“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 wouldmean that a universe almostexactlylike 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 ahuman witch, which is a sentient creature descended from apes.”
Huh.“And why is this creature calledThe 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 femalehuman?”
“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…favorableas 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 shekeeps 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 whoreallypiss 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.
