Something short and cute, aimed at the tastes of a friend <3


Sunday Breakfast


The clone of Gal Gadot woke to the heavenly scent of girl ham, Sunday mornings really were the best. She had fallen asleep with a loli in her arms, she kissed the girl on the cheek, gently rousing her “good morning pretty girl” she whispered fondly. They were not a couple, lolis had such a short life expectancy that it wasn’t worth it, but Gal had just broken up with a romantic interest and held felt like hugging a squishy little teddy bear. The adorable ginger rolled over and looked at Gal, blushing, she and every other kid in the harem had a crush on Gal (and most of the other counselors). Gal laughed “Oh all right” and kissed her.


They made out for a few minutes, the loli not taking much notice of Gal’s hands shifting on her jaw. Gal broke the kiss, the loli looked flushed, very happy, and a bit dazed. Gal smiled, and then in a quick twist and snap, the munchkin tensed for just a moment, then slumped, her eyes blank, her neck at an odd angle. Gal had cried after sex last night, and she didn’t want that getting around, she had been emotional since the breakup. The life of a non-counselor harem girl counted for effectively nothing, and it was so easy for an adult as fit as Gal to snap a neck. The kid had been adorable and made a cute corpse, but the act of taking her life meant less to Gal than stubbing her toe.



With that taken care of and her post-orgasmic breakdown a secret again, Gal eagerly started her day. She washed up, admired her beautiful, strong body in the full length mirror, then wrapped her hair in a towel, threw on a bathrobe and went down for breakfast. She got hugs and kisses from a number of girls, both on the stairs and as she entered the kitchen. The harem was a happy, affectionate place. Gal knew she would eventually be snuffed, probably in the next year or two as she was one of the oldest girls, there was still nowhere she would rather be.



The wonderful smells of breakfast were much stronger in here. Biscuits with girl butter, eggs cooked in tit fat, and among other things, platters of girl ham that had been a tween the previous day. Everything was so much fresher here. There was no question about where the food came from or if the meat had been treated humanely. On any given Sunday morning, the ham Gal so enjoyed, she had probably fucked it in the last few weeks.



Gal filled her plate with fruits and biscuits, and of course, ham and eggs. She set her plate at an open seat, walked to the orange juice, and reconsidered. She took her glass back to the table and waved to Tegan. The hugely well endowed girl with the baby face that did not at all match her G cups came over eagerly. She was on hormones that caused her to lactate constantly, and produce serious quantities of milk. She unhooked her expansive nursing bra, looking forward to this.



Gal smiled and rubbed the big beautiful tits presented to her. Tegan hadn’t been milked during the night, and her boobs ached. They were heavy and sore and felt ready to burst. Daddies Gimli and Nixon had implanted small pumps in her mammary glands so she wouldn’t leak, milk would only come out from milking. Tegan was one of several girls modified for this duty, they all prayed that they would be milked at breakfast, being forced to wait for making after dinner milkshakes was agonizing.
Gal rubbed Tegan’s breasts, admiring, weighing, openly teasing her with the promise of relief. Tegan whined pitifully, and looked at Gal with big puppy dog eyes “Please Gal?”. The counselor relented “Oh Tegan, you know I can’t say no to the eyes”. She looked the blonde in the eye and smiled as she leaned down and took that first sip right from the boob. Tegan sighed happily, that was the kind of thing she liked even when it wasn’t letting off pressure. Then Gal tugged her nipples and filled two glasses with the best milk in the world. Tegan still had plenty to give, but she was feeling so much better. They hugged, Gal handed her one of the glasses and instructed her to stay hydrated, which was a concern with the milker hormones. Then Gal attacked her breakfast with the appetite of a young woman who had spent half the night having sex. Her brain was swimming in serotonin, the price of living here would eventually be her life, but the Sunday breakfasts alone made it worth it.