Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
ASTERIOS
“Come in, Professor. We are just talking about ancient history and mythology,” a frat brother declares, standing with five others around a table of snacks that, strangely, look safe to eat.
“No,” another male counters, sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We’re talking about science.”
“Actually, this would fall under paranormal studies,” a third chimes in.
The first two scoff while the remaining minotaurs snicker.
Interesting. “May I join the conversation?” I ask.
They all erupt into an affirmative chorus. “We’d be honored.”
I close the door behind me, glad that the barrier can affectively mute the revelry. I join the six of them. Four males, two females. One of the frat brothers offers me a bottle of water before introducing himself and his friends.
“Ladies first.” He winks at the females. “Ms. Platinum is Boann, International Business. Ms. Ebony is Euboia, Ancient History.”
I nod. “Pleasure.”
Both females smile, and one even offers a quick wave.
“Mr. Science here is Daman, Quantum Physics.” The frat brother tips his head in the other direction. “Mr. Mythology is Byron, Journalism and Modern Literature. He likes to read and write— a lot.”
I shake Daman’s hand first. “Impressive,” I offer, acknowledging the difficultly of his chosen science major.
“Thanks.”
When I shake Byron’s hand, I ask, “Double major or dual degrees?”
“Dual,” he replies.
“Also impressive.”
“Thank you.” Byron shoots a smug smile at his frat brother. “See? Not a waste.”
Smirking, the frat brother continues, gesturing across the table. “Mr. Paranormal is Veles, Parapsychology. And I’m Gotarzes, Classical Archaeology.”
“I’m just Psychology,” Veles corrects, glaring at his friend before addressing me. “Tar’s being a dick.”
“Whatever,” Gotarzes mutters behind his plastic cup, hiding his grin.
I shake hands with both before addressing the group. “Nice to meet you. I’m—”
“Professor Bove,” they all chime together. “Social and Cultural History.”
“Ah, yes.” I clear my throat. “You all would have been in my class— or rather, classes— at some point or another.”
Awkward, but this is the reality of university. I lecture; my assistants do the administrative work. If I know your name, it means that you are failing, misbehaving, or both.
I uncap my water, take a drink, then say, “Okay, catch me up. Start with the science.”
Daman beams. “I explained that quantum physics theorizes that we live in an infinite multiverse. If proven true, it would mean that a universe almost exactly like ours could exist, but instead of us bovids being the dominant evolutionary species, primates might be the most intelligent lifeform on the planet.”
Euboia jumps in. “I’d added that we have stories of intelligent primate creatures existing in ancient times. For example, the Pithekotaur— a hairless ape/bull hybrid that lived in a labyrinth and terrorized our ancestors.”
“That’s just a myth,” Gotarzes counters. “To keep calves out of caverns.”
She shrugs. “Myths are often based on some form of truth.”
“So where did the paranormal come in?” I ask.
The group stares at Veles, prompting him to respond. “The Milkmaid is not a minotaur, but something called a human witch, which is a sentient creature descended from apes.”
Huh. “And why is this creature called The Milkmaid?” I ask.
The group erupts into laughter.
Gotarzes snorts. “Yeah, Veles, tell the professor why she’s called that. Give him the whole spiel.”
“The Milkmaid is an old catoptromancy legend about a female witch from another dimension who can grant male bulls the best orgasms of their lives,” Veles explains.
I chuckle. “Is she ugly? Why is not every young, male minotaur on campus attempting to conjure this female human?”
“Not really ugly. She’s okay, I guess, for a monster. But she has an insatiable appetite and an obsession with collecting our ejaculate. All who come back from her farm are drained of their semen and their penises are literally sore from overuse.”
To be polite, I stifle my humor behind a closed fist while I clear my throat. “This is quite the legend. Is there a downside that’s not so… favorable as suffering from exhaustion from having too much sex?”
He shrugs his shoulder. “If you summon her, there is no guarantee she will return you to this realm. Some minotaurs she keeps for a night, others she keeps for weeks, months, or even years. And it’s not always traditional intercourse—”
“Personally, she’s my new role model,” Boann suddenly declares.
“It’s said that the Milkmaid milks her victims with a giant milking machine.
Imagine a bunch of naked bulls chained up in a barn getting their cocks mechanically tugged until ejaculation.
” She laughs wickedly. “What does she do with all that semen? Do you think she sells it? I bet she’s super rich. ”
“Well…” Euboia draws out, leaning forward and lowering her tone for effect, “I heard that bulls who get disrespectful with her wake up with semen in their mouths as punishment. And if the Milkmaid gazes into your heart and finds you have raped someone before, she will literally castrate you before sending you home.”
The bulls around me balk and shudder, visibly cringing at the idea.
“Worse,” Euboia adds, pausing before taking on a cautionary whisper, “Those bulls who really piss her off end up beheaded, becoming trophies on her walls, a warning to all those who wish to escape her milky clutches.”
The heavy silence that follows is quickly ruined when she and Boann burst out laughing, dissipating the creepy atmosphere they had created.
“I wish she appeared to females,” Boann complains. “I bet she’s a blast to hang out with.”
The young bulls mutely stare, obviously caught up in their imaginations. I shake my head, bemused by the hypocrisy.
“She punishes rapists but is a rapist herself?” I ask, raising a brow at the skewed logic.
Veles answers quietly. “She takes your summoning of her as consent, and your consent is irrevocable. She says that’s just how magic works.”
“She says?” Byron echoes. “You speak like you’ve had the experience.”
“Didn’t you?” Veles responds in offence. “She mentioned you to me.”
The silence that follows is long and deafening. Other than to stare, Byron did not correct the counter.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gotarzes bursts out with laughter. “She’s not real, you all.”
“How do you know?” Veles snaps.
“I just do! And even if she is real, I’m not so hard up as to summon some magical bitch through a mirror to come touch my dick.”
“Hey, I’m doing a story for class,” Byron mutters, apparently offended. “It’s research.”
“You both are fucking pathetic—”
Veles launches his half-filled water bottle at Gotarzes. “Fuck you, Tar. If she’s not real, then go into the bathroom and summon her.” He narrows his eyes. “I dare you.”
“That’s stupid,” Gotarzes replies, hurling his own cup back. “I’m not going to play into your delusions. You should change your major, Vel. You really need to be the patient, not the doctor. Have your damned head examined.”
Veles shoves the table. “Just admit you’re too scared to do it, you fucking pussy—”
“Enough!” I bellow. “I’ll do it.”