Violence didn't arrive loudly.
It came disguised as accident.
Fire in the Night
The smell woke me first.
Sharp. Bitter. Wrong—acrid smoke curling thick into the room, stinging my nostrils, coating the back of my throat with the taste of charred grass and malice.
I was on my feet before my mind caught up, the orange glow already licking the walls, casting flickering shadows over four pregnant bodies still tangled in sleep-slick sheets. The heat was immediate, pressing against bare skin, sweat beading instantly along my spine and groin as my cock—half-hard from dreams of slick, milking cunts—twitched at the sudden rush of adrenaline.
"Fire!" I shouted, voice hoarse.
Lian was already moving, shaking the others awake—her heavy breasts swaying free from her open blouse, nipples dark and leaking milk in frantic drops that trailed down her swollen belly as she scrambled up. Meilin was past me in an instant, grabbing buckets, her face eerily calm, strong thighs flexing under her thin night skirt, the fabric riding high enough to reveal the shadowed cleft between her legs where arousal still glistened from earlier touches, her scent sharp and musky even through the smoke.
Too calm.
This wasn't panic.
This was familiarity.
We worked desperately—throwing water, stamping embers, hacking away burning grass. Smoke stung my eyes, my lungs burned, but the heat only sharpened every sensation: sweat pouring down my chest, soaking the waist of my pants until the linen clung to my thickening cock; the brush of Lian's milk-slick breast against my arm as she passed a bucket; Mei's long fingers grazing my thigh as she bent low, skirt hiked to expose the plump, dripping lips of her cunt; Shao's strong body pressing close behind me, her leaking nipples dragging across my back, hard and wet.
Slowly… painfully… the fire died.
The field survived.
Barely.
From the shadows beyond the fence, I heard footsteps retreating—quick, deliberate.
Not animals.
People.
The Line Is Crossed
At dawn, the damage was clear.
Blackened earth. Scorched seedlings. Weeks of effort nearly lost in one night—the air still thick with smoke and the faint, lingering sweetness of milk that had dripped freely during the chaos, streaking all our skin in glistening trails.
Villagers gathered—not to help, but to watch, eyes lingering too long on the way the women's thin clothes clung damply to swollen bellies and heavy, leaking breasts, nipples stiff and visible through fabric, thighs streaked with sweat and slick.
Some avoided our eyes.
Others didn't bother hiding their satisfaction, gazes raking hungrily over Meilin's strong form—skirt plastered to her ass, outlining every curve where her pussy lips pressed plump and flushed against the material.
"Unfortunate," someone muttered.
"Fire spreads easily this season."
Meilin stood beside me, arms crossed beneath her full breasts, pushing them higher, milk pearling slowly at the tips as anger and adrenaline made her body ache with need.
"They want you to react," she said quietly, voice low, thighs shifting with a soft, wet sound as her cunt clenched on nothing. "Anger gives them permission."
My hands shook—not from fear.
From restraint—and the throbbing pulse in my cock at the sight of her, fierce and fertile, body radiating heat.
A Risky Plan
We didn't have time for caution anymore.
Ten days until tax collection. Less now.
Meilin laid out her plan that afternoon, drawing lines in the dirt with a stick—bending low so her skirt rode high, exposing the smooth backs of her thighs and the glistening seam of her pussy, swollen lips parted slightly, slick dripping slowly down one leg in the day's heat.
"Fast-growing crops," she said, voice steady but husky. "High yield, short cycle. Risky, but possible."
"And if it fails?" I asked, cock straining painfully now against my pants.
She looked up at me, eyes dark, nipples rigid against her blouse. "Then we lose anyway."
Lian knelt beside us, listening carefully, one hand resting on her rounded belly, the other unconsciously brushing over a leaking nipple, milk beading and falling in a slow drop that landed on the dirt between us.
"There's an abandoned irrigation trench near the old road," she added softly, thighs pressing together with a faint squelch. "People avoid it—say it's cursed."
Meilin's lips twitched, breath catching slightly. "Curses don't scare me. Officials do."
That was the first crack in her armor—her chest rising faster, the scent of her arousal sharpening in the warm air.
Meilin's Past
That night, as we prepared tools by lamplight, Meilin finally spoke.
The glow painted golden light over sweat-cooled skin and the faint sheen of dried milk on all their breasts—Lian's heavy and leaking steadily, Mei's long torso arched as she shifted, Shao's strong form tense, Meilin's high and firm, nipples dark and stiff through thin fabric.
"I was once registered to a minor official," she said, voice flat, but her thighs parted subtly as she sat, skirt riding high enough to reveal the dark curls and swollen lips still glistening from the day's tension. "He took land from villagers, then blamed 'mismanagement' when crops failed."
Her eyes darkened, hand drifting unconsciously to her lower belly where new life kicked gently.
"I made the numbers work. He took the credit. When taxes rose and people starved, they punished me. Not him."
I clenched my jaw, cock throbbing at the raw vulnerability in her voice, the way her nipples tightened further as memories and need mingled.
"They branded me difficult," she continued, breath hitching. "Uncooperative. A woman who questioned orders."
She laughed softly, without humor, thighs shifting again with a soft, wet sound.
"That's why no one chose me. Authority doesn't like mirrors."
Silence followed, thick with the scent of milk and arousal.
Then Lian spoke gently, reaching out to brush Meilin's arm, fingers lingering on sweat-damp skin. "You're safe here."
Meilin didn't answer.
But she didn't leave the room either—her gaze dropping to my lap where my erection strained visibly, pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
[Bond Progressed: Shared Vulnerability – Meilin]
Trust +2
Household Coordination Increased
A Quiet Moment
Later, when the others slept, I sat outside, staring at the ruined edge of the field—the air cool now, carrying the faint scent of ash and distant rain.
Lian joined me, wrapping a shawl around my shoulders without a word, her swollen belly pressing warm against my side, one heavy breast grazing my arm, milk pearling at the dark nipple and dripping slowly onto my thigh.
"They tried to burn your resolve," she said softly, voice husky, hand drifting to rest high on my thigh—inches from where my cock throbbed thick and leaking.
"Did it work?"
She shook her head, fingers tracing slow circles that sent fire straight to my balls. "You're still here."
Her hand rested over my heartbeat—steady, grounding—then slipped lower, cupping the bulge in my pants, squeezing gently until I groaned.
"You don't have to be strong alone," she whispered, lips brushing my ear, breath hot and sweet with milk. "Let us carry it too."
I closed my eyes, cock pulsing painfully in her grip.
For a moment, the world wasn't war or taxes or hatred.
It was warmth.
Breathing.
Shared resolve—and the slick, aching promise of four pregnant bodies waiting to wrap around me, milk me dry, and remind me exactly what we were fighting for.
[Household Harmony Increased]
Mental Fatigue Reduced
Ashes and Seeds
The village thought fire would make us shrink.
Instead, it hardened something—resolve, need, the throbbing certainty that every threat only drove us closer, bodies and hearts entwined tighter.
Tomorrow, we would dig the abandoned trench.
Plant risky seeds.
Stake everything on cooperation.
They had crossed a line.
And unknowingly—
They had activated something far more dangerous than anger.
A household that refused to break—fierce, fertile, and ready to claim every inch of what was ours, night after sweat-soaked, cum-drenched night.