The village head returned three days after the harvest.
This time, he didn't come to inspect.
He came to talk.
A Proposal with Sharp Edges
He sat at our table, sipping the tea Lian poured, eyes moving calmly around the room—taking in the repaired roof, the stored vegetables, the quiet order of the house, and the four heavily pregnant women whose blouses clung damply to milk-heavy breasts, nipples dark and rigid, leaking in slow, steady streams that traced glistening paths down swollen bellies and soaked the edges of their skirts.
"You've changed the flow of things," he said at last. "Not just your land. The village."
"That wasn't our intention," I replied carefully, cock stirring traitorously at the sight of Meilin shifting in her seat—strong thighs parting slightly under the table, the faint, wet sound of slick-coated flesh audible only to me, her scent sharpening in the warm air.
He smiled. "It rarely is."
Then he placed a rolled document on the table.
"I want you to manage the abandoned plots near the old trench," he said. "Officially. Temporarily."
Meilin's eyes narrowed instantly, nipples tightening visibly through her thin blouse, milk pearling faster at the tips.
"And unofficially?" she asked, voice low and rough, thighs pressing together with a soft, slick sound that sent heat straight to my groin.
The village head didn't bristle. He seemed almost amused.
"Unofficially, I want someone competent keeping those lands productive so disputes don't land on my desk."
I understood immediately.
This wasn't generosity.
It was delegation of risk.
"If we accept," I said slowly, cock throbbing fully now at the way Lian leaned forward to refill his cup—her heavy breast brushing the table's edge, milk dripping warm onto the wood in rhythmic drops. "we'll be watched."
"Yes," he agreed. "And protected."
A pause.
"And resented," Lian added gently, her hand drifting unconsciously to her swollen belly, fingers splaying wide as a kick rippled beneath the skin, thighs shifting with a faint squelch of arousal.
The village head inclined his head. "That too."
Jealousy Goes to Court
Before we could answer, trouble arrived on its own.
The jealous household—led by the same woman who had accused us before—filed a formal complaint.
The charge:
Concealment of production and unlawful land expansion.
It was absurd.
It was dangerous.
Meilin read the notice once, then folded it carefully, her strong fingers trembling just slightly—nipples rigid and leaking visibly now, milk soaking dark patches through her blouse as anger and adrenaline made her body ache with need.
"They're forcing a ruling," she said. "If we lose, we're fined. If we win…"
"They'll hate us openly," I finished, cock pulsing painfully at the raw fire in her eyes, the way her thighs clenched together, slick glistening where her skirt rode high.
Lian placed the notice into a box with the others, one hand resting on her leaking breast, milk pearling and falling in slow drops onto the floor.
"Hate is lighter than fear," she said. "We can carry hate."
Choosing Our Roots
That night, the system returned—not urgently, but patiently.
The Household Development Tree unfolded again.
Three branches swayed gently, waiting.
🌱 Sustenance
🛡️ Protection
❤️ Bond
I looked at the coming days.
Legal disputes.
New land.
Hostile neighbors.
"I vote Protection," Meilin said immediately, voice husky, thighs parted subtly so lamplight caught the glistening seam of her cunt, slick dripping slowly onto the mat. "Legitimacy first. Everything else follows."
Lian considered it, then nodded, her hand drifting to a leaking nipple, pinching gently until milk arced in a thin stream. "Protection lets us breathe."
I confirmed the choice.
[Branch Selected: Protection]
Unlocked:
• Dispute Defense Bonus
• Record Authority Enhancement
• Early Warning for Hostile Actions
The system didn't glow.
It settled.
Like a foundation being laid—and like the slow throb in my cock at the promise of claiming them all again tonight, bodies ripe and aching with the weight of everything we carried.
Night Without Walls
Later, after the house grew quiet, I found Meilin outside, sitting near the trench, moonlight silvering the water and the taut curve of her swollen belly.
She didn't look up when I approached, but her thighs shifted restlessly, skirt rucked high enough to bare the plump, flushed lips of her cunt, slick shining in the cold light.
"You could have refused the village head," she said. "Less risk."
"Less future," I replied, cock throbbing fully now at the sight of her—strong, fertile, milk leaking steadily from her breasts in warm streams down her thighs.
She was silent for a long moment.
Then she spoke, softer than I'd ever heard her.
"I was punished once for doing things correctly. I learned not to stand out."
I sat beside her, not touching, though the scent of her arousal was thick in the cool air, sharp and musky.
"We'll stand together," I said. "If someone comes down on us… they do it knowing we're not alone."
She finally turned to me.
Her expression wasn't guarded now.
It was tired—and hungry, nipples rigid and leaking visibly, thighs parting further as if inviting the heat we both needed.
"…Thank you," she said.
Just two words.
But they carried weight—and sent a fresh pulse of blood to my cock at the raw vulnerability in her voice, the way her slick glistened brighter in the moonlight.
[Bond Strengthened – Meilin]
Trust Threshold Reached
Effect: Coordination under pressure improved
A breeze passed through the reeds. Somewhere, an owl called.
Meilin looked back at the water, breath quickening, milk dripping faster now onto her thighs.
"I don't trust systems," she said quietly.
I smiled faintly. "Neither do I."
"But," she added, leaning just a little closer—her breast brushing my arm, nipple dragging stiff and leaking across my skin, leaving a warm trail of milk—"I trust results."
And for the first time—
She leaned just a little closer, thighs parting further, the slick heat between them radiating in the cold night, promising that when we returned inside, her strong body would finally take everything I had to give, slow and deep and unrelenting.
What Comes Next
By morning, we would face the village court.
Decide whether to accept new land.
And step fully into the village's attention.
We were no longer just surviving.
We were visible.
And visibility, I was learning, was its own kind of power—especially when shared with four women whose ripe, aching bodies reminded me every night exactly what power felt like buried balls-deep in slick, milking heat
The village court wasn't a building.
It was a circle of stones beneath an old banyan tree—roots thick as coiled ropes, branches wide enough to shelter half the square, the air heavy with the sweet-rot scent of fallen figs and the constant, underlying musk of four heavily pregnant bodies radiating heat in the morning sun. Disputes were decided there because nothing could be hidden in the open.
By the time we arrived, half the village was already watching.
Some curious.
Some eager.
Some sharp with expectation, eyes lingering too long on the way Lian's milk-soaked blouse clung transparently to her massive breasts, nipples dark and elongated, leaking in slow, steady streams that traced glistening paths down her swollen belly; on Meilin's strong thighs flexing under her skirt, the faint wet patch at the apex betraying how slick she already was from the tension.
The jealous household stood opposite us, faces tight with practiced outrage.
The village head sat at the center, the clerk beside him, scrolls laid out for all to see.
"Begin," the village head said.
Accusations and Records
They spoke first.
Claims of hidden grain.
Of expanded land.
Of favoritism from officials.
Each accusation landed with a thud meant to sway the crowd, eyes flicking greedily over Mei's long back arched slightly as she shifted weight, skirt riding high enough to reveal the plump, flushed lips of her cunt glistening in the sunlight; over Shao's strong arms crossed beneath leaking breasts, milk pearling and falling in rhythmic drops onto the dusty ground.
Then Meilin stepped forward.
She didn't raise her voice.
Didn't argue emotion.
She presented records.
Yields. Storage. Tax equivalents. Water usage from the trench—measured, documented, signed by the clerk who had inspected us days earlier. Her voice was low and steady, but her thighs pressed together with soft, wet sounds only I could hear, nipples rigid and leaking visibly through her blouse as adrenaline made her body ache with need.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Facts were boring.
But undeniable.
An Unexpected Ally
Just as the jealous household tried to pivot—claiming intimidation, manipulation—
A voice rose from the back.
"That trench saved my field too."
An older man stepped forward, limping slightly.
"Water reached my plot after they cleared it. I didn't ask. They didn't charge."
Another voice joined.
"And they shared ash for pests."
"And seed cuttings."
The crowd shifted.
This wasn't defense.
This was testimony—and the air thickened further with the scent of milk leaking freely from four sets of heavy breasts, slick gathering between thighs as relief and lingering tension coiled low in pregnant bellies.
The village head raised a hand, silencing the square.
The Decision
He stood.
"The complaint is dismissed," he said plainly.
"No concealment. No unlawful expansion."
Relief washed through me—but he wasn't finished.
"Furthermore," he continued, eyes sweeping the crowd,
"The abandoned plots near the old trench will be reassigned."
My breath caught.
"To this household," he said, nodding toward us.
"On a provisional basis."
Gasps. Whispers. Open resentment.
"They have demonstrated competence," the village head went on,
"And restraint. The village needs productivity more than pride."
The jealous household said nothing.
They couldn't.
System Confirmation
The moment the ruling was struck, the system appeared—clear and firm.
[Protection Branch – Advancement]
Legal Standing Secured
Dispute Outcome Bias: Favorable (Village-Level)
New Task Unlocked:
Manage Multiple Plots Without Harmony Loss
Meilin exhaled slowly, thighs clenching with a faint squelch, milk dripping faster now from her breasts in warm streams down her belly.
"Now it begins," she murmured, voice husky.
Too Much Land, Too Little Time
By afternoon, we stood at the edge of the newly assigned plots.
They were rough. Uneven. Neglected—but the air carried the rich scent of untamed earth, and every bend to inspect the soil made breasts sway and leak, milk splashing warm onto dirt, slick seeping through skirts as bodies brushed constantly in the close heat.
"This doubles our workload," I said, cock throbbing at the sight of Lian kneeling low, skirt stretched tight across her plush ass, swollen pussy lips outlined damply against fabric.
Meilin nodded, nipples rigid and leaking visibly. "And triples scrutiny."
Lian looked over the land quietly, one hand resting on her kicking belly, the other brushing a leaking nipple through her blouse.
"We'll rotate labor," she said. "No one burns out. No plot is neglected."
Meilin glanced at her, then nodded once—thighs shifting with a soft, wet sound.
Agreement—no debate needed.
That was new.
Lian's Reflection
That night, after tools were cleaned and plans drawn, I found Lian sitting by the doorway, watching the stars—moonlight silvering the taut curve of her swollen belly, milk dripping steadily from her breasts in warm streams down her thighs, the scent of her arousal thick in the cool air.
"This house was supposed to be temporary," she said softly. "A place to survive."
"And now?" I asked, cock pulsing fully at the sight of her—ripe, open, ready.
She smiled—gentle, steady, thighs parting subtly so lamplight caught the glistening seam of her cunt.
"Now it's becoming something people notice," she replied.
"That's frightening… and precious."
She looked at me, eyes warm but clear, hand drifting to rest high on my thigh—inches from where my erection strained thick and leaking.
"You didn't gather us to stand above others," she said.
"You gathered us so no one would fall alone."
Her hand rested over mine—then slipped lower, cupping the bulge in my pants, squeezing gently until pre-cum soaked through.
Not clinging.
Choosing—her slick, pregnant cunt aching for me even now, thighs parted in silent invitation.
[Bond Branch Passive Effect Triggered]
Household Resilience Increased
After Judgment
The court dispersed.
The village returned to its routines.
But something had shifted.
We weren't targets anymore.
We were a factor—and the throbbing certainty in my cock promised that tonight, we would celebrate our new standing with bodies pressed close, milk and cum mingling freely once more.
And as I lay down that night, listening to the quiet breathing under one roof, I understood—
Power didn't arrive as dominance.
It arrived as responsibility others could no longer ignore—and as the slow, inevitable burn of four ripe, aching women waiting to wrap around me, milk me dry, and remind me exactly what we had built, thrust by deep, claiming thrust.