This traditional unit, in terms of historical usage and distance proportion, can be considered the East Asian counterpart to the Western league unit.



Jack Li may be the infamous two-foot-cockBarnacle Man“. Whether this is true or not has been confirmed as true but it has also been denied.

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!



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.