Those of you who watch Supernatural will be familiar with the idea of humans making deals with demons, where the demon will grant the human their wish in exchange for their immortal soul. How I came to read this truck-stop post-masturbation tissue is not entirely dissimilar. My wish was for Tropical Mary to read Crystal Cabbage: Meth Whore; she agreed, but on condition that I would have to read something of her choice in return. Like the humans in Supernatural I simply hoped that I would get what I wanted without the demon coming back to collect its due, but sadly this was not to be.
The following review is not suitable for persons who are lactose intolerant.
The year is 2032, and mankind has finally reached a technological point where it can extend its reach beyond our little solar system. The target? Alpha Lacteo, a star roughly 20 years from Earth as the space rocket flies. Such a mission will require great planning, the input of the finest experts, and food.
Thankfully we seem to have planning and experts in abundance, but food is the problem. When it becomes clear to NASA’s top scientists that chickens won’t thrive in microgravity they devise the HUCOW (Heroes Utilizing Cunt or Wetnurse) Program. This might seem a bit odd but Ms Divelle assures me that a single human female who’s been drugged up to hell and back to produce an endless supply of breast milk to feed the space crew for the duration of its flight is entirely scientifically feasible. After a sweeping search of every governmental department’s interns Samantha is chosen as the food supply since she’s still a feisty 19-year-old virgin with a set of DDs on her chest.
After tricking Samantha into getting into the spaceship and knocking her out by feeding her a large turkey sandwich (I’m not joking) it’s off to Alpha Lacteo they go! For the next twenty years she will be the food supply for Doris, a lesbian by trade, Leonard, the ship’s engineer, Brett, the crew’s doctor, Roger, the pilot, and the Captain, name unknown.
Oh yeah, in addition to Samantha’s job as a human cow she must also sexually satisfy the entire crew for the next twenty years. Ms Divelle does imply that the use of sex slaves on intergalactic missions is morally and ethically OK, so we can run with this. You would think that being a virgin would make it rather tricky for Samantha to satisfy the lust of the entire crew but thankfully those clever scientists back on Earth gave her more drugs to heighten her libido and apparently reduce the strain of an unlubricated double penetration on her inexperienced person. This is all the more fortuitous when you consider that three of the men have penises in the vicinity of 11 inches long and the other has one as thick as a whiskey glass (confirming the heretofore unheard of legend that all astronauts are hung like donkeys).
What follows is the most dairy-laden sexual exploits of an inexperienced human cow that you’re likely to find in any book.
The Writing Style
I know that this should be a given since I was reading a book about an interplanetary gang-bang with a human cow, but the way Jezebel Divelle writes is just daft. In terms of her actual writing everything is completely passable in that she can string complete sentences together and, for better or worse, you always have a vivid picture of what’s going on. The daftness comes in with these random asides that are thrown in which include government conspiracies (“It would have to be done in secret. Fortunately, the US Government had some experience in secrecy), bureaucratic corruption (the head of the HUCOW Program had been “…in prison, where he had been sentenced for his various sex crimes, extortion and embezzling. He was perfect for government work.”), and the allegation that the vast majority of people working in government departments are riddled with STDs.
I couldn’t really say whether these were thrown in to pad the already-diminished word count or if Ms Divelle is trying to make some kind of bold political statement, but either way they’re just odd and do nothing to either (a) advance the book’s “plot” or (b) diminish the accomplishments of NASA or the Obama administration.
This book brought out so many emotions in me.
Firstly, the mild-revulsion. I can accept that some people have a breast milk fetish/kink, and that’s perfectly OK. It’s not for me, but if you enjoy it then let your freak flag fly high! What disturbs me is that, thanks to Samantha’s drug-induced lactation, it’s everywhere. It’s a miracle that the ship could fly with the weight of all that milk sloshing around. Then there’s the licking of milk and other bodily fluids from every conceivable orifice, by which point even a cup of Earl Grey wasn’t enough to steady the nerves.
Secondly, I felt intellectually insulted. I quite enjoy reading about astronomy and space travel. I’m no expert (the bulk of what I know comes from reading IFL Science, Wikipedia, and following a number of NASA-related Twitter accounts) but even I can tell you that NASA wouldn’t use the word ‘cunt’ in a program name, nor would they be so short-sighted to have both a lesbian AND an engineer on the same flight when, by the stereotypical nature of the characters, these jobs could easily have been dealt with by one person. Also, it’s all fine and well for Samantha to feed the crew with her ample creamy bosoms, but with no other source of food on the ship what the hell is she meant to eat? Tell me that Ms Divelle!
Thirdly, I felt cheated. I payed $5.69 for this rotten little tissue and was promised 25 pages of smut, but the story only starts at 7% and finishes at 65%. The gods above know that I didn’t necessarily want to have to drag this out any longer than necessary, but if I pay for 25 pages of psychological trauma then I expect to get my money’s worth.
Fourthly, I was aggrieved at Doris’ portrayal in this book. You can’t be a lesbian by trade but then hop on as many dicks as possible while never actually full-on sexing the only other female onboard. I am a tolerant man but if there’s one thing I cannot abide it’s lesbians who aren’t committed to their craft.
Finally, I was mildly insulted. The book starts off with the warning “This is not your grandma’s romance novel!“. I’m sorry Ms Divelle but you don’t know my grandma like that. I don’t know how you were raised but when I was growing up we were taught that you don’t just go sauntering onto other people’s Kindles and talk smack about their grandmothers. It’s one thing to write about the complete sexual exploitation of a 19-year-old from Nebraska at the hands of several men and a wishy-washy lesbian, but it is another thing entirely to do so without manners.