Copyright (c) 2019,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Thursday, January 17, 2019

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.

A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: thegift.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com

story_codes: M-Creature/g(11) pre-teen girl, supernatural, cons

story_intro: He had lived for eons and was, as always, on the prowl. One very young girl had no idea of how her innocence and purity stoked his eternal hunger.


story_language: English




The Gift

Written by madvlad


	She was young and ripe, her sex slick around his thrusting cock as he pounded inside of her. With every thrust, the girl gave short barks of lust; her small, plump breasts jiggling as her body took the unnaturally large member. Although the smooth lips of her cunt grabbed tightly at his shaft, some of the blood from her ruptured cherry still leaked through. One more piece of her childhood had been removed, perhaps the last, judging by the sparse patch of fine hairs sprouting on her pubis.

	Her innocence, too, had largely been gone before he took her. She had been easy to have, too eager to become a whore even if she didn't think it in those terms. Perhaps it was more of the mystery of sex that intrigued her. Still, it lessened the taste as he fed on her psyche.

	He hadn't bothered counting the centuries of his life. Today, he took the name Jonathan; altering his appearance when he hunted  to be reminiscent of the teen glam boys that the entertainment machines churned out with remarkable efficiency.

	All too often, the results were the same - the girls he needed, those on the cusp of or in early puberty - we less than completely satisfying. He craved those who were innocent, yet gave themselves freely not to satisfy their own lust or curiosity but to simply give. He rewarded them in various ways although they had never given themselves with the expectation of payment.

	He remembered the first unwilling one he had taken; a girl of twelve in Babylonia whose father, in need of money, offered her chastity. She had been pure in body and spirit, yes, but her fear and revulsion over the act had soured the flavor of her taking.

	It was a tricky thing to find one pristine and yet willing to give to the giving's sake. Most were either wanton or too fearful. This one now was of the former - a physical treat, yes, but that was all. 

	His burst of semen made the girl jerk, setting off an orgasm. It was a sufficient tradeoff for his own climax and the meager psychic meal she had provided him. He did nothing to alter her memory as he would appear to be a thirtyish man instead of  teen within a minute after he left her nude and with her legs spread while his jism leaked from between them. Now she knew what sex was about - good for her.

	He was still hungry.

	Amelia shifted uncomfortably as she tugged at her skirt. It had been one of Celia's that she had outgrown. Of course, Amelia's older sister had liked showing off as much as possible by the time she was ten - trying to look older with make-up and clothes. Amelia had been seven, then, and had thought her sister was being silly. Now she was eleven to Celia's fourteen and did not care to have boys ogling her legs.

	But Celia and her friends had insisted that Amelia's legs were worth ogling - trim and smooth and the perky butt that was set above the back of her thighs was not too bad, either. It was rare for Amelia to receive any praise from her sister, but this embarrassed her as much as the usual teasing did, if not more. 

	The local mall had "teen nights" the first Friday of every month, with a DJ, dancing, and refreshments in the main areas while some stores stayed open for special sales. The event also attracted some of the younger kids, tweens, who wanted to hang out and be seen with the older kids.

	Celia and her gang were regular attendees and Amelia knew they usually gained access to the prohibited alcohol that some of the older boys snuck in and Celia had made some not-so-subtle references as to how she and her pals had managed to get a share. Amelia was aghast and could not hide her reaction, much to the amusement of the other girls.

	Recently, Celia had insisted that Amelia join them. She told their father and step mother that she was just trying to be a good big sister like they lectured her to be. Amelia wanted no part of this but didn't want to feel ungrateful, so she relented. 

	However, Amelia insisted that she would not wear make-up and wore her brown hair slightly parted on the side and hanging long down her back like she preferred. Celia rolled her eyes but allowed this before presenting Amelia with her skirt and blouse. 

	The blouse had been a disaster when Amelia tried it on.

	"It's too small," she complained. "I can barely button it in front."

	"That's the idea," Celia said. "But I think you can fit more under it even when it's buttoned."

	"Huh?" Amelia asked as Celia's friends snickered. 

	Celia held up some tissues. 

	"God's gift to training bras, kiddo. If you get enough of these in there, boys will think you're in an A-cup."

	Amelia was horrified. First, it wasn't right to take the Lord's name in vain although Celia had made an art out of getting Saturday night sleepovers at someone else's house or getting sudden maladies to get out of going to church. In the end, their father and stepmother understood that dragging the oldest girl to church was more trouble than it was worth. Perhaps age and wisdom would change Celia's mind in the future. So every Sunday, Amelia attended with her parents and two younger half-sisters.

	Secondly, the whole bra thing had been embarrassing from the start, even though her stepmother had been very patient and understanding when she took the girl shopping for her first training bras. But putting things in there, against her bosoms, to make them look bigger? Absolutely not!

	Celia shrugged when Amelia put her foot down.

	"Hey, we were just helping you out so the guys looking for jailbait would notice. I guess you'll have to settle for child molesters."

	Amelia chose one of her own blouses, a more modest one, although Celia forbade her to keep the top three buttons closed. Amelia was terrified that her bra might show but it remained covered - just barely.

	While Celia had allowed Amelia her small victories with the makeup and blouse, she refused to give up on the skirt. Before they left for the mall, she pulled at the hem in a vain attempt to get it lower. 

	"What am I going to do?" she whined to her stepmother, Jane.

	"Try not to die of embarrassment," the woman joked. "That would spoil the night."

	Despite her distress, Amelia laughed before hugging her stepmother. Some of the girl's tears wet through the woman's shirt but she did not mind. Jane loved both of her stepdaughters, even if Celia was a constant trial. Amelia, on the other hand, had always been a treasure and delighted in being a big sister to Astrid and Bridgette while Celia tried to pretend the two little ones didn't exist.

	"Here," Jane continued as she handed something to Amelia. "Your father and I discussed it and we thought this was a suitable time."

	Amelia looked at the object in her hand. It was a cell phone. Not one of the fancy ones, but a phone nonetheless.

	"If you need to, just call and we'll pick you up if you want to leave before nine."

	One of them was going to pick Amelia up then while a parent of one of Celia's friends would get the other girls later. Jane hoped that having an "escape option" with the phone would put Amelia at ease so that she could enjoy the evening a little more, even if it wasn't her kind of thing.

	At least Celia and company had gotten bored with Amelia and left her alone. Seated at a table, she nibbled on some chips and sipped at a 7Up. Every so often, she'd check on her skirt which, as she sat, came perilously close to showing her panties. Even when it came to underwear, Celia had an opinion and tried to get her sister to wear a pair of her old high-cut panties. But Amelia stuck to her regular type - tonight's were white with yellow trim - but still had no intention of letting anyone else know what colors she wore.

	"Hi. Uh, can I sit here?"

	Startled, Amelia looked up to see a boy perhaps a year older than she was. He didn't seem creepy or intent in learning about her underpants or unstuffed training bra. He just looked like a regular boy with slightly tousled hair and wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt jacket over a t-shirt. Like Amelia, he seemed a little out of place.

	"Oh, sure," she said, gesturing to the other three empty chairs. 

	The boy sat at one to one side of her and set his cup of Coke down. Looking a little sheepish, he spoke again.

	"Were you dragged here, too?"

	"Yes!" Amelia replied, glad to find a kindred soul. 

	"Yeah, I'm just here visiting relatives and they said I just had to come here with some of my cousins. I don't know where they are now but it's okay."

	"Mmm," Amelia empathized as she sipped her drink.

	"My name's Jonathan," the boy said.

	Amelia gulped her mouthful soda, embarrassed to have forgotten her manners.

	"Amel-," she started before the sudden swallow made her burp. 

	She clapped her hand over her mouth in time but the boy laughed. It was an easy laugh, with no malice in it. Amelia giggled in spite of herself.

	"Amelia," she finally managed.

	"That's a nice name - better than Amel."

	Now they both laughed but then suddenly they had company. Celia had sat down at the table with her three friends smirking behind her.

	"Oh, thank God you're here," Celia said to Jonathan with a grave expression. "My sister, here, is suicidal."

	Jonathan looked surprised while Amelia spluttered.

	"It's true," Celia insisted. "She wants to die in a year, when she's twelve. Then she can die a virgin like her blessed hero, Saint Agnes."

	Celia's friends whooped and Celia grinned nastily as she got up. Cackling, the four girls sauntered off.

	"I don't..."Amelia squeaked. "I don't want to die. I..."

	Jonathan just shook his head.

	"I know, they're just being..." He was about to use a stronger word but thought the better of it. "Jerks. And I know about Saint Agnes - I don't know if I could have been that brave in her place."

	Amelia's face softened in gratitude. Jonathan understood about Saint Agnes - patron saint of girls, virgins, et cetera. In fact, he had even been in Rome during her martyrdom. While never meeting her directly, he had seen the girl, persecuted as a Christian and refusing the advances of would-be suitors, when she had been forced to march naked in public to a brothel where she would be repeatedly debauched.

	But, according to rumors of the day that matched the later legends, sudden calamities befell each man who tried to violate the girl. When the soldiers tried to burn her instead, the wood wouldn't light. Finally, young Agnes died with her virtue intact when an officer opened her throat with a sword. It was said that his arm withered afterward. 

	Jonathan could have told Amelia about everything he knew and had seen concerning Saint Agnes, but that would take a great deal more explaining. 

	"My sister, Celia, and her friends made me come here," Amelia said. "I'd rather be home with my little sisters."

	"Really? Are they around your age?"

	"Oh no. Astrid is three and Bridgette is two. But they are so sweet. My dad and stepmom got married a few years after my mom died and I just love Astrid and Bridgette. I kind of wish I was their mom but I love my stepmom, too."

	Jonathan kept observing her more closely than she could understand. Yes, Amelia was a physically pretty girl - not gorgeous, but pretty. But he could see how radiant she was in other ways and his hunger stirred.

	"I don't have any brothers or sisters, but...hey, could we go someplace where it's quieter? I can hardly hear myself."

	Jonathan looked over at the fat DJ who was trying to act hip when he announced the songs. But the man's focus was intently geared to the young teens and tweens as they danced. Jonathan's focus was even more intent, reading the man's lascivious desires. At home, the DJ had a dutiful mail order wife from Laos, a slight woman who looked at young as some of these girls. But the man's appetite was insatiable.

	Jonathan could relate to that although his own appetite was deeper and more refined. 

	As Jonathan and Amelia walked down one of the mall's branches, Amelia was vaguely aware of the diminishing sounds behind her. Jonathan was working on that, sealing them off from sight and earshot of anyone else although it looked to Amelia as if everything was normal.

	"So tell me about your little sisters," he requested. "It sounds like you really love them. I want to know everything."

	The last word was spoken with a push of his powers. It wasn't meant to force the girl into anything. He wanted her to feel comfortable in revealing everything about her. That was the key to the taste - when the girl openly shared.

	Amelia spoke about things she had never told her friends. This boy was so attentive and kind and she enjoyed sharing all of this with him. 

	Nearly two years after her father remarried, Astrid was born. Amelia was delighted with the miracle of babies and Celia, a precocious eleven, took pleasure in telling her younger sister in graphically lewd detail just how babies were made. 

	Despite this shock, Amelia was instantly devoted to the small pink bundle that arrived home in Jane's arms. Although technically Astrid was her half-sister, Amelia just considered her a full sister and did everything she could to help. She rocked the baby, sang lullabies, read stories, and even learned how to change diapers. It became quickly evident to her parents that Amelia loved the baby as her sister and not just as a doll for playing. Celia, on the other hand, did her best to avoid Astrid whenever possible.

	Astrid was breastfed and one afternoon, Amelia came to the nursery to attend to her crying sister. A quick check showed that Astrid had a clean diaper but during the pauses between cries, the baby made sucking movements with her lips in a vain effort to draw nourishment. Amelia was about to call for Jane before she wondered if this was something she could do for her sister by herself. 

	At eight years of age, Amelia didn't understand all of the elements of female biology (despite Celia's rude attempts otherwise). Determine to be a full, assistant mother, she stripped off her shirt and cuddled Astrid to her chest. The infant rooted at her tiny nipple for a moment before giving up and resuming her complaints. 

	At this time, Jane entered the room and observed her shirtless, trouble-free stepdaughter holding the baby and was a bit confused. Amelia looked at her apologetic.

	"I'm sorry. I tried to feed her like you do, but..."

	Acting like she was simply rubbing her mouth, Jane fought to keep from laughing. That would devastate poor Amelia. Instead, she said down next to the girl and opened her shirt before taking Astrid to her breast. The infant quickly quieted and got down to business.

	"I guess I wasn't doing it right," Amelia said softly.

	Jane was adept y now at cradling Astrid with one arm and used the other to hug her stepdaughter to her side.

	"No, Sweetie, it's not that simple. You don't have the right equipment, yet."

	Amelia stared at her bare chest and understood. She wasn't big there like a woman was. Sensing Amelia's distress and embarrassment without seeing her face redden, Jane stroked the little girl's bare back to comfort her.

	"Hey, before long, we'll be mixing breast milk and bottles. I could sure use your help with the bottles."

	"Good," Amelia replied. "I just wish I could do what you do. You always look so happy and Astrid likes it."

	"One day, you'll be a mother and then you will do this. It is a remarkable thing - a bond that's hard to describe."

	Amelia nodded. She knew she shouldn't feel envious, but she did. But it wasn't her stepmother's fault and she re-made her personal vow to be the best big sister ever.

	Jonathan said nothing as Amelia told of her abortive attempt at breast-feeding. She had been so open about it that he was able to accurately visualize and feel everything from the sight of the half-naked eight year-old who lacked any mammary development to the comfort of Jane's hug and her hand on Amelia's back. 

	For reasons she couldn't explain, Amelia liked telling this to a boy she had just met and didn't feel any shame in it. Then she told him of more recent developments.

	It occurred just a week ago. It was a Friday night and Celia was at a friend's house while her parents, trusting the eleven year-old, allowed Amelia to sit for her younger siblings while they enjoyed a dinner out and a movie. They had their cell phones and, as usual, they made sure a nearby neighbor would be available should the need arise.

	While Amelia, mercifully, did not have to share a room with Celia, Astrid and Bridgette, only a year apart and the best of friends, shared a room that a was riot of pink color and Disney characters. After settling the little girls in their beds, Amelia left to take a shower.

	She was drying herself when she heard the high-pitched wail of distress. One of the girls! She didn't know which one until she heard a thumping at the bathroom door and Astrid's voice.

	"'Melia, Bridgette's crying!"

	Dropping the towel, Amelia tossed her bathrobe on and barely tied it as she rushed to the room without trampling Astrid who was keeping ahead of her. Bridgette was sitting up and bawling. Although well-versed in her sister's toddler-speak, Amelia had difficulty understanding the words with the crying thrown in. 

	Bridgette was mostly potty-trained; wearing panties during the day but pull-up diapers at night just in case. These were dry and Amelia didn't see any sign of injury, so she took a guess.

	"Did you have a bad dream?"

	Snuffling, the little girl nodded. As Amelia lifted her from the bed, her robe came undone in front. She paid it no mind as she was alone with her little sisters and had bathed with them plenty of times. Amelia sat in the upholstered rocker-glider in the corner of the room and held Bridgette in her lap.

	The two year-old's soft cheek was hot and flushed from her bawling as she rested it against Amelia's bare chest. Astrid also climbed into Amelia's lap and leaned against her big sister as well. This was not uncommon as one sister often emulated the other. Rocking slowly, Amelia stroked her baby sisters' backs as they snuggled. She could feel them relaxing as Bridgette's distress and Astrid's excitement over the event ebbed away.

	When Bridgette moved her head against the small, gentle swell of her big sister's blooming breast, her lips encountered something they had known a little more than a year ago when she had stopped her partial breastfeeding. The toddler instinctively knew it was a source of comfort and she opened her mouth to take the eleven year-old's nipple in her mouth. With a loud exhalation of contentment, the child started to suck.

	Grunting in surprise, Amelia looked down to see what her baby sister was doing. By now, Amelia knew quite well that she couldn't produce any milk, yet Bridgette was pulling at her immature breast. Amelia expected a quick complaint from the girl but Bridgette seemed perfectly happy. Then Amelia remembered other conversations with Jane where her stepmother explained how the child also took comfort from nursing, even if their hunger was sated.

	Gazing as the two year-old's soft lips pursed and flexed as she sucked, Amelia felt her nipple swell in her sister's oral grip. Astrid, seeing what Bridgette was doing, decided that she wanted to as well. With a soft moan, Amelia felt her other nipple get taken and now sat with two tiny sisters taking comfort at her budding mounds.

	Amelia's tummy felt warm and fluttery as she kept rocking. Experiencing a measure of fulfillment at the intimate contact, she never said a word. Within a few minutes, Bridgette's mouth opened as the tot fell asleep. Astrid was not that far behind and only mumbled as Amelia carefully slid her from her lap onto her feet. The three year-old stood, half asleep while Amelia laid Bridgette in her bed. Then Astrid was led to hers and tucked in. With both little girls sound asleep, Amelia slipped out of the room. 

	In the light of the bathroom, the preteen looked at her tiny breasts. The nipples were stiff and shone with saliva. Touching them, she felt a shiver - they were unusually sensitive. The waves in her belly seemed to reach lower for a moment. After she slipped into her pajamas, her chest returned to normal. Amelia was both relieved but somehow a little disappointed.

	Twice more over the next week, the little girls wanted access to Amelia's chest. An unspoken rule emerged between the three of them that this was something only between sisters. It wasn't a naughty thing; just something special that they shared.

	Jonathan understood the gentle sensuality of the experience, even if Amelia did not know her own body that well. But through her openness, the creature felt it all, along with the soft, plump, little girl lips as they sucked and the silkiness of their light blonde hair, a gift from their mother, as they innocently nursed at Amelia's barely sprouting mammaries. 

	"Thank you," he said. "I would ask one more thing of you. Something for you to give me that I need."

	Despite being surrounded by other people, they were unnoticed. To Amelia, the light around them seemed odd - a bright gray of another world. But everything now was centered around Jonathan, this boy she had just met and to whom she had shared her deepest, dearest memories. Now he wanted something more from her and she asked him what.

	If she refused his request, they would walk back to the table and Amelia would never know what she had already revealed to him. She was everything he wanted but he would not have her by force or by trickery. To give him the purest taste, it had to be offered unconditionally. Looking into her eyes, he said simply, "Everything".

	Everything.

	That stretched to eternity and was far more than Amelia could comprehend. But she understood that he knew exactly what everything was and that would be all she was. It was daunting, even terrifying as if giving it would have her tumbling into an endless abyss. Selfish preservation was at the tip of a simple refusal.

	"Yes," she replied.

	While the queer light remained steady, everything else swirled - the air and rolling mist of every color and none. The boy that was Jonathan was changing; growing and morphing into a being that frightened and fascinated.

	"I am neither angel nor demon," Jonathan spoke in a voice that no longer was that of a boy yet was recognizable to Amelia all the same.

	The air was fluttering as if made of wings. It washed over her and she caught a glimpse of her training bra as it skittered away on inviable currents. Sliding her hand over her slim hip, she felt no cloth there but was not discomforted by her nudity. Everything was offered to him and only flitters of instinct told her what that might be.

	Large, clawed hands grasped her slender torso; the thumbs meeting over the girl's flat belly while the fingers came together in the indentation along the middle of her back. Although the strength was tremendous, no claw broke her skin. Lowering his head, the creature that was Jonathan licked the girl's left breast, the one that a two year-old had been the first to taste.

	Amelia wanted to apologize for the smallness of it - that she needed tissues if she wanted to make her training bra completely full. But her thoughts were read before she could utter them.

	"They are perfect," he spoke as his long tongue coiled around the little mound and squeezed it as the tip caressed the pink nipple as it arose. 

	With her arms dangling loosely, Amelia lay calmly in the creature's grasp as her young breasts were lovingly sampled. One hand left her midsection and the other still held her easily. When she felt a finger stroking the inside of one thigh, the flutters she had experienced when her sisters nursed became sharper and more focused in a certain area. She felt no sense of trepidation as she knew what would happen.

	"You can touch me there," she whispered. 

	When the fingers clamped around her hairless quim, Amelia shouted wordlessly from the force of the jolt inside her. She was instantly wet there, heating and welcoming the invasion to come. Jonathan lifted her until the head of his massive cock was poised at the little slit of her sex. While her chest had taken its first unsteady step toward womanhood, she was still completely childish between her legs. To the creature, she was incredibly, achingly ripe for the plucking.

	Pushing the girl down, Jonathan's turgid prick plowed into the eleven year-old's bald pussy, sundering her maidenhead. Groaning, Amelia wriggled at the tearing she felt but then relaxed as she was penetrated. The girl's virgin tunnel stretched in a way it couldn't have done except for this giving. Feeling the snugness of the taut, prepubescent cunny flesh clench around his member like oiled satin, Jonathan opened her all the way up to her cervix.

	And still, he pressed inward, making her channel elongate as the preteen took all of him into her body without damage. Now the copulation became savage as the roughened surface of his cock scraped and rubbed the grotesquely expanded sex tube. With every thrust, Amelia convulsed in what became a continuing orgasm. 

	As he protected her physical form, Jonathan also protected her from the surging climax that lasted for hours within the timespan of the private world that just the two of them inhabited now.  Had he not, the girl would have been driven mad. Now, Amelia only knew nirvana as the creature slammed in and out of her tight, drenched pussy. Heated juices poured over her spread, hairless vulva as the monstrous cock worked in and out. But it was her pure energy radiating from her essence that fed the creature. Jonathan felt drunk and bloated as he took it in until he finally graced her with massive surges of his boiling semen that seared and filled her prepubescent baby chamber. Although the sperm would go unused in this vessel, there remained an imparted energy that would endow small graces upon the children she would one day grow inside her body.

	Amelia had given him everything, yet she would not suffer any loss, save for the memory of what happened. He set her down, unconscious now as her memories became sealed. Laying his hand over her smooth pubis, Jonathan did a simple thing for him, restoring an insignificant bit of membrane. Having been her first had been what he wanted but now she would have the symbol of chastity to give to the one she chose for marriage. 

	Peering into her future, a power he could only do so with murkiness, he saw her in a bridal gown of virginal white, awaiting the man she loved as he strode down a flowered aisle. That night, she would discover the passion that had been induced when she was eleven and received a gift for what she had given. Well, only a fragment of that passion as the full effect of it would consume unprotected mortals. 

	Jonathan smiled; a curious feature on his fanged mouth. Perhaps another gift would be in order as well. He moved his hand again.

	Jane saw Amelia standing by the curb in the prearranged spot. It was nine o'clock and her stepdaughter had not called in a panic. Standing beside her was a boy about her age, perhaps a little older but not by much. And were they...? Yes, they were holding hands!

	Jane stopped and waited, not wanting to interrupt them with her car horn. But Amelia finally saw her and bade her new friend goodbye. After she got in, Jane waited until she was buckled in before pulling away. 

	"Soooo," the woman said. "Who was that nice young man?"

	"Jonathan. He's only visiting here," Amelia said wistfully.

	"He must be special - he was holding your hand."

	"Yes," Amelia sighed dreamily, holding the hand he had with her other as she relived that contact.

	"Well, let's not tell your father you were holding hands with a boy. He might have a heart attack."

	Amelia laughed, feeling a deepening bond with her stepmother. Then she wondered if she and Jonathan might have eventually kissed. Oh! That was too much but she'd never forget that hand as they talked about...whatever it was they talked about.

	Jane glanced at her stepdaughter and saw the dreamy expression on her face. The woman chuckled - the girl got her first case of puppy love and it was a doozy! Well, good for her.

	It was Sunday night and Amelia's parents were watching a football game downstairs in the living room. Celia was in her room with earbuds in place while her musical selection blotted out the other inhabitants of the house.

	Amelia was content as she once again had her little sisters in their pajamas and ready for bed. She always enjoyed this part; considering it a privilege rather than a chore.

	The bedroom door was closed and only a Sleeping Beauty nightlight illuminated inside. Amelia was going to turn a small lamp on to read a bedtime story when Astrid touched her arm.

	"Can I suck?" she asked.

	"Pwease?" added Bridgette, learning the power of good manners.

	Amelia sat down in the rocker and opened her blouse before the tykes climbed into her lap. Soft little hands gently touched her diminutive breasts while two tiny mouths embraced her nipples. While the preschoolers happily pulled on her flesh, Amelia started to rock.

	"Mmm," the little ones murmured together as they suddenly started to suck harder. 

	Amelia's eyes widened as she felt something different in her breasts. They were flowing. 

	Astrid muttered a faint protest when Amelia drew her head back. Spotting a small white bead of liquid on her nipple, Amelia took it on her fingertip and tasted. It was warm and sweeter than what came from the store but there was no denying that it was milk. She sat in wonder and Astrid returned to her feeding. 

	Amelia's tummy flutters coalesced into a glow that settled more deeply inside her body and the girl understood that this was something that meant she was growing up. This was impossible yet she had been bestowed the ability to make what her baby sisters now drank. 

	She didn't question it and only rocked in contentment while the little girls snuggled and nursed.



Copyright (c) 2019 madvlad

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm



























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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