Divine Milking System

Chapter 444: 444 | I’d Need a Bigger Plate

The next forty minutes were, without exaggeration, the single most confusing experience of my entire life. And I say that as someone who woke up six weeks ago in a fat stranger’s body with a milk-based survival system and seventy-two hours to live.

Yumi worked like a woman possessed. She moved between her instruments with the focus of a surgeon mid-operation, grabbing tools off the workbench without looking, her fingers finding them by memory. She pressed them against my skin in sequences that made absolutely no sense to me.

The tuning fork went from sternum to left wrist to the soft patch of skin behind my right ear, and each time she struck it against the beveled edge of her workbench first, angling it at what had to be a precise degree because she corrected herself twice before she was satisfied with the contact point.

The note it produced existed somewhere below hearing and above feeling, a frequency that bypassed my eardrums entirely and registered instead as a hum in my back teeth, a tremor in my sinuses.

The vibration traveled through my skeleton like a current following copper wire, spreading from the point of contact outward through my collarbone, down through my ribs, into my pelvis.

And the graft answered. Every single time. It pulsed in patterns I could sense but not control, warm surges of energy that moved through channels I hadn’t known my body contained.

Like someone was playing a piano inside my ribcage and I could hear the melody but had no idea what key it was in, what song was being performed, or why certain notes made my left hand twitch while others sent a dull pressure up behind my eyes.

She struck the fork again, pressed it to the inside of my elbow, and I watched a faint green luminescence travel under my skin from the contact point all the way to my shoulder before it vanished. Yumi saw it too. She made a small, satisfied noise in the back of her throat, the kind a mechanic makes when they finally hear the engine turn over, and scribbled something on her pad without pausing.

"Dimensional substrate integration at ninety-three point four percent," Yumi muttered, scribbling on a pad that already contained more numbers than my entire academic career. "Residual corruption from the Void exposure is degrading the tertiary channels but the primary conduit remains intact. Fascinating. The graft compensated by rerouting through the sexual training multiplier pathway, which explains why your extraction efficiency spiked post-gate. Your body literally rewired itself to feed faster after nearly dying."

"Cool. Can you say that again in a language that exists?"

She ignored me. The crystal plate went against my back, cold enough to make me flinch, and she pressed both palms flat against it from behind. Green light bloomed between her fingers and the plate.

The light passed through me. I watched it exit my chest in fractured beams that painted the opposite wall in colors I’d genuinely never seen before, colors that didn’t have names because human eyes weren’t built to process whatever frequency they occupied.

"The resonance field extends approximately four point seven meters from his center mass in a resting state," Yumi said, apparently to Vale, who had not looked up from his phone. "Under emotional duress that radius probably doubles. Under active Divine Overflow it likely expands to fill whatever enclosed space he occupies. Dominic, are you listening to me?"

"Fully."

"What did I just say?"

"Something about radius. Four meters. Emotional expansion."

"Close enough." She pulled the plate off my back and examined it. The crystal surface now contained what looked like a topographic map rendered in light, with concentric rings radiating outward from a central point. My central point. Me. "The rings correspond to devotion tiers. Each person emotionally bonded to you creates a standing wave in the field. The stronger the bond, the tighter the wave’s frequency coupling with your graft."

She flipped the plate around so I could see it. Seven distinct rings glowed in the crystal, each a different color and brightness, nesting inside each other like the world’s most pornographic target range.

"The innermost ring is your primary bond. Silver-pink, extremely tight coupling, consistent with devotion above ninety percent." Yumi tapped the brightest ring with her fingernail. "That’s Naomi."

I stared at the ring. It pulsed warm and steady, a heartbeat that wasn’t mine but responded to mine. The system tracked devotion as a number. Yumi’s crystal rendered it as a standing wave in dimensional space. Same data, different representation. One felt like a spreadsheet. The other felt like looking at someone’s love compressed into light.

"The amber ring is Belle," Yumi continued, touching the second brightest. "High devotion, strong coupling, slightly wider frequency spread than Naomi’s. That usually indicates a bond with more variance. Passion and anger in equal measure."

"That’s Belle."

"The green one is Aurora. The dark purple is Addison, fresh bond, still settling. The lime is Misato, complicated coupling with a lot of interference patterns I’d need to study further. The pale blue is Hikaru, barely there but structurally significant because it occupies a frequency range none of the others cover."

Six rings. I counted them twice. Then I counted the seventh, which sat at the outermost edge of the field, barely visible, flickering on and off like a signal fighting through static.

"And that one?"

Yumi’s eyes found Vale’s across the workshop. Something passed between them that I couldn’t read.

"That’s Blair Davenport," Yumi said. "Twenty-seven percent devotion. Status: three question marks. The frequency is unstable because she hasn’t decided what she feels about you, and the graft can’t lock onto someone who doesn’t know their own mind. But the coupling potential is remarkable. If that ring ever stabilizes, it would sit closer to center than Addison’s."

"Closer than Addison’s?"

"Blair’s base frequency is S-rank adjacent. Her emotional range is enormous because she’s spent eighteen years compressing it into a space the size of a thimble. If she ever lets go, really lets go, the amount of dimensional energy that bond would generate..." Yumi trailed off and tapped the crystal plate against her thigh, staring at the ceiling. "I’d need to build a bigger plate."

I sat on the table and processed this information the way I process most things that exceed my educational background, which is to say I understood maybe forty percent and decided to fake the rest until someone explained it with smaller words.

"So you’re telling me that my relationships are literally powering a dimensional field around my body, and this field determines how strong a weapon you build me will be."

"That’s a reductive summary that ignores nineteen separate variables but yes, functionally correct."

"And the more people who care about me, the stronger the field gets."

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