I was feeling very much in control by the time I went to bed that night. And why not? My lovely daughters had each given me a blowjob and now I was going to sleep with my sexy, horny wife. What more could you want?

The next morning was a lovely one. The birds chirping, the bees buzzing, the family wearing sexy, silk and lace, backless dresses. Breakfast was waffles again and I decided to chat with the French cook about that.

She was in the kitchen. A lovely redhead. Not as shapely as I would like but still wonderful on the eyes. She normally angry face was cheerful, her smile huge, her eyes wide, her voice light and happy. My wife must have REALLY slammed her with some powerful suggestions or commands. I remember the first time I met her she tried to stab me with a butter knife.

“Listen here,” I said, pointing at her. “Waffles are all nice and good. Nevertheless, I prefer a good English breakfast. Cold toast. Bacon, sliced nice and thick. Jam. In addition, orange juice. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

Moreover, she waited. Of course, by this time I understood this. They needed orders. People, in general, need to be told what to do.

I unzipped my pants and smiled at her.

There is something wrong and incredibly kinky about having sex in an incredibly clean kitchen.

Maybe it was the sounds a woman makes when she is sucking your cock. The wet, slurping, gulping sounds really do not fit the environment. Leaning against a stainless steel kitchen sink surrounded by spotless walls, clean floor tiles, and well organized cabinets while having the cook trying to swallow your dick makes you feel out of place.

It is a surreal experience.

When I cum all over her face I found myself smiling like an idiot.

As you can guess, on leaving the kitchen I had a VERY big smile on my face. Life was good.

I had so much energy in me that I started to make a list of all the people I needed to have drink milk. Priests and leaders who had great power. Old school friends who I hated. Old girlfriends who I wanted to make into my harem.

Yes, a harem. And why not? I was going to be ruler of this land. Why not live like a King?

Those who tried to fight me would have to be dealt with. I felt a tad weird about that. Killing people was not something I really felt good about. Maybe if I could just have them placed in jail?

Yes. The prisons would be mostly empty. No crimes under my rule. Everybody would follow my commands but for those few who WOULD end up in jail. I wonder how many people did not drink milk?

That WOULD be a problem. Some people were not able to handle lactose.

Maybe lactose intolerance had been nature’s way to fight off the parasite. Yes, that made sense. Children who obeyed blindly would learn quicker. That explained why they became such monsters after turning three or four. They get from under the thumb of the parasite, maybe, and become free thinkers?

However, why has it returned now? Because we were drinking more milk? Because humans were no longer lactose intolerant? We were becoming milk greedy mutants?

Yes, that made sense. Now I would take advantage of this mutation among my own kind.

That was what evolution was about. Advantages. I would be one of the first. I would rule, not with an iron fist, but a milk shake. Earth would find peace and happiness. Well, most of Earth. The rest would have to be forced to obey.

I wonder how many people would have to be imprisoned?

Lunch was wonderful, and we received many thank you notes from the families whose children had been invited to the last party. A few even had personal letters from the young adults, all filled with love, directed towards me.

I wondered how many of the girls would fill out as they got older and decided to make another list.

Oh, lists are wonderful. Lists of friends, lists of enemies, lists of future wives. Lists of items I wanted to own, buildings I wanted to be renamed after me. I wanted to make sure that when I left this mortal coil my name would be remembered. It was going to be stamped on the heart of mankind if I had any say in it.

Dinner went swiftly. There was little talk, just eating and flirting. The girls seemed to be even more excited and happier than before. Also, and maybe it was just me, all the women seemed to have larger breasts. However, I think that was just my imagination at work.

Even Young seemed to be even calmer and English than before as he served the after dinner brandy and made sure my cigar was ready in the library. I enjoyed the cigar, some brandy, and a good book on the history of humankind. Yet, I found nothing to support my theories about parasites effecting our development. There is just so much we do not understand about ourselves, I fear.

Then it was time to retire and I did so with a joy filled heart and a very solid hard on.

As I lay in bed, sucking my lovely Francine’s breasts, thinking about all my plans I felt the world was mine for the taking. I could take over the whole nation easily. Maybe, maybe, with help the world would come next. The problem would be the people who did not drink milk. I would have to handle them. But how?

I stroked my wife’s sides and listened to her moan happily, as my tongue played with her hard nipples. Such lovely nipples. Perfect hard bumps of flesh, eager for my touch.

My nails raked her soft skin as my mind had the pleasure of plotting the conquest of the world again and again. Big thoughts mixed with small ones. My house cleaners could be ordered to wear nothing but hats, heels, and a smile. My cook could serve meals nude as well.

Yet that was nothing compared to what I could do to the face of humanity. A few well placed words in the fashion world and women would be going down the streets of Italy and France in almost nothing. They thought flappers had been outrageous! Wait until they see the new outfits that would come out of the fashion centers of Europe.

In addition, there was the idea in the back of my mind. Animals and plants could be bred for certain characteristics. Why not humans? If I could make all women pretty, all men strong, and all of them able to handle lactose in milk, the future of humankind would be glorious!

I chuckled to myself, almost choking on my lovely wife’s huge nipple, the taste of cantaloupe in my mouth as I suckled at her breast. She moaned as I drew milk from her.

I found my penis as hard as a rock as I stroked her body, my hands moving down to touch her wetness.

Wait. Cantaloupe? As you can guess, dear reader, I started to panic and almost tossed her out of bed in my speed to remove her breast from my mouth. She was lactating - I had been drinking milk from her breasts. My God, I thought in horror, shooting across the bed so fast I fell onto the floor with a crash. Milk! I drank her milk! And she…oh no!

No, I cannot be infected. Not me. Not from her milk. Nonsense. She was not a cow.

Still, in fear I ran to the sink in my bathroom and washed out my mouth, ignoring her confused questions, her wish to know what she had done wrong. I washed out my mouth repeatedly.

Fear. Yes, I have known fear before. However, never at this level. I have never been to war. Nor have I ever been in any shipwreck, airship crash, and train derailment. Danger has never lifted its anger face in my presence. Now the taste of some melon was causing me to act like an animal.

After calming down, telling my wife to shut up, and draying off, I sat at the edge of the bed and thought very hard.

I do not think whatever was causing the submissive behavior could travel in human milk. Nevertheless, could I be sure? It had to live in the bodies, where ever, some place. But the milk glands? Men did not have them. Where did they live in men? Surly they did not travel to the mammals’ breasts. Yet…how could I be sure?

I had recovered from the fear, the horror, but it left a bad taste in my mouth, if you will forgive the inside joke. Maybe I was heading humanity down the wrong road. Maybe I needed to do something to stop it.

Maybe I was not to be humankind’s ruler but its Hero.

I got dressed quickly, telling my wife to go to sleep. If I hurried I could arrive at the processing plant of the Commercial Dairy Company by midnight. Nobody would be there and those who were would not stop me. My car could carry enough petrol to start a good fire.

Yes, I thought to myself, what a wonderful idea. Fire. Would fire be enough? It had to be.

I rushed down the stairs, shouting for Young as I finished tying my tie.

“Get the car ready!” I ordered as I checked myself in the mirror. “And fill a few tins of petrol, that’s a good chap.”

“Yes, sir,” Young said without a blink of the eye. Wonderful butler. Best in the world.

Then I realized I needed to leave some kind of record behind. Grabbing an empty diary I had been saving I quickly, but with as much detail as I could, proceeded to write down my adventures in mind control.

Soon, with a warm coat on, and a scarf, I will be speeding down the road. Next to me, on the passenger seat, will be three tins of petrol, the lids on tight. Young had even cleaned them after filling them, so the scent would not give me away when I enter the compound. What a thoughtful butler. English butlers were the best in the world.

I hope the guards will let me in. They should. Then I will set the whole place on fire. I have seen the massive machinery for the pasteurization of milk, so clean, so heavy, and almost religious in its weight. I will be upset to destroy it but I must.

I will have Young leave this book in my library. If I do not return maybe somebody will find it. Read it. Make copies. Spread the knowledge. In addition, do not drink MILK!