Where Others Wouldn't Dig
The trench was exactly where Lian said it would be.
Half-buried under weeds and superstition, it ran parallel to the old road—stone-lined, narrow, and forgotten. The water still flowed faintly beneath the debris, cool and steady, like a vein that hadn't dried up yet, its quiet murmur mixing with the heavy scent of damp soil and wild herbs crushed underfoot.
"This was built before the last war," Lian said, brushing dirt from a stone, her fingers leaving faint streaks on the rough surface. She bent low, skirt stretching tight across the plush curve of her ass, thighs parted for balance, the fabric clinging damply to swollen pussy lips that glistened in the morning light, milk already leaking from her heavy breasts in slow beads that soaked through her blouse and traced warm paths down her swollen belly.
"Drowned?" I asked, cock thickening traitorously at the sight, pressing hard against my linen pants.
She shook her head, straightening slowly, breasts swaying heavily, nipples dark and rigid. "No. Scraped his leg badly. But fear doesn't care about facts."
Meilin knelt immediately, testing the soil, the water flow, the slope—strong thighs flexing, skirt riding high enough to bare the firm undersides and the shadowed cleft where her own slick had begun to gather, sharp and musky in the warming air.
"It's perfect," she said, voice low and rough. "If we clear it today, we can irrigate by night."
I looked at the overgrown trench, then at the sky, cock throbbing fully now at the raw determination in her eyes, the way her nipples strained against damp fabric.
This was our gamble.
Digging Against Rumors
We worked from morning to afternoon.
Sweat soaked through our clothes, pouring down necks and spines, soaking waists until linen clung transparently to skin. Hands blistered. Backs screamed. Every bend and lift made breasts sway and leak—milk dripping steadily from four sets of dark, stiff nipples, streaking bellies and thighs in glistening trails that mixed with the slick of arousal seeping through skirts.
No one from the village helped.
Some stood at a distance, watching, eyes lingering greedily on the way Mei's long back arched as she dug, skirt hiked to expose the elegant curve of her ass and the plump, dripping lips of her cunt; on Shao's strong arms flexing, milk arcing from her breasts with each swing; on Meilin's powerful thighs shifting, slick shining where her pussy pressed wetly against fabric.
When the first trickle of clean water flowed into the redirected channel, cool and clear, Lian clasped her hands together, eyes shining, thighs pressing together with a soft, wet sound as relief and need mingled.
"It's alive," she whispered, voice husky. "The land's alive."
Meilin allowed herself a small, rare smile, chest heaving, nipples rigid and leaking now, milk pearling and falling in slow drops onto the dirt.
"Land never dies," she said, breath catching. "People just stop listening."
Seeds That Don't Wait
We planted aggressively.
Fast-growing greens. Hardy legumes. Crops that sacrificed taste for speed and volume—fingers sinking into cool, wet soil, bodies brushing constantly: breasts grazing arms, hips bumping thighs, the constant scent of milk and slick thickening the air until every breath felt heavy with unspoken hunger.
"It won't be pretty," Meilin warned, kneeling to press seeds deep, ass presented high, skirt clinging to the swollen lips of her cunt, slick dripping slowly down one thigh.
"And counting is what matters," I replied, cock aching painfully at the sight, pre-cum soaking steadily through my pants.
That night, the water flowed steadily, moonlight reflecting off its surface like liquid silver. For the first time since the fire, I felt something close to hope—and the throbbing certainty that tonight we would celebrate with bodies pressed close, milk and cum mingling once more.
Common Ground
As we rested by the trench, the cool evening air kissing sweat-slick skin, Lian handed Meilin a cloth for her hands—fingers brushing deliberately, lingering on calloused palms.
"You work like someone who expects punishment," Lian said gently, voice low, her leaking nipple brushing Meilin's arm as she leaned close, milk dripping warm onto skin.
Meilin stiffened, thighs clenching with a faint squelch. "I expect consequences."
"There's a difference," Lian replied, hand drifting to rest on Meilin's thigh, inches from where slick glistened. "Punishment assumes guilt. Consequences just… exist."
Meilin studied her for a long moment, breath quickening, nipples tightening further until milk beaded and fell.
"You're not naive," she said finally, voice rough.
Lian smiled, fingers tracing slow circles on Meilin's thigh. "And you're not cold."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
It was understanding—charged, electric, the air thick with the scent of milk, earth, and four aching cunts begging to be filled.
[Household Synergy Unlocked: Complementary Roles]
Efficiency +5% when spouses collaborate
The Village Head Arrives
Two days later, the village head came.
He didn't come alone.
He came with a clerk.
And a scroll.
He walked the edge of our field slowly, eyes sharp, noting the revived trench, the dense rows of young green shoots pushing through blackened soil—his gaze lingering too long on the women's sweat-damp forms, milk-soaked blouses clinging transparently to heavy breasts, thighs streaked with dirt and slick.
"Impressive," he said at last. "Or reckless."
"Both," Meilin answered calmly, standing tall, nipples rigid and leaking visibly, the faint outline of her swollen pussy lips pressing against her skirt.
He raised an eyebrow. "You speak freely."
"She speaks accurately," I said, cock twitching at her defiance.
The village head studied me, then laughed softly.
"You've stirred the water," he said. "Complaints have reached me. Fire. Sabotage. Claims of hoarding."
"And?" I asked.
"And I see no hoarding," he replied. "Only work."
He unrolled the scroll.
"This land," he said, tapping the parchment, "was listed as marginal. You've improved it. That changes its status."
My heart pounded.
"Which means?" I asked carefully.
"Which means you'll be taxed as productive land," he said.
Then, after a pause—
"Next season."
Relief hit me so hard my knees nearly gave out—and my cock throbbed fully, pre-cum leaking at the thought of claiming them all again in victory.
Authority Recognized
As the village head left, the system flared into full clarity.
[Authority Recognition Granted – Village Level]
Effect:
• Minor disputes involving your household will be reviewed before action
• Sabotage against your land will carry penalties
• Tax evaluation delayed by one season
Permanent Bonus:
Land Stability +10%
I exhaled slowly.
This wasn't power over others.
It was protection from being crushed—and the freedom to fuck them deep and slow night after night without fear.
After the Dust Settles
That night, we ate better than we had in days.
Still simple food—but earned, the air thick with the scent of warm grain and the sweeter undercurrent of milk leaking freely from four sets of heavy breasts.
Lian poured tea carefully, her movements relaxed, blouse open to reveal dark, stiff nipples dripping steadily onto her swollen belly. Meilin leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed, the tension in her shoulders finally easing—thighs parted subtly, skirt riding high enough to bare the glistening seam of her cunt, slick shining in the lamplight.
"They won't bother us for a while," Meilin said, voice husky.
"No," Lian agreed, leaning close enough that her breast brushed Meilin's arm, milk dripping warm between them. "They'll watch instead."
I looked at them—two women so different, now quietly aligned, bodies ripe and aching, cunts wet and ready.
And I realized something.
This household wasn't surviving because of a system.
The system was responding because we were becoming a household—bodies entwined, milk and cum shared freely, every threat only driving us deeper into each other's slick, clutching heat
A Night of Earned Rest
The lamp burned steady and low, its flame casting a warm, golden pool across the small room—flickering over sweat-cooled skin still streaked with the day's dirt and milk, over four swollen bellies rising and falling in slow rhythm, over breasts heavy and leaking in thin, steady streams that soaked the woven mat beneath us.
We had eaten. We had washed in the cool trickle from the new trench, water sluicing over ripe curves and taut muscle until every inch of us glistened. Clothes had been loosened or discarded entirely—blouses hanging open, skirts pushed high or abandoned, leaving nothing but moonlight and lamplight to trace the changes pregnancy had wrought: fuller hips, darker nipples, the faint blue veins beneath translucent skin, the constant, aching readiness that came with carrying new life.
No one spoke of sleep.
Lian moved first, as she often did—gentle, deliberate. She crawled across the mat toward me, swollen belly swaying slightly, breasts hanging heavy and full, milk pearling at the dark tips before falling in slow droplets that pattered softly onto my thigh. She settled astride my lap without hurry, thighs spreading wide to accommodate her belly, the slick heat of her cunt brushing my hardening cock through the thin linen still clinging to my hips.
I groaned low as she rocked once—just once—coating the fabric in her wetness, the scent of her arousal blooming sharp and sweet in the warm air.
Meilin watched from the edge of the mat, strong back against the wall, thighs parted just enough that lamplight caught the glistening seam of her pussy—lips swollen and flushed deep pink, slick dripping slowly down the inside of one powerful thigh. Her nipples were rigid, milk beading steadily, falling in rhythmic drops that traced warm paths over the curve of her breast and belly.
Mei and Shao lay curled together nearby, long limbs entwined. Mei's elegant fingers traced lazy circles over Shao's leaking nipple, coaxing more milk to flow, while Shao's hand drifted between Mei's thighs—slow, teasing strokes through soaked folds that made soft, wet sounds in the quiet.
Lian leaned forward, lips brushing my ear. "We earned this," she whispered, voice husky, breath hot against my skin. Her fingers worked my ties loose, freeing my cock—heavy, flushed dark, veins pulsing, the head already slick and shining with pre-cum that dripped in a steady thread onto my stomach.
She wrapped her soft hand around the base and stroked once—long, deliberate—spreading the wetness up the shaft until my hips lifted into her grip. Milk dripped from her breasts onto my chest in warm pulses, mingling with sweat and pre-cum as she guided me to her entrance.
She sank down inch by slow inch.
The heat of her was staggering—velvet walls plush and swollen from pregnancy, fluttering around my length in rippling waves that dragged a ragged groan from my throat. She stayed there a moment, savoring the stretch, inner muscles clenching deliberately until my balls drew tight.
Then she began to move—slow, deep rolls of her hips that ground her swollen clit hard against my pelvis with every downward stroke. Milk leaked steadily now, dripping onto my chest in warm rivulets that ran down my sides. The wet slap of her ass against my thighs was soft at first, growing louder as she rode me with patient, building rhythm.
Meilin's breath hitched.
She crawled forward—slow, inevitable—until she knelt beside us. One strong hand cupped Lian's leaking breast, squeezing gently until milk arced in a thin stream. She caught it on her tongue, moaning low at the taste, then leaned in to latch onto the nipple—sucking hard, drawing milk in greedy pulls that made Lian cry out softly, cunt clamping down around my cock in fierce waves.
Mei and Shao joined without words.
Mei straddled my chest facing Lian, offering her own leaking breasts to Lian's mouth. Lian took one eagerly—tongue swirling, sucking hard as milk flooded her mouth, hips stuttering, walls fluttering wildly around me. Shao moved behind Lian, strong hands spreading her ass slightly to watch my cock disappear into her dripping cunt over and over, fingers occasionally dipping to stroke where we joined—gathering slick and milk, bringing it to her own mouth with a moan.
The pleasure built like the day's slow labor—relentless, earned.
Lian came first—body trembling, back arching as her cunt spasmed in long, rolling waves, milking me relentlessly. Hot release soaked us both, dripping down my balls in thick pulses as she ground down hard, taking me deeper.
I followed moments later, hips bucking up into her as I spilled—thick, pulsing ropes of cum flooding her pregnant channel until it overflowed, creamy white leaking out around my base with every slow thrust.
They didn't stop.
Meilin took Lian's place gently, turning reverse—strong ass spreading wide as she sank down onto me, walls gripping tight and hot, fluttering wildly from the first touch. Mei and Shao turned their mouths to her leaking breasts, sucking hard as milk flowed freely, while Lian recovered enough to kneel beside us, fingers circling Meilin's swollen clit in tight, deliberate strokes.
One by one, they rode me—slow, deep, reverent—bodies trembling through climax after climax, cunts milking load after load until the mat was drenched beneath us with milk, cum, and slick.
When the lamp finally dimmed to embers, we lay in a sweat-and-milk-soaked tangle—four pregnant bodies curled around me, bellies pressed warm together, breasts leaking softly onto shared skin, cocks softening slowly inside the cradle of whichever slick, fluttering cunt had claimed the last release.
Hands drifted lazily: over taut, kicking bellies; over breasts heavy and tender; over thighs trembling with aftershocks.
Outside, the new crops drank deeply from the revived trench.
Inside, we drank from each other—slow, endless, utterly sated.
The village could watch all they wanted.
We had earned this night.
And every night to come.