The Lustful Isles had always been infamous—white beaches where priestesses moaned under moonlight, where pearls were plucked from cunts instead of seashells, where every wave was said to carry the taste of pussy nectar.
Now the Milk Flood came for them.
It swept across the ocean, golden and thick, riding tides that swallowed whole fleets. Sailors screamed as their ships cracked, their mouths forced open by the glowing water until they drowned not in salt, but in seed. Yet they did not die—instead, their bellies swelled as if impregnated, bursting with glowing spawn that crawled onto the decks and mounted whatever hole they found.
By the time the tide reached the Isles, the beaches were already soaked white. Palm trees bent low, dripping with sticky milk as their fruits swelled round and ripe, each one splitting open to reveal wet cunts that moaned when the wind touched them.
