Jeremiah 50:31
It was 5:00 am, time for Yoshi to roll out of bed. His room was as sparsely furnished as the rest of his house, characterized by its unblemished white walls, red oak floors and the echoing octagonal cones of its high ceilings. Yoshi gazed up at the ceiling and smiled, bathing his mind in the sublime silence of a particularly calm summer dawn. Just behind his eyes there was the suggestion not just of natural contentment, but specific measured excitement. "Seventeen years" he said silently. It seemed as though even his thoughts could cascade off of the walls in the peaceful quiet of his solitary abode.
In fact, anything above a whisper was a shout in Yoshi's home. He had specifically designed the house with acoustics in mind. Anything whispered at the front of the house would be heard in the back, and the front, and the back again as though it had been spoken over a megaphone. The first to do so, Yoshi had created a system of perfect feedback in his own home, interrupted only by a cracked window in the bathroom between his kitchen and bedroom.
Rising silently from the bed, Yoshi floated into his kitchen on his socks, and noiselessly retrieved the final two empty bottles from one of his newly emptied Milk Rooms, of which he had many. Sailing into his bathroom, Yoshi pressed the button to automatically close the window that separated himself from perfect silence, a process that would take 30 minutes. In the blue light of dawn, the green dinosaur unsealed the sole cabinet in the room and procured the treasure hidden in its felt compartment: an automated mechanical breast pump system nestled in between innumerable stacks of empty prolactin bottles. Sneaking into the tub, Yoshi released a relaxed sigh and applied the pump to his eager breasts.
He took one last look outside and reflected on the serene beauty of a world that he had so woefully sacrificed to pursue private pleasure. What could he have accomplished for good if he had chosen a different path? Turning his eyes back to his ample breasts, he reminded himself that the hour was far too late to ponder the answer to that question. He connected the pump's output tubes to the reinforced plastic bottles beside him and activated the milking apparatus for the final time.
He meditated in the tub, trying to avoid the building sensation of pleasure that had haunted him for the past 17 years. "You can stop now" he muttered repeatedly. "Come on man". He knew if he rose at that moment, he would still have time to re-open the window, and maybe even confess. Interrupting these thoughts was the suffocating, euphoric feeling of surging pressure on his puffy nipples. Re-centered, he tried to remain focused on controling his breathing, which was threatening with every passing moment to transform into the pleasure moans with which he had become all too familiar. With bleary eyes, he glanced over at the window and determined that he had precisely 2 brief minutes before it closed completely.
Lifting his head to the ceiling, Yoshi wet his lips and opened his mouth for a final prayer. "Lord, I… a-a-aahhhh" he released his first long squirt of pure white dinosaur milk into the bottles. "Oohhh, fuck yes" he groaned. Staring down into his cloudy concoction, Yoshi realized that his fate had been sealed since his first time tasting of male lactation's forbidden fruit. With immeasurable grief and mounting pleasure, Yoshi turned to watch the bathroom window close completely, sealing him in a sarcophagus of his own design. To all those who knew him, Yoshi had been a good friend, neighbor, and community leader, but today "Y-Yoshi" he gasped breathlessly, "Yoshi has been a very naughty boy".
His milkers tingled with euphoric pleasure, and erupted in another five second long squirt of sweet baby food. "Ooohhhh, Yoshi's been a veerry naughty boy!" he moaned. Reverberating off of the walls was a painfully load echo of his shrieks, which grew louder as it looped around the house back towards the lizard in heat. The wind finally carried his moans back to his ear holes in a deafening roar, causing him to lactate in long thick pleasure spurts "Ooooawww" he shrieked in the booming maelstrom of intense pain and pleasure.
Whenever the wall of sound reached Yoshi, he released another load of foaming milk into the overfilled bottles, accompanied by a louder wailing admission of his naughtiness. His palace of quiet quickly became a screaming factory of noise, a chamber of cascading sobbing moans. Any observer of his ordeal would realize now the true nature of the place Yoshi had called home. The burning white of the walls imprisoned him, the high ceilings and wide chambers were infinitely more isolating than they were beautiful. In fact no one but Yoshi could have survived in that house for long because Yoshi had designed and committed himself to his own purgatory. He had perpetrated his crime, and now it was time for atonement.
Clutching the stack of the classified reports, police sergeant Ronald McDonald sprinted through the front yard of the Yoshi property. Rushing outwards to meet him was Yoshi's thunderous admission of guilt, which had escaped after growing powerful enough to shatter the plexi glass windows of the house and was now traveling throughout the town to wake the residents. Ronald collapsed. "Maybe if I'd caught him alive…" his thoughts trailed off. He already knew the community would be destroyed by the report's conclusive findings that the extremely popular Yoshiville's Original dairy milk was not from cows at all, and had been poisoned by the cancer causing drugs and hormones Mayor Yoshi had pumped into his body for 17 years. The horrified officer removed his badge and shot himself on the lawn, as the mushroom people woke to the nightmarish moans that signaled their quiet community's violent destruction.