World of Women: Zero - Chapter 2

“Where the fuck am I?” I muttered.

I was sitting in a rather large bed in a somewhat ornate bedroom. My hair was still wet, and I was wearing nothing but a robe while eating… what had the maid called it? A scone? Wasn’t that a British thing? My life had been far too poor and miserable to be exposed to nice things in life. I had done poorly in school, and I had barely graduated before being put in the chair.

That said, it wasn’t like I was an idiot. I could tell that this wasn’t the world I was born in. First of all, all the women were too damn hot. That fucking maid, for example, had a damn smoking body. She didn’t even seem to care when I got an eyeful. She even started rubbing me all over. It wasn’t until she noticed my dick was rock hard that she suddenly panicked and fled the bathtub. She screamed something like “Oh, God, it’s awakened!” before racing off.

At that point, I was finally left to my own. It was probably for the best. Seeing that woman’s naked body, I started having some thoughts. I very nearly pushed her down. I didn’t forget the promise I made on the electric chair. Yet, now that I did have another life, did I want to immediately ruin it by raping the maid? If I did so, wouldn’t I become the very demon that everyone said I was?

My expression darkened. “Fuck them… what do I care. Women are all whores.”

That was my new motto. I needed to get past this step. It turned out there was a God, and he was listening. How else would I not only be given a second lease on life, but I was also surrounded by hotties. It was like God was giving me his okay to go on a raping spree!

I let out a sigh. Who was kidding? I wasn’t so bold. Had I been bold, then I wouldn’t have been a virgin for my entire life. That slutty sister of mine had practically been the town bicycle, and yet I hadn’t even touched a pussy. That maid was actually the closest I had ever gotten to a cunt, and it was underwater the entire time. I didn’t even get a look! My eyes had been locked on her tits the entire time. They weren’t even big tits, but they were a nice handful. It was still more than my virgin ass had seen except in porn.

I stood up and walked to the window. As I peered outside the curtain, I could see a massive fountain in front of an elaborate estate. I had been outside earlier, but the shock of dying and coming back had left me too flustered to really take in the place. Yet, now that I had time to think, I was beginning to put things together. A carriage pulled by a horse came up to the front of the mansion.

Was this the so-called fantasy world where everything resembled a simpler point in Earth’s timeline? Actually, I recalled that snobby slut mentioned using a lightning bolt. Did that mean magic existed in this world? This must be one of those reincarnated in another world stories. Those stories always had the best sex. Well, that was because I happened to have a thing for girls with cat ears and a tail. I wasn’t a furry freak, okay? She still had to be hot, and hot in the human kind of way!

If this world had elves and catgirls, my life would definitely be complete. I’d build myself a harem of beauties, and we’d fuck until the demon king wiped us out. What? Fight the demon king? Fuck that noise. I shook my head. In fact, fuck all of it. A harem of women? Wasn’t I just asking to be backstabbed by a dozen bitches? I’ll keep to just using them like the sluts they are.

I flopped back on my bed, letting out a sigh. I needed to think about things. What did I know? First off, I seemed to live in a rather wealthy mansion. I appeared to be the son… no… daughter? Everyone called me a girl. The sister called me big sister. I was referred to as ‘she’ and ‘daughter’. Someone wanted me to think I was a girl. I suppose, if I hadn’t grown up as a boy and I knew no other life, I might have actually thought I was a girl. Was that how they raised this kid? Damn, I thought my childhood was fucked up. At least my mom didn’t stick me in a dress and tell me my dick was a prolapsed uterus or some shit.

There seemed to be more to it than simple deception, though. When I presented my dick to the maid, she seemed determined to pretend it didn’t exist. It was only when I gave her no option that she panicked and ran. If anything, my dick seemed to scare her. That actually didn’t make me feel too good.

What else? I apparently wasn’t well-liked. That little sister of mine seemed to look down on me. The woman named Lady Thorn seemed almost dismissive, although I was her child. Then there was that slut from outside. She had tried to kill me. No, she had insulted me, led me into a trap where she couldn’t be faulted, and then tried to kill me. It appeared like my situation in this world wasn’t all that safe.

Plus, there was that other maid. Not the one I took a bath with, but the one after. With the maid gone, I finished my bath on my own, found a towel and robe nearby, dried myself, and then headed out. Since I didn’t know where my room was, I looked for a servant. It turned out that despite this mansion being so large, there was very little help within. It took me nearly half an hour before I finally stumbled upon a maid cleaning one of the floors.

“What do you think you’re doing wandering around?” This maid, although older than the other one, was also a hotty.

Unlike my maid, she had some big titties and an ass I would love to smack. I only had to take one look at those massive melons before my dick was about to explode. She was looking at me with disgust and veiled hatred, but dare I say that actually made her look a bit hotter.

“Hey, cutie, how are you doing?” I asked, a smile filtering onto my lips.

“My name is Seraphina!” She snapped. “Ser-a-phi-na! You better not forget it again! Where the hell is Clara?”

“Clara?” I blinked.

“Your stupid maid? God’s milk, you’re dumb. Did you even forget your own name?”

“Uh… I got struck by lightning…” I tried to defend, taken aback by this woman’s ferocity. “My mind is confused. What’s my name again?”

She looked at me like I was garbage. “Christan?”

“Christan… Thorn?” I blinked.

“That’s right…” She nodded like she was talking to an idiot.

Actually, she might be onto something. I had thought Lady Thorn called me Christan, but at the time I was still dazed. Either way, the fact that I had the same name in this world just filled me with disbelief. The woman turned away, and I reached out. My hand brushed her breast, and I nearly jumped back. She turned to me, her eyes growing red.

“S-sorry! Could you please escort me to my room? The other maid… uh… Clara, she left! I don’t know where she is, and I’m still disoriented…” At that moment, my stomach growled. “And hungry!”

“You…” She growled, but she suddenly noticed my eyes weren’t on her face, but locked right on her cleavage.

Her face turned red, and she put her arms up defensively.

“S-sorry!” I looked away.

A bit to my surprise, she did end up taking me to a bedroom that I presumed was mine. I thought I was going to starve, but she even came back ten minutes later with a plate full of crumpets and tea.

“Will that be all, young mistress?” She asked, her teeth ground together as she looked at me with veiled rage.

“Do you really think I’m a woman?” I asked.

She suddenly jumped like she had been goosed, and then she spoke in a somewhat strained voice. “W-what else would you be?”

“I don’t know…” I spoke coyly. “Something else…”

“Don’t live in such a deluded fantasy.” She huffed. “Your female parts are horribly deformed at birth. You will never get God’s blessing. Do not show your disgusting body to anyone… No woman would ever want to see that… thing…”

She shivered before turning and walking out the door without another word.

“God’s blessing, huh?” My expression darkened. “Fuck God.”

Suffice it to say, I had learned a lot of interesting things from this maid. Yet, despite everything I had learned, I still felt like I didn’t understand anything. My only choice was to continue to slowly figure it out. I’d also need to be extremely careful. I wouldn’t let the lies of women send me to my death a second time!

_____

The study smelled of ink and old paper. Lady Genevieve Thorn sat behind a mahogany desk that had seen better days, its surface marred by rings from countless teacups and scratches from quills long since discarded. She rubbed her temples as she stared at the ledger before her. The numbers blurred together, but their message was clear. House Thorn was bleeding coin.

She set down her quill and leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking in protest. Once, this estate had employed over forty servants. Now, only a handful remained. This included her accountant, which was why she had to be bothered to do all of this herself. However, it had been necessary. Every pair of eyes was a potential witness; every loose tongue was a potential executioner. The secret of Christan’s existence required absolute secrecy, and the fewer people who knew something, the easier it was to keep it a secret.

She glanced at the window, where the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured gardens. Those gardens had once been the envy of the Vale. Now, weeds crept along the edges, and the hedges had grown wild and unkempt. There was no one left to tend them properly.

Her family’s wealth had been legendary once. The Thorns had controlled the textile trade, the salt mines, and three of the most profitable shipping routes in the eastern provinces. That had been before the other houses had begun circling like vultures. House Rose was the worst of them, snapping up businesses that had been in Thorn’s hands for generations. Lady Rose herself had made it her personal mission to see the Thorn name dragged through the mud, and after what happened this afternoon, it seemed her daughter was no less vicious.

Christan very nearly died from that girl’s scheming. She had never been a particularly bright child. Perhaps, this was partially Lady Thorn’s fault. She had been so fearful of people discovering Christan’s secret, she had never hired her a tutor or trained her in any way befitting a future sister of the veil. Of course, the Rose girl had failed to kill Christan. The sad thing was, Genevieve still couldn’t decide if this was a good thing or a bad thing. She had enemies on all sides wanting to destroy her. Christan was just one more concern she didn’t wish to have.

Why was her house in so much jeopardy? Was it jealousy? Genevieve had produced five children. Five daughters, as far as the world knew. The church had granted her four baptisms initially, an honor that spoke to her perceived fertility. She thought it would end there. Her fourth pregnancy didn’t take, and when she received Christan, she told the world that she was born deformed as a result of the unusual pregnancy.

This excuse made sense at the time. It’d excuse any abnormalities the child expressed, should anyone accidentally see it. She also thought it would put an end to her childbearing. How could she have expected that the church would express its sympathy in the most unexpected of ways? It offered her a fifth baptism. Such a thing was virtually unheard of.

She still remembered the fear that had gripped her heart when the priestess had delivered the news.  She was even more fearful when the result appeared. The fifth baptism had taken place.

Genevieve’s hand trembled slightly as she recalled the moment the priestess had confirmed the pregnancy. This was the equivalent of blasphemy. The church’s doctrine was clear. If a pregnancy failed to take, you would never be offered another chance. It was impossible to become pregnant after a failed baptism. It was the Father’s will.

And yet, Genevieve Thorn had proven them wrong. She had lied, been offered a baptism she never should have received, and conceived a daughter that never should have been able to be born. What was that if not blasphemy of the highest order?

The church then offered a sixth baptism, but she had refused. The words had tumbled from her lips before she could stop them. She gave her reason that after five children, she was starting to feel like a breeding horse. However, no woman had ever refused a baptism before. It was akin to refusing the Father’s love itself.

The church had accepted her refusal with polite smiles and cold eyes. The other noble houses had been less diplomatic. Whispers followed her everywhere. Some called her ungrateful. Others said the deformed child was a punishment for her sacrilege. A few of the more vicious rumors suggested she had lain with demons to produce such an abomination.

Somehow, the truth was worse.

The door to her study swung open with a thud, generating a sudden gust of wind which tore through the study, scattering papers across the desk and onto the floor. Genevieve let out a long, weary sigh as she watched three months of financial records flutter about like startled birds.

The door stood open, and in its frame stood Clara, chest heaving, face pale as fresh milk.

“Clara,” Genevieve said, her voice calm despite the chaos of papers still settling around her. “To what do I owe this dramatic entrance?”

The maid stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were wide with something that looked disturbingly like terror.

“My Lady, it’s Christan.” Clara’s voice came out as a whisper. “His manhood. It has awakened.”

Genevieve’s quill clattered to the desk. She had known this day would come. She had dreaded it for years. But hearing the words spoken aloud still sent a chill down her spine.

“Explain,” she said, her tone clipped.

Clara wrung her hands together. “I have been watching it carefully, as you instructed. All these years, I have monitored its growth. It’s been growing lately, my lady, but that growth was steady, or so I thought. But today, while we were taking our usual bath, it happened.”

“What happened?”

“It grew.” Clara’s voice cracked. “In seconds, my Lady. It doubled. No, tripled in size! Right before my eyes!”

Genevieve felt her composure slip. A gasp escaped her lips before she could suppress it. She rose from her chair and walked to the window, turning her back on Clara as she tried to gather her thoughts.

“You say it grew that quickly?” She stared out at the overgrown gardens without seeing them. “Perhaps it was… tell me, was the phallus hard? Rigid to the touch?”

Clara’s face flushed crimson. “I-I didn’t… touch it… But, yes, it was quite hard.”

Genevieve nodded thoughtfully. “Then it is likely his first erection. The ancient texts describe such things. When a male is aroused, his organ becomes engorged with blood. There is also a term for a certain type of male. A grower, they called them. In their cases, the organ appears timid and small until triggered. Then it erupts in its full glory.”

Clara’s face had gone from red to white. “Blood? You mean to tell me that blood can make something so big and so hard? What kind of monstrous organ is this penis?”

Genevieve shook her head. “Before the modern era, it was said that penis’s ruled the world. Clearly, this organ is quite monstrous.”

Clara gulped, but before she could respond, there was a polite knock on the door.

“Enter,” Genevieve called.

The door swung open to reveal Seraphina. The head maid’s expression was thunderous. Her eyes immediately found Clara, and her lip curled.

“You,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “I might have known I would find you here.”

Clara bristled. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I just had an encounter with the child.” Seraphina’s gaze bore into Clara. “Wandering the halls without her handler, I might add.”

“I am not her handler!” Clara shot back. “I am her mother!”

Seraphina scoffed. “You were derelict in your duty regardless of title.”

“Duty?” Clara’s voice rose. “I had to report to Lady Thorn immediately! Christan has shown developments of the male variety!

The color drained from Seraphina’s face. Her eyes flickered with something Genevieve had never seen in the head maid before. Fear.

Genevieve gave her head maid a look. “Something tells me you have already witnessed these developments yourself.”

Seraphina’s jaw tightened. For a moment, it looked as though she might deny it. Then her shoulders slumped.

“The child suddenly became infatuated with my breasts,” she said, her voice strained. “Like a lesbian bitch in heat. Her eyes grew fierce. For a second, I thought she might jump me.”

Clara rounded on her. “My baby is kind! She would never do such a thing!”

But even as the words left her mouth, Clara’s conviction seemed to waver. She bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Genevieve raised an eyebrow. “Clara?”

“It is just…” Clara’s voice was barely audible. “When we were in the bath together, before his manhood awakened, there was a look in his eyes. It terrified me. It was like he wanted to devour me. I became so frightened I could only flee.”

Seraphina let out a harsh laugh. “Coward.”

Clara winced but said nothing.

Genevieve returned to her desk and sank into her chair. She rubbed her temples again, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes.

“We all knew this time was coming,” she said. “The boy has finally reached sexual maturity.”

Seraphina and Clara both winced at the word boy. Neither of them had the guts to use such a word. They weren’t brave enough.

“There is more…” Seraphina spoke uncertainly.

“Just speak it,” Genevieve said impatiently.

“She… questioned her femininity. I’d swear… she might know… she’s not like other girls.”

Her statement hung in the air. Genevieve looked down at her desk for a moment and then looked back up at Clara decisively.

“Clara, it is up to you to resolve the boy’s sexual urges.”

Clara blinked. “Eh? What do you mean, resolve his sexual urges?”

Genevieve sighed. “The boy’s identity as a male cannot be revealed. If he continues to get erections, if he becomes bedeviled and attacks a woman, we will all be exposed.”

“Could that happen?” Seraphina gasped.

“Although I have read the ancient texts. Much of it is more myth than fact. In truth, very little is known about the sex known as male. Anything is possible.” She paused for a moment as if a thought came to her. “Although I do recall one thing I read. An adult man requires frequent milking to keep him docile.”

Both women stared at her in confusion.

“Milking?” Seraphina’s voice was incredulous. “What do you mean, milking?”

Genevieve felt heat rise to her cheeks. She had never imagined herself explaining such things to anyone, let alone her servants.

“If a boy’s penis is rubbed sufficiently, it will eventually release a white fluid. Milk, as the texts called it. This milk must be released daily. Without regular release, the male becomes agitated, aggressive, and prone to acting on his baser instincts.”

Seraphina’s mouth hung open. “How can this be done daily?”

“Without women, a boy often does it himself. However, since Christan was not raised as a boy, he does not know how. Someone will need to milk him. At least at first, until he learns to do it on his own.” She turned to Clara. “You will go milk the boy.”

Clara’s face went pale.

“My Lady, I cannot! I am his mother! I could not possibly… Since Seraphina has caught his eye, perhaps it should be her,” Clara said quickly, pointing at the head maid.

Seraphina’s smug expression vanished instantly.

“You dare!” she sputtered. “I heard that touching it would get you pregnant! I will only ever allow myself to be pregnant with God’s seed!”

“Do you think I want to get pregnant either? Clara asked in a shrill voice.

“Hmph… wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You…”

“Enough!” Genevieve slammed her hand on the desk, causing both women to fall silent. “Clara, your being his mother is meaningless in this matter. After all, every woman is a sister. We’re all born of the same seed. Our mothers, and our mothers’ mothers, all born of God’s seed. For you to milk your son, it is only proper.”

Clara shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “Please, my Lady. I cannot. He is my baby boy. I have held him since he was an infant. I have bathed him, dressed him, and fed him. To do such a thing now…”

Genevieve rose from her chair. Her eyes were hard, her voice cold.

“You will use your body in any manner necessary to keep that thing between his legs docile and controlled. Even if it means making the ultimate sacrifice. You must soothe the beast by any means necessary, and I mean any means.”

Clara gasped. “You do not mean…”

“I have said enough.” Genevieve turned away to hide the head rising in her face. “Go. Now.”

Clara stood frozen for a moment. Then she turned and walked toward the door. As she reached the threshold, her hand tightened on the frame. Her knuckles went white.

“Anything for my son,” she whispered.

And then she was left.