Minos, King of Crete, asked Poseidon, God of the Sea, to send him a bull. The gift of this bull from the sea would be proof that the Olympians sanctioned his kingdom.
In fact, Poseidon sent the bull, of a flawless pure white, to be sacrificed. But Minos did not sacrifice the bull - fascinated by its beauty, he decided to use it as a stud to improve his herd.
Pasiphae, wife of the king, saw the bull and was so enchanted by the majestic animal that she became passionately obsessed with it. Her carnal desire, otherwise incomprehensible, was due to the divine intervention of Poseidon, who intended to punish Minos for his disobedience.
As often happens in Greek myth, the divine will worked on human frailties, and the Mouth of Madness fell from above on the mortals.
Ovid, in "Metamorphoses", describes with sublime prose the contrasting feelings that worked on the young queen: her initial hesitation to touch the mighty animal, her admiration for its immaculate coat and its massive muscles, its calm gaze that invites her to dare, until she reaches out her hand to caress its chest and face ...
The passion, perverse, but derived from her pure and innocent love for the noble spirit of the bull, led to Pasiphae begging Daedalus, her husband's court architect, to build a device to make possible coupling between a woman and a bull. And so it was - he built a wooden cow, perfect in its proportions and covered with leather, so as to deceive the animal, and concealed Pasiphae inside.
Pasiphae enjoyed the coitus and became pregnant; from this union was born the Minotaur, a mythological being with the body of a man and the head of a bull.
Over the centuries the Minotaur came to represent an extreme synthesis of nature and man, the volatile merging of instinct and reason, resulting in the most unholy of forbidden fruit - he is sentenced to live imprisoned in the Labyrinth, hidden from the view of all, and placated every year with the gift of seven Athenian boys and seven girls.
This dual essence melds the strength and sensuality of the animal with the lustful nature of man, but in the Minotaur himself there is and there can be no guilt, because its animal nature excludes it from the sphere of self-awareness and responsibility.
At the end of the myth, the humans are punished for their sins: Minos, for disobeying Poseidon, Pasiphae for having mated with a bull, Daedalus for defying the gods with his genius.
But the only one who will pay with his life will be the Minotaur, whose only fault is, in truth, its fusion of man and animal.
Lisa closed the heavy book with a bang, and noted the cover: Commentary of the Ancient Greek Myths, Franz Hoffmann, Dresden 1907.
They were in the library of the villa, a large hall with high ceilings, walls covered with shelves and cabinets full of old books. Lisa had not even opened a book since leaving school, and she had no intention of starting now, but the days seemed endless.
"You know the nerve of him, that prick of a professor? Pasiphae, he called me."
The altered tone of her voice brought a smile to the face of Milena, who lay sprawled on a couch half-listening to her friend as she ate a large platter of breaded veal.
"Hey, and what about me? If you are Pasiphae, who am I?"
This time it was Lisa's turn to smile.
"You are the beautiful creature of nature that seduced me, Bohm is Poseidon, Daedalus Gunther. All we're missing is the Minotaur arriving in the flesh, and then we'll have everybody."
"That’s our story, alright, but around here the only animal is still me." Milena shoveled another cheese-laden slab of veal into her mouth, downed it in a couple of bites, and immediately took one more. “I'm the big fat cow, out to pasture.”
"Actually, for the past couple of days I've started to feel like a cow, too ..."
The topheavy blonde had began treatment a few days before, and she immediately noticed that everything seemed designed to be humiliating: medications at fixed times; intravenous drips; tests; the heavy meals, gallons of water she had to drink each day, tablets of gastroprotectors. It was like being in a real dairy barn. Lisa had also started sessions of "stimulation", with the same equipment she had seen Milena hooked up to, the first time she had been in her room.
To date, the only result for Lisa was that her beautifully oversized breasts had lost their softness and sensual malleability and become more turgid, so that she continuously had the sensation of impending menstruation, and her nipples were permanently hard, almost hurting her.
For all of them, the days passed slowly. Lisa couldn't wear a bra anymore because her mammaries were so painfully swollen. Having to get around without wired cups supporting her enormously heavy breasts, was exhausting and extremely uncomfortable. She hadn't gone all day without wearing a bra since she was eight years old, and now found it extremely disconcerting that every time she attempted to move, those gigantic sagging breasts got in the way. The offices at the hunting lodge were not ready yet, and the only distraction was the occasional long horse ride. Of course Milena was there, but Lisa didn't get to see that much of her enormous inamorata. The mammoth woman had to be milked three times a day, over an hour each session just for the pumping, with additional time required to set her up and attend to her afterwards. Milena ate constantly, but also had to eat three long, substantial meals each day, and she was in deep, exhausted sleep much of the rest of the time. So at best Lisa saw her for a few hours, when she was stuffing herself, yawning, or fretful over her grossly swollen mammaries, and not giving Lisa the full attention she craved.
After the dinner at which Milena so peremptorily shouted at the professor, Lisa had begun to see the object of her desires in new ways.
There was now no doubting the truth of what the doctor had said – Lisa was feeling a noticeable attraction to Milena, any time of day, just from being in her presence. It had become a genuine compulsion, a strong need for physical contact. But the desire that continually inflamed Lisa didn’t disappear after any bodily union; the embrace made her feel, for just a few minutes, completely and pleasantly devoid of any energy. For just a few minutes. Then the sight of that body, those blimp-like masses of striated flesh, her amazing, intoxicating milkbags, turned her on again with lust.
And it was equally true that Milena now continually desired to be looked at, touched, satisfied.
The thing that Lisa found even more exciting, was that Milena was never bold or overt in expressing those desires for attention - when she invited glances, she did it with no more than a suggestive tilt of her torso that turned her bosom profile; she would only ask, almost reluctantly, for assistance in moving her unwieldy body; yet she made each sortie with the absolute confidence that came from knowing she would never be refused. To get a reaction, and the attention she craved, it was enough for Milena to show herself half-naked, to make a gesture, to throw a glance ... sometimes not even that much was required.
The effect was apparently the same on other women, judging by how Elizabeth had swooned for her in a few seconds, that night earlier, right before the eyes of all of them.
At the moment, for example, Milena was sitting sideways on a chair, a leg over its brocaded arm, her elbow resting on the other arm. As she often did now, she casually palpated one huge breast, absent-mindedly testing the consistency of the gland and gauging how full she was. Lisa, at that movement alone, felt all her senses come alert. But Milena didn’t go any further, evidently judging that her gross udders could go on swelling a bit longer. She squirmed momentarily, took a deep breath and tried to shift one mammoth pendulosity to a more comfortable position on its pile of pillows.
Instead, she said: "So Pasiphae succeeded in arranging for herself to be mounted by a bull ... an experience that certainly opens up new horizons ... right?"
Lisa smiled. "Okay, under the spell of the gods, but to me that seems a little excessive, in the way of sex, don't you think?"
"Well, considering you don’t even get it on with men ..." Milena paused a moment to think, then:
"But why? I mean, after that episode in your childhood, didn’t you ever have any … well ... with a man?"
"No, never."
Lisa began to talk about her first months at Gunther’s nightclub, and how she achieved satisfaction from being admired, extreme satisfaction, very close to sexual orgasm. That seemed to disconcert Milena.
"My God, you've got it basically still wrapped and beribboned. Me … I've given it away quite a lot, sometimes for money, more often for nothing. Not that I particularly liked doing it, in fact. When you're young you do certain things just because you think it is normal to do them. But, my dear, you have a problem, and you'd better address it."
"No, no, it’s okay: I have no problem," said Lisa, tossing her head. "I'm young, healthy, I made a lot of money having these grotesque fat tits - it's all fine."
She lit a cigarette, inhaled quickly and blew small puffs up at the ceiling, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate. Then she spoke softly.
"You know how the saying goes: those who are content, have ..."
"Well, baby, there are ways and ways to enjoy something. Not all orgasms are equal.”
Their eyes met, and Lisa felt the intensity of Milena's gaze - those dark brown eyes seemed to shine with a light of their own.
"You see before you someone who has committed so many mistakes that I could write a book like that one, myself - but the greatest mistake of all has been to 'content' myself with a lousy situation, when I could have done better. Now Gunther has given me a chance, and you can be sure that this time I won’t be satisfied with the crumbs. And as for you ... Lisa, don’t settle for 'content' – being content with yourself is pretty poor."
She rose from her armchair, panting at the effort, and leaned forward as her milk-laden colossi dragged at her shoulders. Milena had trouble walking at any time; when her udders were completely full-blown, as they were now, she could barely stand up.
"And now, I'm going to let them squeeze my tits, as planned," she said, lumbering unsteadily to the door; before closing it she turned to Lisa.
"Come see me tonight, my Pasiphae. Wait until I've been milked enough that I can move, and I'll teach you that all fucks are not equal. Moooo!"
She mesmerized her with that imitation of a cow mooing, as she walked slowly to the laboratory, the incredibly full and bloated breasts swaying in front of her.
In fact, Poseidon sent the bull, of a flawless pure white, to be sacrificed. But Minos did not sacrifice the bull - fascinated by its beauty, he decided to use it as a stud to improve his herd.
Pasiphae, wife of the king, saw the bull and was so enchanted by the majestic animal that she became passionately obsessed with it. Her carnal desire, otherwise incomprehensible, was due to the divine intervention of Poseidon, who intended to punish Minos for his disobedience.
As often happens in Greek myth, the divine will worked on human frailties, and the Mouth of Madness fell from above on the mortals.
Ovid, in "Metamorphoses", describes with sublime prose the contrasting feelings that worked on the young queen: her initial hesitation to touch the mighty animal, her admiration for its immaculate coat and its massive muscles, its calm gaze that invites her to dare, until she reaches out her hand to caress its chest and face ...
The passion, perverse, but derived from her pure and innocent love for the noble spirit of the bull, led to Pasiphae begging Daedalus, her husband's court architect, to build a device to make possible coupling between a woman and a bull. And so it was - he built a wooden cow, perfect in its proportions and covered with leather, so as to deceive the animal, and concealed Pasiphae inside.
Pasiphae enjoyed the coitus and became pregnant; from this union was born the Minotaur, a mythological being with the body of a man and the head of a bull.
Over the centuries the Minotaur came to represent an extreme synthesis of nature and man, the volatile merging of instinct and reason, resulting in the most unholy of forbidden fruit - he is sentenced to live imprisoned in the Labyrinth, hidden from the view of all, and placated every year with the gift of seven Athenian boys and seven girls.
This dual essence melds the strength and sensuality of the animal with the lustful nature of man, but in the Minotaur himself there is and there can be no guilt, because its animal nature excludes it from the sphere of self-awareness and responsibility.
At the end of the myth, the humans are punished for their sins: Minos, for disobeying Poseidon, Pasiphae for having mated with a bull, Daedalus for defying the gods with his genius.
But the only one who will pay with his life will be the Minotaur, whose only fault is, in truth, its fusion of man and animal.
Lisa closed the heavy book with a bang, and noted the cover: Commentary of the Ancient Greek Myths, Franz Hoffmann, Dresden 1907.
They were in the library of the villa, a large hall with high ceilings, walls covered with shelves and cabinets full of old books. Lisa had not even opened a book since leaving school, and she had no intention of starting now, but the days seemed endless.
"You know the nerve of him, that prick of a professor? Pasiphae, he called me."
The altered tone of her voice brought a smile to the face of Milena, who lay sprawled on a couch half-listening to her friend as she ate a large platter of breaded veal.
"Hey, and what about me? If you are Pasiphae, who am I?"
This time it was Lisa's turn to smile.
"You are the beautiful creature of nature that seduced me, Bohm is Poseidon, Daedalus Gunther. All we're missing is the Minotaur arriving in the flesh, and then we'll have everybody."
"That’s our story, alright, but around here the only animal is still me." Milena shoveled another cheese-laden slab of veal into her mouth, downed it in a couple of bites, and immediately took one more. “I'm the big fat cow, out to pasture.”
"Actually, for the past couple of days I've started to feel like a cow, too ..."
The topheavy blonde had began treatment a few days before, and she immediately noticed that everything seemed designed to be humiliating: medications at fixed times; intravenous drips; tests; the heavy meals, gallons of water she had to drink each day, tablets of gastroprotectors. It was like being in a real dairy barn. Lisa had also started sessions of "stimulation", with the same equipment she had seen Milena hooked up to, the first time she had been in her room.
To date, the only result for Lisa was that her beautifully oversized breasts had lost their softness and sensual malleability and become more turgid, so that she continuously had the sensation of impending menstruation, and her nipples were permanently hard, almost hurting her.
For all of them, the days passed slowly. Lisa couldn't wear a bra anymore because her mammaries were so painfully swollen. Having to get around without wired cups supporting her enormously heavy breasts, was exhausting and extremely uncomfortable. She hadn't gone all day without wearing a bra since she was eight years old, and now found it extremely disconcerting that every time she attempted to move, those gigantic sagging breasts got in the way. The offices at the hunting lodge were not ready yet, and the only distraction was the occasional long horse ride. Of course Milena was there, but Lisa didn't get to see that much of her enormous inamorata. The mammoth woman had to be milked three times a day, over an hour each session just for the pumping, with additional time required to set her up and attend to her afterwards. Milena ate constantly, but also had to eat three long, substantial meals each day, and she was in deep, exhausted sleep much of the rest of the time. So at best Lisa saw her for a few hours, when she was stuffing herself, yawning, or fretful over her grossly swollen mammaries, and not giving Lisa the full attention she craved.
After the dinner at which Milena so peremptorily shouted at the professor, Lisa had begun to see the object of her desires in new ways.
There was now no doubting the truth of what the doctor had said – Lisa was feeling a noticeable attraction to Milena, any time of day, just from being in her presence. It had become a genuine compulsion, a strong need for physical contact. But the desire that continually inflamed Lisa didn’t disappear after any bodily union; the embrace made her feel, for just a few minutes, completely and pleasantly devoid of any energy. For just a few minutes. Then the sight of that body, those blimp-like masses of striated flesh, her amazing, intoxicating milkbags, turned her on again with lust.
And it was equally true that Milena now continually desired to be looked at, touched, satisfied.
The thing that Lisa found even more exciting, was that Milena was never bold or overt in expressing those desires for attention - when she invited glances, she did it with no more than a suggestive tilt of her torso that turned her bosom profile; she would only ask, almost reluctantly, for assistance in moving her unwieldy body; yet she made each sortie with the absolute confidence that came from knowing she would never be refused. To get a reaction, and the attention she craved, it was enough for Milena to show herself half-naked, to make a gesture, to throw a glance ... sometimes not even that much was required.
The effect was apparently the same on other women, judging by how Elizabeth had swooned for her in a few seconds, that night earlier, right before the eyes of all of them.
At the moment, for example, Milena was sitting sideways on a chair, a leg over its brocaded arm, her elbow resting on the other arm. As she often did now, she casually palpated one huge breast, absent-mindedly testing the consistency of the gland and gauging how full she was. Lisa, at that movement alone, felt all her senses come alert. But Milena didn’t go any further, evidently judging that her gross udders could go on swelling a bit longer. She squirmed momentarily, took a deep breath and tried to shift one mammoth pendulosity to a more comfortable position on its pile of pillows.
Instead, she said: "So Pasiphae succeeded in arranging for herself to be mounted by a bull ... an experience that certainly opens up new horizons ... right?"
Lisa smiled. "Okay, under the spell of the gods, but to me that seems a little excessive, in the way of sex, don't you think?"
"Well, considering you don’t even get it on with men ..." Milena paused a moment to think, then:
"But why? I mean, after that episode in your childhood, didn’t you ever have any … well ... with a man?"
"No, never."
Lisa began to talk about her first months at Gunther’s nightclub, and how she achieved satisfaction from being admired, extreme satisfaction, very close to sexual orgasm. That seemed to disconcert Milena.
"My God, you've got it basically still wrapped and beribboned. Me … I've given it away quite a lot, sometimes for money, more often for nothing. Not that I particularly liked doing it, in fact. When you're young you do certain things just because you think it is normal to do them. But, my dear, you have a problem, and you'd better address it."
"No, no, it’s okay: I have no problem," said Lisa, tossing her head. "I'm young, healthy, I made a lot of money having these grotesque fat tits - it's all fine."
She lit a cigarette, inhaled quickly and blew small puffs up at the ceiling, watching the smoke swirl and dissipate. Then she spoke softly.
"You know how the saying goes: those who are content, have ..."
"Well, baby, there are ways and ways to enjoy something. Not all orgasms are equal.”
Their eyes met, and Lisa felt the intensity of Milena's gaze - those dark brown eyes seemed to shine with a light of their own.
"You see before you someone who has committed so many mistakes that I could write a book like that one, myself - but the greatest mistake of all has been to 'content' myself with a lousy situation, when I could have done better. Now Gunther has given me a chance, and you can be sure that this time I won’t be satisfied with the crumbs. And as for you ... Lisa, don’t settle for 'content' – being content with yourself is pretty poor."
She rose from her armchair, panting at the effort, and leaned forward as her milk-laden colossi dragged at her shoulders. Milena had trouble walking at any time; when her udders were completely full-blown, as they were now, she could barely stand up.
"And now, I'm going to let them squeeze my tits, as planned," she said, lumbering unsteadily to the door; before closing it she turned to Lisa.
"Come see me tonight, my Pasiphae. Wait until I've been milked enough that I can move, and I'll teach you that all fucks are not equal. Moooo!"
She mesmerized her with that imitation of a cow mooing, as she walked slowly to the laboratory, the incredibly full and bloated breasts swaying in front of her.
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